After the substantial pressure of a long-fought struggle by Divest McGill and their allies, the McGill Board of Governors finally pledged to divest from direct investments in fossil fuels in December 2023.

Given the well-documented negative social and environmental impacts of the fossil fuel industry, this is undoubtedly a major win for climate and social justice organizers at McGill. But despite the McGill Media Relations Office (MRO) recently confirming to the Daily that the divestment has been “successfully completed,” there is yet more work to be done in reducing McGill’s ties to the fossil fuel industry.

Last October, I had the opportunity to interview Emily Eaton, co-author of a study titled “Fossil fuel industry influence in higher education: A review and a research agenda.” Eaton and her co-authors investigated the numerous ways in which the fossil fuel industry influences the curricula and research outputs of higher education institutions.

“There is a growing movement across many universities, especially led by students, that are looking not just at [fossil fuel] divestment but also at disassociation,” explained Eaton. “[They are] acknowledging that it’s not just that universities are invested in fossil fuel corporations, but also [other] ties that they have […] whether that’s funding a research chair or coming on campus for career days.”

These ties, identified by Eaton and her co-authors, include fossil fuel industry personnel sitting on university boards (or vice versa); fossil fuel companies sponsoring research, academic posts, or scholarships; and hosting career recruitment events for students that encourage them to work in the fossil fuel industry. The Daily has uncovered evidence of many of these ties at McGill.

What is the fossil fuel industry?

The term “fossil fuels” encompasses non-renewable energy sources such as oil, coal, and natural gas. This industry plays a significant role in Canada’s economy, accounting for 7.7 per cent of the country’s GDP and 25 per cent of exports in 2023. At the same time, the oil and gas sector is responsible for 31 per cent of Canada’s greenhouse gas (GHG) emissions. On a global scale, fossil fuels account for over 75 per cent of GHG emissions, therefore making them the largest contributor to climate change overall. According to the International Panel on Climate Change’s 2023 report, global warming as a result of the burning of fossil fuels has led to more frequent and severe extreme weather events, putting people’s lives in danger across the globe. Fossil fuel companies have been aware of the industry’s negative environmental effects since the 1950s and ‘60s, yet have continually sought to obscure this knowledge from the general public in order to avoid government regulation.

The Corporate Mapping Project, which tracks the power dynamics within Canada’s fossil fuel industry, names three categories of actors within the industry. First, there are “emitters,” which are the corporations directly extracting, transporting, and processing fossil fuels. The work of these “emitters” is then supported by “enablers” and “legitimators.” “Enablers,” which include many banks, facilitate fossil fuel production by investing in these companies or creating regulations that are favourable to the industry. Finally, “legitimators” work to persuade the public or political elites on the benefits of fossil fuels – they may argue, for instance, that fossil fuels have a place in a low-carbon future, or that transitioning away from them is simply unfeasible. When looking into McGill’s ties to the fossil fuel industry, it is important to consider not just the affiliated companies themselves, but also the other actors providing them with both material and ideological support.

Fossil Fuel Interests on the McGill Board of Governors

In October, McGill appointed its first-ever Deputy Chancellor, Cynthia Price-Verreault. Price-Verreault had previously served on the Board of Governors for ten years from 2012 to 2022, including as Chair of the Committee to Advise on Matters of Social Responsibility (CAMSR, now CSSR), the committee which advises the Board of Governors on divestment from fossil fuels. She is also a former Petro-Canada employee, having worked as Director of Retail Marketing Services for 18 years, per her LinkedIn. Price-Verreault was the chair of CSSR (then CAMSR) in 2019, when the committee first considered and then decided against divesting from fossil fuels.

Price-Verreault is no longer a member of CSSR, but the current chair, Alan Desnoyers, also has corporate ties to the fossil fuel industry. Desnoyers works at the Royal Bank of Canada (RBC) as the regional vice president of Private Banking for Quebec and Eastern Canada. The Corporate Mapping Project classifies RBC as an “enabler” for being a key financier of the fossil fuel industry. A report by a coalition of environmental groups including the Rainforest Action Network and the Indigenous Environmental Network found that over the year of 2022, RBC was the biggest funder of the fossil fuel industry in the world. That year, the bank spent a total of 42 billion USD on fossil fuel development projects. Desnoyers has also previously worked at BMO and TD, two other banks which both remain huge investors in fossil fuels.

Page 49 of the McGill Board of Governors Handbook lists examples of conflicts of interest, including “when a Member, whether directly or indirectly, has a personal interest in the outcome of deliberations of the Board” and “when a Member is a member of the senior management personnel of a corporation, institution, or body, […] whose interests may be in competition with those of the University.” It could be argued that RBC’s continued interest in supporting the fossil fuel industry is in opposition to the decisions of numerous governing bodies such as the McGill Senate, SSMU, and even the Board itself, who have voted in favour of divestment from fossil fuel companies and acknowledged the socially and environmentally destructive nature of the industry. Given Desnoyers’s position as a senior employee of RBC – a corporation which profits ostensibly from the development of the fossil fuel industry – how likely would he be to vote for measures which could harm the industry’s growth?

When asked if Desnoyers’s position at RBC has ever been considered a conflict of interest, the MRO replied: “All members of the Committee on Sustainability and Social Responsibility (CSSR) commit to following our Board of Governors Code of Ethics and Conduct.” They added that “A conflict-of-interest declaration process takes place on an annual basis in order to ensure compliance.”

This system is reflective of a larger issue, raised by Divest McGill: the undemocratic structure of the Board. Out of the Board’s 25 voting members, 14 are unelected, including Desnoyers. The President and Chancellor, currently Deep Saini and Pierre Boivin, as well as the 12 members-at-large are chosen by the Board with no formal input from the rest of the McGill community, except in the case of the President where community members are invited to attend consultations. The other 11 Board members — representing students, staff (academic, administrative, and support), alumni — and Senators are elected by their respective communities, but comprise a minority of voting members. The average McGill community member therefore has relatively little say in who gets to sit on the Board and make executive decisions for the university at large, including whether or not to divest from industries such as fossil fuels or weapons manufacturing.

Recruitment from Fossil Fuel Industry

Universities are prime reservoirs for fossil fuel companies looking to recruit future employees into the industry. McGill career fairs have often hosted representatives from fossil fuel companies, particularly within the engineering department. The semesterly TechFair, organized by the Engineering Career Centre and volunteers from the engineering and computer science departments, has become a target for protests on account of the companies it chooses to host. In October 2023, Science for the People Canada created a zine highlighting the harmful actions of companies participating in TechFair, specifically those involved in the military and defense, mining, and oil and gas sectors. The zine argues that recruiters use the tech fair to greenwash their companies’ unethical practices in order to recruit new employees. Science for the People aims to “provide the other side of the story.”

In recent years, TechFair has continued to host companies directly involved in oil and gas extraction. Some of the companies hosted include Suncor, Teck Resources (also known as Elk Valley Resources), and Canadian Natural Resources Limited, which all directly participate in the extraction of fossil fuels. However, in addition to these direct “emitters,” Science for the People also flags “enabler” companies that collaborate with fossil fuel companies and help facilitate these operations by building relevant infrastructure or working to open up new land for exploitation. Examples of these companies include Preston Phipps, Klohn Crippen Berger, Enero Solutions, Alberici, and CIMA+.

In the winter 2025 edition of TechFair, a list of potential companies leaked to the Daily included Glencore, the world’s largest private-sector coal company, which produced 1.1 per cent of the world’s emissions in 2023. The company has also been accused of human rights abuses, environmental damage, and pollution in areas where it operates, such as Colombia and northern Quebec, according to a 2024 report by Mining Watch. Glencore is no stranger to TechFair, having been present at the past three semesterly events. Their inclusion, in addition to that of other oil and gas contractors such as Preston Phipps, shows that careers in the fossil fuel or similar extractive industries are still being heavily promoted at McGill.

Besides TechFair, the Desautels-run Jaclyn Fisher Career Day commonly features banks which invest heavily in the fossil fuel industry. In their September 2024 event, representatives came recruiting from TD, CIBC, and BNP Paribas. According to the Banking on Climate Chaos 2024 report, TD and BNP Paribas respectively provided 178.44 and 186.79 billion USD in fossil fuel financing between 2016 and 2023 (although the latter claims to have stopped financing new oil and gas fields in 2023).

The MRO explained that recruiters at McGill career fairs vary each year, mainly reflecting “market trends” and positions open to university graduates. They told the Daily that “McGill is willing to consider the participation of all lawful companies,” stressing that it is up to the students and not the university to determine which companies they are interested in. They added that if students have concerns about specific participants, they can share them with careers.caps@mcgill.ca.

Research funding and donations

Many Canadian universities, such as the University of Toronto, the University of Alberta, and the University of Calgary, have already been scrutinized for holding research partnerships with the fossil fuel industry. In a 2018 study on corporate influence in Canadian universities, University of Victoria researchers William Carroll and Garry Gray explained that “there is a long history of corporations directly funding research in order to cast doubt on independent scientific findings considered averse to industry interests,” citing the tobacco, pharmaceutical, and asbestos industries as examples. However, Eaton and her colleagues believe that there still remains a “gaping hole” in public knowledge about the fossil fuel industry’s influence on academic research.

The Web of Science database offers searching for academic publications based on the affiliations of the authors and the agencies which fund their research. Using this tool, the Daily was able to search for publications both authored by McGill researchers and funded by fossil fuel companies. The non-exhaustive results included companies which were either listed as “emitters” in the CMP’s Top 50 Fossil-Power index or as members of the Canadian Association of Petroleum Producers (CAPP). Out of the 34 total companies included in the list, 14 had funded McGill-affiliated publications (available on Web of Science). The company Shell funded the most publications at 92, followed by Teck Resources at 61 and Imperial Oil at 27. In 2024 alone, McGill scholars published papers funded by Shell Canada, Teck Resources, and Imperial Oil.

A large number of these publications came from the Faculty of Engineering, specifically the Department of Mining and Materials Engineering. The faculty has a history of collaborating with fossil fuel companies – a 2019 Tribune article found that Shell and Imperial Oil had donated $702,775 toward research grants primarily for McGill Engineering students between 2008 and 2015. Both companies routinely collaborate with universities to fund research through schemes such as the Shell Research Alliance and the Imperial Oil University Research Award, which was won by a McGill professor in 2018. In addition to those from Engineering, members of the Faculty of Agriculture and Environment have also been involved in recent collaborations with Shell USA through the EcoToxChip project.

As reported in a Tribune article, McGill accepted a total of $1,137,954.10 in donations from several fossil fuel companies including Cenovus Energy, Suncor Energy, and Gaz Metro between 2008 and 2015. The Investigative Journalism Foundation’s charitable donations database shows that McGill received an additional $1150 from the Suncor Energy Foundation in 2016. Beginning in 2007, the Imperial Oil Foundation also donated $800,000 over a period of five years to the Faculties of Science and Education’s WOW Lab.

McGill’s Gift Acceptance Policy outlines several restrictions to accepting financial donations, including limiting those that “may come from illegal or unethical activities “violating university or government policies on equity and human rights, or gifts with conditions attached that the university deems unreasonable. When asked how the policy is applied toward fossil fuel donors, the MRO gave the reply that it “allows [McGill] to consider donors and gifts on a case-by-case basis.”

Moving forward

Most climate scientists today agree that fossil fuel extraction poses a significant threat to humanity and the planet. They warn that only by phasing out these industries will we stand a chance of preventing further destruction to the environment. While divesting from fossil fuel companies made for a powerful symbolic gesture, McGill’s investment portfolio was just one of the ways the university is connected to the fossil fuel industry. Although the connections identified in this article are by no means exhaustive, they offer insight into McGill’s continued relationship with the fossil fuel industry. Divestment is a start, but McGill has a long way to go before truly cutting ties with fossil fuels.

The post Divestment From Fossil Fuels Is Just The Beginning appeared first on The McGill Daily.

As the National Day of Truth and Reconciliation approaches, and with McGill hosting its annual Indigenous Awareness weeks, The Daily decided to focus on the precarious housing situation for Indigenous residents in Montreal. We looked at the shortcomings of institutional and government measures, systematic discrimination, and the work of several organizations providing services to Indigenous homeless populations.

Delving into the failures of institutional and governmental responses, reinforces the understanding that colonial legacies and ongoing systematic discrimination  continue to increase the risk of homelessness for Indigenous peoples. There are very limited services dedicated specifically to Indigenous peoples experiencing homelessness. The Daily had the chance to interview Na’kuset, the executive director of Native Women Shelter, and David Chapman, the executive director of Resilience Montreal, two Montreal-based organizations leading numerous initiatives and projects to help indigenous communities.  

Assessing the Indigenous Homelessness crisis in Montreal

Montreal’s homeless population, totaling 4,690, is the largest in Quebec. Indigenous people are overrepresented in this number. While only making up 0.6 per cent of the city’s population, Indigenous peoples represent approximately 12 per cent of Montreal’s visible unhoused population. Indigenous people experiencing homelessness in Montreal also tend to be underserved by shelter and transitional housing systems and experience more long-term and cyclical homelessness.

The issue goes well beyond numbers. In their April 2024 report Eyes Wide Open, the Montreal Indigenous Community NETWORK defines Indigenous homelessness as “the historic and ongoing displacement, geographic separation, mental disruption, imbalance, cultural genocide and spiritual disconnection experienced by First Nations, Inuit, and Métis individuals, families, and communities,” in addition to “[their] state of lacking permanent, stable, and/or basic living conditions.” While aspects of this specific form of homelessness overlap with traditional material precarity, it is inextricably linked to the legacy of historically constructed and ongoing settler colonialism and racism. For generations, these systemic forces have displaced and dispossessed First Nations, Métis and Inuit people from their traditional governance systems and laws, territories, histories, worldviews, and ancestors. 

Roots of Indigenous Homelessness 

Today’s exclusion of Indigenous people from housing has its roots in systemic and institutional marginalization and discrimination, trickling down from Canada’s colonial history and government policy failures. The enduring impact of colonial policies, such as the Indian Act and the 1975 James Bay and Northern Quebec Agreement, has disrupted Indigenous communities, displacing them from their traditional lands and undermining their cultural and governance structures. The legacy of residential schools play a significant role in perpetuating homelessness among Indigenous peoples. Intergenerational trauma has disrupted family structures and community cohesion, contributing to the instability and vulnerability that often leads to homelessness. Other causes include failures of social systems, including thorough overrepresentation in the criminal justice and prison systems and child welfare programs. Together with other failures–such as economic barriers, bad living conditions (approximately 75 per cent of reserves have contaminated water), insufficient educational structures, these factors push Indigenous people to move to urban centers such as Montreal. However, the high influx of people faced with inaccessible housing and a limited supply of appropriate services leads to the augmentation of homelessness. 

Addressing the factors leading to Indigenous people experiencing homelessness requires long-term systemic change, including repairing the historical and ongoing impacts of colonization, providing culturally appropriate support services and preventative initiatives, and creating opportunities for Indigenous communities to thrive culturally, socially, and economically. Though much of the burden falls on the government, this is first and foremost a human and community responsibility. 
When discussing the causes of Indigeous homelessness, David Chapman, the executive director of Resilience Montreal, told the Daily that “the 100 years of cultural genocide through residential schools where Indigenous people lost their language and culture very intentionally [was clearly] a policy of the Canadian government.” He notes that “as people suffer the implications of this loss, it makes them more susceptible to things like addiction, for example, social problems, family breakdowns and violence. So, of course, there’s a reason why there’s such a high concentration of Indigenous peoples on the streets of Montral.” Chapman concludes that “part of the challenge is educating people on the history of genocide in Canada and when they are a little bit educated, it does help when you’re trying to implement new resources.” 

What initiatives have been developed to tackle this critical issue?

In 2020, the city of Montreal launched its 2020-2025 strategy for reconciliation with the Indigenous peoples. Among the objectives stated are “Support the urban Indigenous community”, “Improve the feeling of safety of Indigenous people in Montreal”, and “Support the economic development of Indigenous peoples in Montreal”. With 2025 just a few months away, are we anywhere near reaching those objectives? 

Continued institutional abuses, compounded by the Government’s inability to help improve the living conditions of Indigenous communities in urban settings such as Montreal, forced local initiatives to step up to the challenge. Created in 1987, the Native Women’s Shelter of Montreal (NWSM) is the only shelter in the city to provide support for First Nation, Inuit and Metis women and their children. The NWSM provides a safe space for Indigenous women and their children to heal and build better futures. Through support services and programs tailored to specific needs, they aim to accompany these women towards independence and foster empowerment.  The Daily spoke with Na’kuset, the executive director of NWSM since 2004. She notes that the shelter has “programming specifically for Indigenous women who come to spend time with us. Each person who comes in is assigned a support worker, and each week we are updating to see how the progress is helping them in everything that they need. And then we have the outside project, like the Cabot Square. So we go over and above to help the Indigenous population, but the demand is high of course.” 

With the increasing demand in recent years, existing resources have not been able to provide sufficient support to everyone. This has also caused people to find shelter in unsafe places. Homeless Indigenous women are particularly affected, facing gender-based violence in addition to a lack of material support. “There needs to be more spaces like the Native Women’s Shelter because we are exclusively the only Indigenous shelter that serves Indigenous women and their children. No one else does that,” Na’kuset told the Daily. 

She then added that “every woman who comes in has different issues. It’s not like just painting everyone with the same brush, right? We accept them when they come in, and then we find the appropriate resources for them. We support them with what they need, and we accompany them because there are issues with all the institutions, whether it be education, whether it be hospitals, whether it be welfare, whether it be finding housing. There’s always challenges. We actually get used to it. But when we support the women, we go with them because they shouldn’t have to deal with it for themselves. And when you have a staff that accompanies them, then that door gets jammed open, which is what we want.” 

Last June, Resilience Montreal held a memorial to honour the lives of over 30 homeless people who have died since 2021. Chapman observed that “when you look at the photos, about half of the people who’ve died–who’ve used our services in the last few years – have been young Indigenous women.”
First founded in 2019 by the Native Women’s Shelter, Resilience Montreal has established itself as an independent day shelter. The organization provides basic need services, including three meals a day, showers, and hygiene, as well as Intervention Services such as Indigenous-centered wellness services, government documentation assistance, and a housing program. 

 Challenges to carrying out efficient services

“What’s interesting to me is that people love the idea of accessible services to unhoused populations. In theory, this is a very popular idea that people will support. The problem lies in trying to implement these accessible services. And the problem is no one wants a homeless resource in their neighborhood.It’s worse than that, when you try to implement a homeless resource, sometimes not only will neighbors try to block you but some may even try to sue you. In fact and in fact right now there’s a class action lawsuit in the Plateau,” explained Chapman to the Daily. 

Class action suits have been brought by neighbours and nearby business owners against Hotel Dieu hospital on St-Urbain Street (serving as a shelter since 2021) and the Open Door Montreal shelter on Park Avenue. “They’re suing for 25.000$ per citizen for diminished quality of life,” added Chapman. Resilience Montreal has faced similar issues in the past years. 
Cohabitation is one of the biggest challenges faced by organizations helping homeless people. Class actions such as this one are also a reminder that difficulties don’t solely come from the government, but also fellow citizens. 

Chapman elaborated on this, saying that “everyone’s demanding their rights. One of the challenges is to have a bigger conversation in human society about, what does collective human flourishing look like, you know? Instead of these human rights standoffs, which is what we’re looking at right now, and it’s growing in Montreal.” He then added that efforts went beyond pointing fingers at the government. 

“What’s hard to come to terms with is that we talk about the precarity of services for Indigenous women, for Indigenous peoples in general, in the city of Montreal. Yet in trying to move forward and implement these services you’re always given many obstacles and frequently you just can’t succeed,” said Chapman before adding that “I’ve had this conversation with people where I’ve explained that by blocking homeless resources from your neighborhood, you’re just going to have more unnecessary deaths of unhoused persons. Unfortunately it’s a sad reality but your average citizen doesn’t care, and governments don’t care because your average citizen doesn’t care.” 

On September 30, the National Day of Truth and Reconciliation, citizens of Montreal must ask themselves, what sacrifice should we be able to make for healing and efficient solutions to occur? 
Discussing the ninth anniversary of the release of the Truth and Reconciliation Commission, Na’kuset told the Daily that “the TRCs were created for institutions, and for institutions to apply, which they don’t, and nobody’s forcing them to. So although it may be a government thing, I would say it’s across the board for people to choose not to apply them. […]  There’s many different ways that social services or youth protection could amend their ways, but they don’t do it. So everyone is ignoring these recommendations that they’re supposed to implement, and the government, again, is not doing anything to enforce it. So it’s pretty distressing that we continue to be ignored.” 

Emerging new initiatives and hope for healing process to take place 

Although both Na’kuset and David Chapman highlighted the dire circumstances faced by Indigenous peoples and the limitations of the organizations trying to assist them, they also spoke about emerging initiatives that offer signs of hope. Na’kuset mentioned the new two stage housing program launched by the Native Women’s Shelter, Miyoskamin. 

New initiatives include the Mitshuap near Cabot Square, which has recently opened its doors for homeless people to find refuge. It is the first urban shelter created and run by Indigenous people. Chapman explained how it was an initiative by the Innu Nation in response to the tragic death of Raphaël André, an Innu man who froze to death in an outdoor public toilet in January 2021. At the time, homeless people had to hide during the night because if they were found by the police, they would receive a $1,000 fine. 

“This example is a representation of Indigenous leadership resurgence, where in the past Indigenous leaders living on reserves would not involve themselves in the processes of larger cities. But there’s been an Indigenous resurgence in Quebec and other parts of Canada as well, and we’re seeing a new pattern of Indigenous leaders taking more initiative to make sure that their community members are well treated in urban centers and I think this is a good sign. I think we’re going to see more and more Indigenous-led initiatives in urban centers and this will be part of the healing process,” expressed Chapman as a sign of hope. 

Efforts and work towards healing and restoring dignity to Indigenous peoples is going to take a long time; even if the city were to approve the building of new centres, they would take years to build. But efforts are there, and people need to continue contributing to organizations such as Resilience Montreal and the Native Women’s Shelter. 

“There’s a reason why we call Resilience Montreal, Resilience Montreal, and it’s because obviously we’re recognizing the strength of the people we’re working with and we’re recognizing their resilience,” concluded Chapman. 

Getting more involved as students and residents of Montreal 

The issue of Indigenous homelessness should be of the utmost priority in government policy-making. It should also be part of the citizen’s responsibility to work towards healing and restoring dignity to the Indigenous peoples. “Volunteering is a great way to set  an example of how societies can look at solving the challenges we face collectively. With people who are afraid of a new homeless community, or project in their neighborhood, if they would just come in and actually volunteer in a homeless resource for a few days somewhere, they would find that many of their fears are reduced,” said Chapman. Resilience Montreal has daily volunteering shifts, where the main tasks include either assisting in the kitchen, service or working in the clothes distribution section of the shelter. 

“Students should try to do fundraising initiatives for the Native Women’s Shelter, they should show up when we have vigils, they should show up when we have marches, said Na’kuset. “They should find a way of trying to challenge the institutions that are not applying the recommendations for the TRC, asking them why they’re not doing it. Who does it serve when you don’t apply them?” 
The NWSM is organizing the Every Child Matters: A Day of Action for Truth and Reconciliation March in partnership with Pop Montreal and the David Suzuki Foundation. The rally will start at 1 p.m. in Parc Mont Royal.  

Indigenous housing precarity has been ignored for too long. It is necessary to move beyond a competition of rights and privileges that sets a dynamic of us versus them. We must strengthen bonds between individuals and communities and tackle this issue as a collective community, because it is a matter of common good. 

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Prior to the interview, I held the belief that McGill didn’t care so much for the visual arts. While there was room for this critique, I left it outside the door when I walked into Gwendolyn’s office for the interview. My first interaction with her was one day prior when she gave a talk in my class which introduced the Visual Arts Collection and the opportunities that they had for undergraduate students. I was enamored with her passion and sought to know more about the collection. Before her talk, I never knew that McGill had a Visual Arts Collection; nor that it was so expansive, including more than 3,500 works of art. Something that happens to most students in their first year also happened to me. I was so inundated with information about McGill when first arriving that once I was able to fall into a routine here, I never took the time to do any more searching about opportunities or organizations that this institution might have. So I was completely unaware of most things occurring at McGill that pertained to the fine arts.  

This idea, that McGill didn’t promote the visual arts, is the very first thing that Gwendolyn and I discussed. 

Interview has been edited for clarity.

GO: One of the interesting things is there are a lot of arts activities going on, but how you figure out about them is one of the challenges. There’s an art show right now at the Redpath Museum. But how would you know? Also, during the pandemic, we started something called De-Stress and Sketch. So every week, we put out on our Instagram (@mcgill_vac) something from the collection and tell people to sketch it. We found that they were enjoying it a lot, and then they started sending us their pictures. So the next week, we would post their pictures and send them a different work to sketch. We ended up with a thousand followers on Instagram. So all this to say there’s stuff happening, but we’re not great as a community about letting everybody know about things.

Evelyn Logan for The McGill Daily (MD): Well, that was what I had hoped, because last year was my first year here and coming into McGill, I had so much being thrown at me, but I wasn’t receiving the information about the arts. It led me to believe that maybe there wasn’t that much programming, or that there wasn’t a community of students, or that the school wasn’t trying to cultivate that at McGill. I think it’s much better now knowing that it’s out there, but people just don’t know. 

GO: Do you know that an artist is doing a performance all day outside tomorrow?

MD: No, I haven’t heard.

GO: See? So this year’s Indigenous Artist in Residence [Soleil Launière] is doing a performance on the East field [September 12]. 

Last fall, for three convocations in a row, the person getting an honorary degree was an artist, a visual artist. François Solven got it for [Winter] 2023, and then in the fall, someone named Robert Fuhl, who’s an amazing Indigenous artist, got it. Last spring, Edward Bertinski, who’s a photographer, got it. So that’s a thing that’s happening. I can take some credit for François Solven. The other two, I have nothing to do with.

Those kinds of things are all happening, almost under the radar. From my perspective, we need to figure out a way that people can know about these things. 

MD: Circling back to the McGill community, I read on the website that you’ve been here for 10 years. Can you talk about your experience, what it was like when you first joined, and what it’s like now?

GO: What’s interesting with this collection is that it was run by a committee before it was run by me and my professional team, and they were doing their best, but they were a committee. I’ve done research about university collections, and they get organized and become official collections when there is a crisis or an opportunity. So we’re not unique. We can’t wag our finger at McGill. This is the progress that happens with a university collection, as opposed to an art museum, which is often started by artists, and then becomes a place where people donate their art. The business of McGill is education, first and foremost. So the emphasis is rightly on that.

MD: Yeah, that’s very interesting. I feel like when I’m considering the history of McGill, and I don’t even necessarily think of the arts. I’m thinking more about the sciences and math.

GO: I think that’s fair in that the art collection was a sideline. The fun thing I found out was, in 1948, they decided that they were going to have a Bachelor of Fine Arts program. And it went on for a couple of years. Their target audience were veterans coming back from World War II. That’s not who they got as students. They got women. 

Then, there was a change of dean. I think we didn’t really understand what a fine arts program was about, so it ended up morphing into the Art History Department, which used to teach more studio art, but now doesn’t. Also to say, what happened here is not unique either. I’ve seen it in other places. 

MD: I was never considering visual arts programming at McGill. What’s the balance between the studio class and the rest of my curriculum? And I was critiquing the fact that McGill doesn’t have studio classes more widely available, but not necessarily thinking of who the class’s audience could be.

GO: Exactly. What’s the role of a studio class if you are not going to be an artist? I mean, that’s one of those questions. The structure for what you need [compared to] the role [for] artists is a little different, which was part of what happened in the ’50s. When the dean changed, the next dean didn’t know how to find artists to teach. It’s one of these things where I kept looking for a really bad guy in the story of what happened to this program, and I couldn’t really find it. It was just that people didn’t really understand.

MD: I feel like that’s a very common theme when it comes to art and how it is considered by larger society. 

GO: Yeah. I do pottery now at the Visual Arts Center in Westmount, just for fun. There are students in some of the classes who do things there because it’s an art school. I’ve been talking to people and finding out that actually they’re studying something at McGill, and this is what they’re doing with their spare time. I didn’t notice that they’re McGill students, and they did four classes in a row.

*** 

MD: Which accomplishment are you most proud of?

GO: My staff get tired of hearing me say this, I’ve looked at this as the glass that’s half full, and we’re filling it. So, okay, 20 years ago, they were having trouble keeping track of things, and the list we had wasn’t up to date. Our list is up to date now. Awesome. We’re filling that glass. We’re keeping track of things. We’re doing programming. And I’m really proud of the internship program.

At this point, Gwendolyn’s second in command, Michelle Macleod, the Assistant Curator of the Visual Arts Collection, entered her office and showed me a “Gwendolyn original,” a small piece of pottery beautifully glazed in the abstract style. 

MD: What do you see for the future of the visual arts collection?

GO: The library is going to be renovated. There’s going to be Fiat Lux, and I want to make sure that we have great opportunities to show the collection. There’s lots of talking that I’m doing to people about what we need to do to make that happen. In an art museum, everything is in climate-controlled space and all of that. We show art in all kinds of spaces [at McGill]. It’s a risk, but it’s a risk that I think we want to take.

One of the things that we’ve worked very hard to do is make this collection reflective of our community. Basically, it began as Canadian portraits, Canadian landscapes. And now it’s got lots of different works. That’s Maori, [Owens points to the work on her wall], it’s about to be in an exhibition in the [McLennan] lobby here. So come back next week in the lobby, and you will see an exhibition that Michelle [Macleod] has curated.

[The goal] is to get all the art out of storage. 

Follow the Visual Arts Collection on Instagram at @mcgill_vac.

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Contrary to what some might believe, TikTok is about more than viral dance videos. The video-centric social media platform empowers individuals to create and share a wide array of content, from memes to updates on world events. Many people have harnessed TikTok’s potential as a stage for advocacy and activism, as creators are able to draw attention to pressing social issues locally and globally.

One community that is reclaiming time and asserting their voice on this app is the disabled community. This large, diverse group has leveraged TikTok to spread accessibility awareness and challenge ableism. Each creator brings a unique perspective to this discourse. Take, for instance, Tyler Lima-Roope (@Tylerlimaroope), whose witty, tongue-in-cheek videos humorously recount personal experiences of ableism, or thoroughly analyze whether characters on Scooby-Doo or the Office would be “ableist or ally.” For others like Imani Barbarin (@crutchesandspice), TikTok is a platform for delivering incisive societal critiques on the intersecting issues of disability, race, class, and more.

Another notable advocate is Taylor Lindsay-Noel (@accessbytay), a 31-year-old woman living in Toronto. A former competitive gymnast, Taylor experienced a spinal cord injury during sport at age 14 which left her paralyzed from the chest down. Post-high school, she pursued studies in Radio and Television Arts at Toronto Metropolitan University, and eventually established the podcast Tea Time with Tay. This podcast explored a variety of topics with special guest athletes, actresses, advocates, and more. Today, Taylor is the busy owner and CEO of a luxury tea brand and cafe, Cup of Té, a motivational public speaker, and a content creator and advocate on social media. Viewers of Taylor’s content are drawn in by her candid and joyful approach to life and advocacy.

As a student studying inclusion, I was eager to speak to Taylor to hear her thoughts on TikTok as a space for disability advocacy and community building. I reached out to her to inquire as to whether she would be open to speaking on the subject and she was kind enough to agree to a meeting via Zoom. In that call, which took place in November, we discussed TikTok, accessibility, advocacy, and more.

To begin our conversation, I asked Taylor about what had inspired her to start creating content on TikTok. Her response harkened back to the COVID-19 lockdowns when she and her friends would daydream of going back out into the city to visit their favourite local haunt. “We kept talking about this one place we would always go to. We went there every single time we met up. And the question of ‘why are we always going to the same place?’ was asked…” she explained. “And the answer was that we knew it was accessible and that we knew it would be easy for me. We started talking about how that shouldn’t be the case. There should be way more options.”

This realization sparked a conversation about the lack of reliable information on accessible alternatives, leading to a crucial turning point for Taylor. It was in this vacuum that Taylor’s restaurant accessibility reviews were born. As she put it, the aim of her early videos was to “start documenting our experiences – the good and the bad – so that people can have a visual idea of how inaccessible places have a real-life effect on people with disabilities or accessibility needs.” For her reviews, Taylor and company travelled to local restaurants to review the food, drinks, ambience, and most importantly, the accessibility of the venue. Her commentary would hone in on details like automatic doors and the layout of washroom spaces – important features to consider for those with extended mobility needs.

In one of her most widely viewed restaurant review videos, Taylor visits the Shameful Tiki Room in downtown Toronto and soon discovers that she had been misled by the accessibility information provided by the restaurant on the web and by phone. While the establishment claimed to be wheelchair accessible via Yelp and confirmed this to Taylor over the phone, her visit revealed the opposite to be true. The venue did not have an automatic door, and there was virtually no room between tables to maneuver her wheelchair. She also discovered that there was a step leading to the washroom area and that there were no wheelchair-accessible stalls. After Taylor’s review went up, showcasing the restaurant’s poor accessibility standards and noting their hypocrisy in declaring the establishment “wheelchair accessible,” viewer support came pouring in. The Shameful Tiki Room is now no longer listed as wheelchair accessible.

Reflecting on her restaurant reviews, Taylor told me she had originally imagined that these videos would only be of interest to other members of her local disabled community. However, she soon discovered that there were many types of people watching her videos for information on accessibility. Parents with strollers, elderly folk, and caretakers were also benefiting from her insights. Moreover, she was surprised and amused to discover that her viewers were also interested in watching her videos as food blogs. This struck her as ironic because “I’m not much of a foodie… I was always a chicken-fingers-and-fries girl. So my friends and I find it so funny that people say now that I’m the restaurant girl.”

Given the support she had received from her broad audience base, Taylor felt motivated to continue to grow and evolve her content. In principle, she aims to “change the narrative about what a disabled person’s day-to-day looks like.” In reviewing comments left on her videos, Taylor has had the chance to see the impact that her mission has had on others. For instance, she shared “I talked about a fork that I use, and I see “Oh my god, I’ve been looking for something like this for my grandpa. Thank you so much for this resource.” So, knowing that people can look to me as a resource… I love that. That’s really cool.” Being able to help others on their personal journeys with accessibility has brought her a sense of meaning and fulfillment.

On her mission to show what an accessible life can look like, Taylor welcomes viewers into both her personal and professional worlds. In her series, Day in the Life of a Paralyzed CEO, Taylor shares her entrepreneurial endeavours. In one such video, Taylor takes viewers through her day from her morning routine where she is assisted by nurses, to a brief stop at a studio where she is filming a special project, to finally ending her workday at her own café to meet with her team of staff. In a different video series, Dating Disabled, Taylor speaks to deconstruct myths surrounding disability, dating, and sex by drawing on her own experiences.

“I think there’s just a lot of misconceptions when it comes to people with disabilities and their dating life, and I just want to change that perception. I’m just like everybody else with the same wants and needs, [and] a lot of the same capabilities,” she said, expanding on why this project in particular was so important to her. In these videos, Taylor often adopts a fun, gossiping tone to answer viewer questions on more intimate topics. She shared that she is comfortable and enjoys having these conversations on camera.

However, in as much as Taylor seeks to dispel misconceptions of what it is like to live with a disability, she emphasized that her experiences should not be generalized to all disabled people. “I don’t want people to think that what I do, or my experiences, or my outgoingness, are exactly the norm. So, I don’t want people to expect that from everyone. But more so leave my page with a broader perspective of what is capable for somebody like [me],” she said.

In considering the sheer magnitude and variety of projects Taylor has on the go, it’s no surprise that she feels overwhelmed at times. She had not anticipated that her TikTok page would grow to such an extent that she now works with professional management to run campaigns and offer consulting on accessibility. This overwhelming success has led Taylor to reconsider her future goals.

“It’s made me reexamine where I want to go, what my goals are for the future as an entrepreneur, and if it’s time for me to pivot and just focus on social [media] and just be an advocate. So, I’ve had a lot of self-development and reflection over the last year and a half,” she explained.

As she looks forward and imagines a future more dedicated to her social media platform and advocacy, Taylor considers a range of projects and possibilities. She would like to take her accessible restaurant reviews international, and in doing so simultaneously tackle the notoriously inaccessible travel industry. For Taylor, her advocacy goals take on the utmost importance. Even as she considered the possibility of someday having a family, she mentioned that she looks forward to tying it into her advocacy work, as “it would be a really powerful thing to talk about parenthood as a disabled mom.”

As Taylor looks forward, she is propelled by the desire to make her province, the country, and the world “a more accessible and understanding place.” She identifies TikTok’s role in providing her with a platform to foster advocacy, challenge societal norms, and transform our world. On TikTok, she has carved out a space to share crucial accessibility information with the public, engage in candid discussions around disability, and expand and evolve her various businesses.

“I’ve always been looking for the why after my accident. Like, why did this happen to me? And I feel like I’m stepping into my why. I was put in this position so I can have a platform in order to make changes for the communities I represent. I feel lucky to do that and a lot of that is because of TikTok,” she explained.

In navigating the digital landscape with authenticity and purpose, Taylor continues to derive joy and meaning from her work as she leads the way to a more accessible and inclusive future. As her platform grows, Taylor remains committed to using her voice to advance positive change for the disabled community in Toronto and beyond.

The post “I’m Stepping Into My Why” appeared first on The McGill Daily.

Certain quotes have been edited for brevity and clarity

March 7, 2024 marks five months of the war in Gaza. At the time of writing, the death toll in Gaza has surpassed 30,000 people, including more than 12,300 children, 1,139 people in Israel, and 411 people in the occupied West Bank. Meanwhile, an estimated 1,200 journalists in Gaza continue to be targeted and face precarious conditions as they relay information about the daily events and conditions on the ground. On February 28, the Committee to Protect Journalists (CPJ) released a preliminary investigation of journalist deaths in the violence since October 7. The account showed that at least 88 journalists and media workers were among the more than 30,000 killed since the war began on October 7, making Gaza the world’s deadliest place for journalists.

On February 20, the Critical Media Lab hosted the hybrid panel “Journalism under siege” in collaboration with McGill, the Research Group on Democracy, Space, and Technology, and Tufts University. The panel is part of the “On Gaza’’ speaker series, and panel members included Sherif Mansour, the CPJ Middle East and North Africa Program Coordinator; Nidal Rafa, a Palestinian journalist and producer; Ghoussoun Bisharat, the editor-in-chief of +972 magazine; and Palestinian journalist and human rights activist Mahmoud Mustafa, reporting from north Gaza. Previous events included discussions on health care and infrastructural ruination.

Dr. Diana Allan, associate professor in Anthropology at the Institute for the Study of International Development at McGill and co-founder of the Critical Media Lab, introduced the event as a discussion on the “war on Palestinian journalism.” Professor Amahl Bishara, the moderator of the panel and associate professor at Tufts University, added that “we all, and not just those concerned with Palestinian and Israeli people and places, but all those concerned with the fate and processes of human rights, decolonization and striving for justice, all rely on the work and words of the Palestinian journalists who are on the ground doing this work every day.”

The Daily spoke with Dr. Allan about her work as an anthropologist, archivist, and ethnographic filmmaker with Palestinian refugees living in the camps in Lebanon. She explained that the “On Gaza” series emerged from conversations with two of her graduate students about “the urgent need for a space on campus in which to discuss what is happening in Gaza.”

She further added that “as is often noted, we have been watching a genocide unfold in real-time — literally, the obliteration of a world and a people, which is unprecedented and horrifying in ways that are hard to describe or bear. And yet, outside of the student mobilizations on campus — which have been so amazing and inspiring — there has been almost no public discussion of these world-transforming events at McGill.”

“In convening these talks the aim has been to open a space for critical discussion about the material conditions of life and death in Gaza today, and the broader implications of Israel’s genocidal war on besieged Palestinians. Beyond simply sharing information, my hope is that these talks can also help to build solidarity and community, which is why they have been in- person,” she told the Daily.

Panelist Sherif Mansour expressed his concerns regarding the unprecedented killings of journalists in Gaza and their consequences. He emphasized that the alarming situation stems from a pattern of violence and killings that goes beyond the beginning of the war in October. Referring to the CJP’s 2023 report “Deadly Pattern,” he explained that there is a “precarious, dangerous and deadly environment, specifically for Palestinian journalists covering Israeli army operations.”

Killings of Palestinian journalists are not isolated occurrences. Since 2001, CPJ has documented at least 20 journalist killings by the Israeli Defence Forces (IDF).

“What we see is that this deadly pattern continues unchecked because we haven’t seen accountability,” asserted Mansour. He explained that the Israeli army only committed to doing an investigation if the journalist killed had a foreign passport or worked for an international media outlet. Even then, “it doesn’t lead to anything: no one is charged, no one is held accountable.”

Such was the case with the Palestinian-American television journalist Shireen Abu Akleh, killed by the IDF on May 11, 2022. The IDF investigation determined there was a “high possibility” that one of their soldiers “accidentally” shot the journalist while engaging Palestinian gunmen. This announcement came five months after her death. To this day, no accountability has been reached.

Mansour warned that since 90 per cent of the journalists killed in this war were Palestinians, this systematic targeting would compromise the ability of Palestinian journalists to cover IDF activities. “The deadly pattern has not just continued, but has turned what was a chilling effect before this war into a news blackout and forced on the media especially Palestinian journalists that were said to bear the brunt of Israeli fire and bear witness of all journalists worldwide about what is happening in Gaza.”

In late October, Israel’s military told Reuters and Agence France Presse that they are unable to guarantee the safety of journalists operating in the Gaza Strip, due to the ongoing Israeli bombardment.

Journalists in Gaza face immense challenges in carrying out their work. The Israeli army has destroyed around 50 local and international media outlets in Gaza since October 7, as reported by the Palestinian Journalists Syndicate (PJS), in addition to the devastating loss of life. In addition to the killings, reports have also emerged of different forms of violent “incidents” with the aim of reinforcing the “news blackout.” This comprises 25 arrests, various cases of assaults, threats, cyberattacks, and censorship. According to CPJ’s data as of February 27, 19 journalists were reported to be in Israeli custody.

Bisharat asked Mansour about the “horrific arrests of journalists,” which have been “somewhat neglected in this scheme of things.” He explained that every year, CPJ produces a report on journalists who have been incarcerated.

“For the first time, Israel was one of our top war jailers of journalists,” he said. Throughout the war, they have documented 25 arrests with a majority in the West Bank. All were Palestinian journalists put in military trials under administrative detention. “Under those tribunals [journalists] can be held indefinitely [without a trial] for the suspicion that they could incite violence in the future.” He then added that among them, five had been beaten and tortured during their custody. Mansour then explained that these incarcerations were part of a wider pattern of censoring Palestinian journalists.

The families of journalists in Gaza have also been targeted by the IDF. For instance, according to reports from Reuters and The Guardian, eight members of photojournalist Yasser Qudih’s family were killed on November 13 when their home in southern Gaza was hit by four missiles. On October 25, Wael Al-Dahdouh also lost his family to Israeli bombardments, after having moved to a house in the Nuseirat refugee camp in central Gaza, where they though they would be safer.

“People didn’t hear the story about Wael Al-Dahdouh when he lost his kids and wife […] If his name was John Smith I’m sure that it would have been a headline in Europe and America,” said Rafa. “It is so sad to see that there is such hypocrisy and such double standards when it comes to this. But this is reality.”

“All of us can only learn journalism from the journalists in Gaza,” declared Bisharat, pointing to the immense challenges and risks taken by the journalists on the ground. She explained that there exist three main challenges in covering what is happening in Gaza. Firstly, “we need to make sure that audiences outside Israel and Palestine understand that history didn’t begin on October 7 […] and that there is a regime of apartheid in full force in Israel/Palestine” she said. The second challenge regards getting the information out of Gaza, highlighting difficulties with the internet, blackouts, and concerns for their safety. “The third challenge is trying to connect the dots,” she explained. +972 continues its efforts to cover simultaneously what is happening in the West Bank in terms of settler violence and the expansion of settlements, but also events in Israel.

She then proceeded to share the story of Ibtisam Mahdi, mother of two children, who “while trying to feed them, does amazing work of journalism.” Her last work was on the destruction of Palestine’s historical sites. She also recalls Mahmood Mustafa, who wakes up every morning to find food and internet while trying to report and take care of his parents.

“They are the heroes of this war,” said Bisharat. “Despite having to take care of their own safety, taking care of their family, they keep doing amazing journalistic work.”

“Mainstream Western media has consistently marginalized and silenced Palestinian perspectives and have served to center and bolster Israeli narratives,” declared Dr. Allan to the Daily.

During her section of the panel, Rafa spoke out about issues in the international media coverage of Gaza. “There is a pattern here, not to put the context,” she explained, adding that “there is no conflict here, by the way, it’s an occupation. But if you don’t use the word occupation, how do you expect our audience to understand what is going on?” Rafa warned that not including the context and explaining the larger unfolding of events is not only “dangerous” but is also done “intentionally.”

“I think terminology is very important […] Instead of saying massacre they will say incident, instead of saying occupation they say conflict […] Things are not done by accident […] the problem is with the narrative, who is telling what, when and who is listening to what when how,” declared Rafa.

In 2002, Dr. Allan co-founded the Nakba Archive with Mahmoud Zeidan, a Palestinian educator and human rights advocate from Ayn Hilweh camp in South Lebanon. This community-run oral history project influenced her formation as a scholar of Palestine. She shared with the Daily the significance of oral history in highlighting the Palestinian experience and challenging dominant narratives about the Israeli-Palestinian conflict.

“I think Palestinians are often understood as abstractions — as humanitarian victims, as “terrorists,” but rarely as political subjects with legitimate aspirations for national self- determination, liberation, and the right to live dignified lives in peace and security,” she explained.

As part of the Nakba Archives, Allan and Zeidan recorded around 500 interviews about the 1948 expulsion of Palestinians, during the creation of the State of Israel, with first-generation Palestinians in camps across Lebanon over five years. Their aim in creating this archive is to re-centre Palestinian narratives, including those of Palestinian refugees, and expose the violent history of Israel’s state formation in the Middle East.

“A definitive history of the Palestinian Nakba, as told by Palestinians, has yet to be written.” she added. “Oral histories can fill some of these gaps, shed light on subaltern experience, and challenge settler colonial narratives — refugee narratives also have the power to transform our understanding of history itself — its form, substance and purpose, the matter of who tells it, what constitutes an ‘event’ or ‘truth.’”

While he wasn’t able to attend the panel in-person, journalist Mahmoud Mustafa sent a video describing his everyday struggles in getting news out of Gaza. “No words can describe this agony of life,” he says. While testifying to the inhumane consequences of the warfare carried out by the IDF — the constant worry, hunger, lack of sleep, search for shelter, and so on — we could hear sirens and loud noises in the background. “The Israeli army is trying to mute us,” he asserts, adding that “our rights to be journalists are denied.”

Mustafa responded to accusations made against him for not being neutral. “Why are you asking me to be neutral while my friends have been killed? What do you mean by ‘you have to be neutral’? I am facing the killing and the dangers every day.”

“We need the support of other journalists outside Palestine to complete our work, to amplify our voice,” he concluded.

Dr. Allan told the Daily that “in this moment, when the censorship and silencing of Palestinian voices and those in solidarity with Palestinian liberation is stronger than ever, supporting and amplifying the work of journalists like Mahmoud Mushtaha or Nidal Rafa is really vitally important.”

She concluded by empathizing with many students’ reaction to the McGill administration’s communication since the beginning of the war, highlighting the “unseemly power dynamics” at play in the unequal treatment of pro-Palestinian and pro-Israel voices on campus. “These forms of censorship and intimidation are very troubling and are something that all members of our community need to actively challenge,” she added.

Nidal Rafa prompted that “the world has to stop with their double standards and to say enough is enough. I think Palestinians are not asking for much. […] I say it’s very simple. There is an occupation here and Palestinians are asking for freedom and self- determination.”

On a more optimistic note, Bisharat added that “we are witnessing cracks in the international media in its coverage of Israel/Palestine,” referring to the work and fights of journalists such as Chris McGreal from The Guardian.

Sherif Mansour brought the event to a close by saying: “The consequences of what happens to Palestinian journalists are going to stay and go beyond this war, beyond this region. Because impunity like violence does not know boundaries.”

“Poetry as Resistance,” the next event on the “On Gaza” speaker series, is scheduled for March 12. The panel will be held in the Critical Media Lab, Peterson 108, from 2:30 to 4:00 p.m. Prof. Rula Abi Saab from IIS, herself a poet and novelist, will be moderating.

The post Journalism Under Siege appeared first on The McGill Daily.

Garvey’s extensive political work led to him to found the United Negro Improvement Association (UNIA), which by the early 1920s included over 700 branches in 38 American states. On 13 February, I made my way to Montreal’s very own UNIA branch to see When Big Man Talk, an art exhibition hosted by the Jamaica Association Arts Centre (JAM Arts Centre) to celebrate the legacy and spirit of Marcus Garvey’s work.

Established in 1919, the UNIA Hall on Notre-Dame Street West is still alive and thriving over 100 years later. Walking through the second set of doors, I was greeted by a warm, cozy room lined with rows and rows of easels displaying the eye-catching, emotive artwork of the exhibition’s four featured artists. I immediately felt myself captivated by the artists’ masterful use of mixed media, bold paints, and dynamic photography. I could have spent hours gazing at these pieces, which each took unique artistic liberties to translate Marcus Garvey’s message into our present and future worlds. 

Garfield Morgan’s work used a multimedia approach, using creative, unconventional materials to add a layer of dimension to his portraits. A didactic to the left of his exhibit listed gift wrap, a repurposed dress, African wax fabric, acrylic, oil paint, plaster, and repurposed plastic among some of the materials used. The exhibition program describes Morgan’s work as “resembling that of Jamaican master Daniel Heartman and the imagination of an Everald Brown.” I was particularly enchanted by Morgan’s striking use of contrast and silhouettes. One of my favourites was titled “Meditation (Echoes of a culture past, present and future)” which captures the serene, yet somber side profile of a young Black man in repose. 

The paintings by Anthony McLennon also included portraits: one was of his grandmother smiling gently, eyes glimmering, and another was of himself holding a wine glass while gazing back at the viewer. On When Big Man Talk’s program, McLennon is described as displaying “an uncanny ability to intricately render portraits, animals, and landscapes with accuracy and depth.” These skills were showcased masterfully in his painting “Can A Caged Bird Sing?” where a beach landscape forms the background for a row of crows, one of which is perched in a cage. His paintings depicting scenes from everyday life stirred even greater emotion. A piece titled “Just a Regular Day” portrays passengers traveling on a bus, including a Black man in the foreground looking down at his phone with a white “X” across his mouth. In an interview for the Daily, exhibit curator and director of the JAM Arts Centre Pat Dillon Moore said that this painting “speaks to how invisible a visible and audible minority can be.”

Daniel Saintiche’s photography was absolutely mesmerizing; the depth of movement, texture, and colour that he fits inside a single image make the contents jump to life before your very eyes. Saintiche’s didactic described his photographs as a window into “Montreal’s Black Community life in the 70s.” Scenes from Carnival showing music festivals, parades, and joyous celebrations were the main focus of the exhibit. The text in his section noted that “the carnival arts at one time boasted over 150,000 predominantly Black people on St. Catherine Street to Lafontaine Park. This was a huge financial contribution to Montreal’s coffers when every hotel room was booked.” Pat Dillon Moore pointed to one photograph in particular, where two women during Carnival in the 1970s are captured laughing with their arms around each other as they made their way down St. Catherine Street. It was truly amazing to experience how Saintliche’s skills allowed for this joyous occasion to transcend both the boundaries of time and space, pulling the viewer into a single storied moment in history. The exhibition program describes his talents best: Saintliche’s “journey is a tapestry woven with resilience, passion for the arts, and an unwavering dedication to capturing the essence of Montreal’s Black community.”

The other historical photographs in the exhibition were truly special to behold. Momentous instances of Black history in Montreal adorned the walls, tables, and complementary slideshow, detailing the rich contributions of Black visionaries in this city. A photograph of Bob Marley performing in Côtes-de-Neiges captures his first visit to the city, while a still from the 1968 Black Writers Congress – held at McGill University – featured Stokely Carmichael at the front and centre. Another image in the back of the exhibition showed Leroy Butcher and Muhammed Ali walking through Dorval airport. Viewing these photographs alongside the work from the contemporary artists beautifully wove together the threads of the exhibit’s thematic material, creating an impactful, fully fleshed-out experience that upholds Marcus Garvey’s message of lifting up Black excellence worldwide. 

The final piece of this exhibit takes this message to another dimension entirely. Quentin VerCetty centres Garvey’s goal of Black interconnectedness in his virtual exhibition experience Inside Garvey Yard. A free viewing experience for all, www.insidegarveyyard.com allows visitors to interact with a virtual Marcus Garvey museum from anywhere in the world. Viewers can answer questions and collect Black Star Line tokens to “reawaken the spirit of Garvey and hear his special message.” Pat Dillon Moore explained that VerCetty’s work “creates a space that speaks to Marcus Garvey’s time in Canada in a way that an intergenerational family – a grandmother and a grandchild – can both participate in. The grandchild can maneuver the joystick, while the grandparent or parent could speak to them about Garvey’s history.”  

The words of Pat Dillon Moore describe the impact of When Big Man Talk best: “I think the larger purpose behind When Big Man Talk is to put history and context behind our presence. And it’s no accident that we did it during Black History Month. In a sense, we are giving you the history within Black History Month. And there’s a lot of history that is hidden as time goes on. However, it’s about making the ties of yesterday to today. And prior to many of the movers and shakers, both men and women, there was a huge, impactful man by the name of Marcus Garvey, who from 1917 through the late 1930s, was here in Canada to improve the lives of Black people wherever in the world they were. And I think that’s important, to break the narrative that Black people, number one, just migrated here and that we take. No, we build. And the association that Garvey built, the UNIA, where we are now, is alive and thriving – and so is his legacy when it comes to improving the lives of Black people.” 

You can see an abbreviated version of When Big Man Talk on 24 February at the Oscar Peterson Concert Hall. To support the four featured artists – Garfield Morgan, Anthony McLennon, Daniel Saintiche, and Quentin Vercetty – you can keep up with their work at www.garfieldmorgan.org, @tony_mendez_3219 and @keepgrowingq on Instagram.

The post When Big Man Talk Lets Marcus Garvey’s Words Sing appeared first on The McGill Daily.

Students are hoping that the strike will foster a powerful sense of collective solidarity. Students from different backgrounds come together, united by a common cause, to draw on strength that lies in numbers. This unity can create a powerful force for change that can echo far beyond the strike’s immediate goals.

The strategic shift towards the strategy of departmental strikes is gaining traction, evidenced by the growing wave of student associations joining the movement. At Concordia, many departments have already held general assemblies and signed onto a strike floor of five participants, with one faculty association, the Fine Arts Student Association (FASA) also voting to strike. McGill, too, is witnessing a groundswell of departmental action, with the Religious Studies Undergraduate Society, the McGill Undergraduate Geography Society, and the Student Association of Sustainability, Science, and Society all voting to go on a three-day strike from January 31 to February 2.

Rising tuition fees at McGill and Concordia threaten to upend Quebec’s long-held reputation as a haven of affordable higher education, potentially rippling far beyond financial impact and into the very fabric of the province’s social identity. As Gaither pointed out to the Daily, “The stakes are incredibly high. This isn’t just about tuition prices; it’s about whether Quebec can maintain its commitment to accessible education for all.” 

These increases, far from being mere financial adjustments, are indicative of a deeper transformation in the province’s approach to funding higher education. For the student body, these hikes are not just an additional financial burden but are perceived as an encroachment upon the fundamental principles of accessibility and inclusiveness in their academic environments. This apprehension is rooted in the fear that higher tuition fees could deter potential students from diverse socioeconomic backgrounds, thereby diminishing the rich tapestry of experiences and perspectives that form the core of a vibrant university community. The hikes, therefore, pose a threat not only to the financial wellbeing of students but also to the very ethos of inclusiveness and diversity that these institutions strive to uphold.

As of now, out-of-province students already pay three times more in tuition than Quebec residents. With the Quebec government raising tuition fees for out-of-province undergraduate students from $8,992 to $17,000  per year, McGill is set to lose about 60 per cent of its out-of-province students. Soaring tuition fees would force students to rely heavily on loans, potentially saddling them with years of financial constraints and impacting their ability to pursue careers, start families, and contribute to the economy. This debt chain perpetuates inequalities and underlines the urgency of the student movement’s demands. Their fight goes beyond the issue of  immediate financial relief; it’s about safeguarding educational access, preventing debt-driven limitations, and ensuring economic mobility and social justice for future generations. Low-income out-of-province and international students will face a disproportionate burden, their dreams of higher education in Quebec potentially crushed under the weight of increased costs.

Lower-income students, already grappling with financial challenges, face a dire situation. The tuition hike threatens to exacerbate this existing struggle, jeopardizing their access to education and perpetuating the cycle of economic disadvantage. The impact of these disparities extends beyond individuals. The fight for affordable education, therefore, is not just about individual financial relief; it’s about safeguarding access to education as a fundamental right for all, regardless of background or financial standing. It’s about fostering a diverse and inclusive learning environment that reflects the richness of Quebec society. In essence, it’s a fight for a future where education empowers, not excludes, and where talent has the space to flourish regardless of postal code or family income.

Gaither compares departmental strikes to “screwing up the plumbing system,” strategically causing controlled disruptions to force a reckoning with the existing infrastructure. This targeted approach, while not as visually unified as a large-scale strike, still holds the potential to be enormously effective. 

“We are clogging up the pipes of an entire plumbing system, we’re coming from all angles and just screwing it up,” Gaither explained. “I think that gives us a lot more control in terms of like, where we want to strike, when we want to strike, and how long we want to strike for.” This flexibility and control empower students to target specific classes, and more effectively enforce the strike. 

Quebec’s rich history of student activism, dating back to the 1960s and 70s, is crucial in understanding the context of the current unrest at McGill and Concordia. The province has been a historical epicenter for student-led movements, with the 2012 “Maple Spring” protests standing as a landmark event in this legacy. These protests, which garnered international attention, were not solely focused on opposing tuition fee increases. They represented a broader struggle for student rights, educational reform, and societal change. The Maple Spring mobilized thousands of students in a display of solidarity and collective action, setting a precedent for how student activism could influence government policies and public opinion. The movement’s success was partly attributed to its ability to unite diverse student bodies under a common cause, transcending language barriers and institutional boundaries. This historical milestone in Quebec’s student activism highlights the potential impact that concerted student efforts can have on policy and governance.

The McGill and Concordia strike over tuition hikes is set to spark diverse reactions across campus communities. The departments most vocal about striking, as highlighted in the interview with Gaither, include those from the faculties of humanities and social sciences at both universities. Driven by a deep commitment to social justice and educational equity, RSUS is taking a firm stand against the tuition hikes by joining the effort and going on strike. Their stance is that affordable education is a cornerstone of a thriving society and that every student, regardless of background or financial means, deserves access to quality higher education. This perspective aligns with the traditional ethos of student activism in Quebec, where education is not just viewed as a commodity but as a right. However, there has been tension between those who prioritize the university’s image and reputation, and those who believe in the power of collective action for achieving broader benefits.

“We kindly refer to that as like clutching their pearls… that sentiment is always going to exist, particularly in the guild. But we want to always work around that and show that the collective interest does benefit everyone and that we can get wins this way” said Gaither.

The role of media and public discourse has been a critical component in the evolution and impact of student activism in Quebec, a fact that is particularly pertinent in the context of the potential strikes at McGill and Concordia Universities. Historically, media portrayal has played a dual role in student movements – both as a megaphone for acting activism causes and a lens through which public opinion is shaped and, at times, contested. As Gaither reminded us, the 2012 student movement resonated powerfully because it “tapped into a deep, collective yearning for change amidst a global backdrop of socio-economic and environmental crises, offering a narrative of transformation and renewal that was both appealing and mobilizing.”

The student strike isn’t merely a closed-door battle within the university walls; it’s a carefully orchestrated performance to spark public discourse. This understanding of the power of public discourse shapes the current movement’s strategy as well. Social media serves as a critical tool amplifying voices, mobilizing supporters, and generating real-time updates. 

“The overall strike tactic is like, rather than begging or lobbying or asking for something, we are directly negotiating and using our power,” Gaither explained. “Someone described this to me as a staring contest, either with the administration or with the government, and it’s to see who blinks first.” The aim, as Gaither emphasizes, is not simply to garner attention, but to spark crucial conversations about the affordability and accessibility of education. The movement seeks to shift the public narrative, challenging dominant assumptions about the value of higher education and its role in a just society. By framing the strike as a fight for everyone’s future, not just a select few, they hope to build a broader constituency and garner public support for their demands.

The strike, therefore, is not just about demanding change from the Quebec government. it’s about mobilizing a public conversation about the future of education in Quebec. By harnessing the power of media, social platforms, and open dialogue, students aim to shift the public narrative, garner support, and hold the government and university institutions accountable.  

The student strike represents a fraction of a wider struggle, a single cause which shares interests with many others. The movement gains strength from organizations like the Coalition of Resistance for a United Student Movement (CRUES), which brings together various student associations to enable collaboration and collective action. Gaither emphasized CRUES’s potential role in enhancing communication, strategizing, and amplifying the collective student voice. While not having a part in organizing the strike, CRUES could still contribute significantly to the movement. This collective spirit not only strengthens the movement but also creates a legacy of collaboration and mutual support. Students learn to advocate not just for their own concerns, but for the broader well-being of their peers, building a culture of empathy and shared responsibility.

Reflecting the spirit of unity and the resolve to make a significant impact, the potential strikes at McGill and Concordia serve as both a testament to and a catalyst for this evolving tradition of student activism. By standing together in these departmental strikes, students are not merely protesting tuition hikes; they are actively participating in a broader, historical movement towards creating a more inclusive, accessible educational system. As these students mobilize, they are setting the stage for a dynamic and transformative chapter in the pursuit of equitable education, signaling that the struggle for affordability and accessibility in higher education remains a vibrant and urgent cause.

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After months of brainstorming, organizing, and arranging the details for this event, Wang said, “We’re just really excited to put it out to the world. Not only are we following this TED tradition of platforming interesting, compelling, innovating ideas to foster a community hub of free exchange, but it is also just a moment to bring the community together.” 

TEDxMcGill, founded in 2009, organizes a yearly showcase to continue the TEDx legacy of “ideas worth spreading.” This year, they are presenting the theme “Kaleidoscope,” based on the instrument designed to display varying patterns through refractions of light, shifting in colour and design. The TEDx program was initiated to promote and encourage people from all across the world to speak on experiences, new ideas, or contrasting perspectives to shift our understanding of reality. Most often, speakers provide a space for breakthroughs or new innovations in research, but their talks are meant to spark productive conversation across global communities. Thus, the theme “Kaleidoscope” is meant to express everything that TEDx stands for: the exploration of beauty and diversity among the societies we live in. Nanami Haruyama, VP Memberships for the organization, commented on her brainstorming process for this theme. 

“Originally I thought of ‘Kaleidoscope’ to try to think of a simile or an analogy to what TEDx represents,” she explained, which she found to be “a combination and a platform for so many different ideas [and] people from different backgrounds and walks of life.” Rather than settling on a distinct idea, TEDxMcGill sought to reimagine what it feels like to engage in such bustling academic discourse, where anything and everything is possible. This theme also gives audiences a hint as to what they can expect to feel coming out of the event. Haruyama believes “that if you shift the Kaleidoscope, you have an entirely new perspective, and we wanted TEDx to represent that Kaleidoscope – a shift in perspective. That if you come to our event on February 4, you will leave having a new idea, a new perspective that you haven’t thought about.” 

This year’s application and recruitment cycle for TEDxMcGill was especially difficult due to the sheer number of people who applied or reached out to participate. Haruyama reflected on the process of looking through each applicant’s video and blurb about their speech topic to decide on who would be chosen. In total, there were 90 applicants – a large pool to select from. In addition to those who applied, many interested parties contacted TEDxMcGill themselves. She said, “It was so exciting just to hear the different possible talks that it was really hard to narrow it down to the final nine that we ultimately chose.” Despite the wide variety of options and topics that the team was presented with, they still tried to reach out to people who they felt would bring something unique and special to the TEDx stage. Wang in particular discussed their selection of McGill professor Oran Magal, who she was influenced by after taking two of his courses. She felt that his ideas were extremely compelling and worth sharing with the public. This once again relates to the goals of the TEDx organization: to find people who have voices that need to be shared, who would greatly contribute to the sphere of academic discourse. 

“We look through all of these videos, look at all their talks, and then we start to narrow it down in terms of the quality, the potential that we see, and the topic that they’re talking about,” said Haruyama in discussion of what the team has to do in choosing their final lineup. Wang described how ambitious the team was this year to seek out people who perhaps did not apply but who the team felt would bring so much to the table.

“Recruitment through application is great and all, but what we find a lot of the time when it comes to opening the doors and letting anybody come in and give us their ideas is that people try to exploit the name of TED, seeing it as a pedestal to boost their own careers or their personal agendas,” Wang stated. “That’s why curation and the membership team is just so important in terms of closing those floodgates and really actively crafting a speaker list that is not just ideologically oriented or politically driven, but actually idea-based – or talks that are action-oriented, that seek active solutions, and you’ll find that in all of our speakers this year.” The organization wants to be a space where true productive conversation can ignite; instead of simply platforming theory or new research, they want to highlight personal experience and real struggles – stories which can inspire change.

TEDxMcGill is also committed to delivering one-of-a-kind thoughts that not only pertain to the world but are special to the McGill and greater Montreal communities. They seek to provide a space for young people, who are often bypassed in favour of adults or those with more life experience, to voice their ideas. 

“This year we’re really emphasizing undergrad. We feel that undergrads feel like they should not – or cannot – talk for some reason,” said Wang,, speaking about what she believes to be one of the most important things to come out of this year’s conference. Of their nine speakers, four are McGill undergraduate students, each with their own perspectives to share. The program finds itself unique in its ability to offer such an important stage to these students who are passionate and well-versed in their area of study. 

Hanna Eik, one of the team’s Speaker Coordinators, also said, “I think it’s nice to see a lot of younger voices on our stage. When you see people who look like you on stage, it makes you think ‘Oh! I can do the same.’” The team believes that, in order to foster curiosity and learning, it is imperative to have this sort of diversity presented at their conference. Over the years, students have become inspired by the TEDxMcGill event to apply and get a chance to present their own ideas, Eik added, which she finds is one of the most important things this organization can offer to aspiring students at McGill. Ultimately, she believes that “one of the big beauties with TED is the circular nature of being an active viewer and wanting to be a TEDx speaker.” 

The TEDx program’s goals are to highlight the importance of seeking knowledge within various communities across the world. Different localities may present a diverse array of ideas special to that particular location, and hearing from the voices that occupy our communities is so critical to giving TEDxMcGill its own unique sparkle. The upcoming presentations offer perspectives not only on their particular research areas but also on their personal experience and culture. Thus, TEDxMcGill becomes a focal point for the cumulation of research, self-exploration, and representation of the Montreal community. When discussing with a few of the executive team members, speaker coordinator Roberto Concepcion expressed excitement to hear from Elaine Xiao. 

“Her talk focuses on overcommitment and burnout, and it’s something that I feel like a lot of us recognize,” he said. Although geared towards students, the all-too-familiar loss of motivation or exhaustion from overwork is something that everyone can resonate with. Concepcion added that Xiao “is able to bring in a lot of research and her own personal experiences.” The ability to tell individual stories is what makes each TEDx speech unique.

The TEDxMcGill team also believes that having these spaces for public speaking, active listening, and academic discussion are so important to preserve the flow of imagination and creativity in our everyday lives. It is not often that one can engage in conversations pertaining to the common struggle or to new innovations that are designed to create an impact on the listener. For this reason, TEDxMcGill succeeds at preserving the integrity of what TEDx stands for. 

“It goes back to that old adage of ‘think global, act local’ in terms of whether that’s building relationships or exploring how certain thoughts can be made into actions,” Wang concluded. “Being in an environment where that is not just encouraged but is the point of that environment is really empowering. That feeling you get when you’re there is unlike anything else.” 

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Walking through the exhibition, one can recognize shapes and forms that are commonly associated with tableware and architecture. Large round bowls are accompanied by vases and tall ceramic sculptures that resemble edifices. However, each sculpture’s colours and textures reveal an interpretation that subverts these initial comparisons. Different shades and hues appear on closer inspection, seemingly hand-painted — giving insight on the artist’s creative process. In addition, Prairie purposely designed her sculptures to allow viewers to look inside them. Depending on the abstraction of her pieces, each artwork either features a crevice or is completely laid open for viewers to engage with both the inside and the outside of each sculpture. 

Le contenant comme métaphore presents works by Prairie ranging from different periods of her career, guiding the viewer into an intimate understanding of her knowledge and artistry. She challenges conventional ceramics as a utilitarian craft and as a tool to occupy space. The viewer is compelled to reconsider their understanding of artistic spatial rendering by integrating negative space as a key part of each sculpture. She refuses to consider space as a void that must be filled, and instead invites it to be part of her work. 

As such, the viewer is offered different perspectives on our individual perceptions of space. Usually, no one thinks to imagine the inside of an object or sculpture. However, in this exhibition, Prairie compels viewers to reflect on the void within each sculpture – as reflected by the title of the exhibition. Prairie turns her sculptures into transformative experiences that push the boundaries of what ceramic sculpture can represent, expanding our understanding of art and our environment by encouraging viewers to explore the spaces that surround us. 

Throughout her career, Prairie has moved from studio to studio. This constant migration compelled her to adapt her projects to different environments and develop new skills, which in turn has allowed her to create distinct and innovative works of art. By never having the same kilns, tools, or materials, she can explore many different styles and ideas. The insight she has gained from this process has distinguished her as a true fixture in the field of ceramic technology. Eager to share her knowledge, she has been teaching the theory and practice of color at the Centre de céramique Bonsecours for 30 years.  

Her approach is reminiscent of the way the studio artist Robert Piepenburg writes about space: “Without this intentional interaction with that visual void there is no interconnected dynamic of resolution — no final state of contentment — where all of the work’s design elements come together and exist as a cohesive whole.” Prairie’s sculptures invite viewers to reflect on the relationship between artistic form and operative space, urging us to recognize that both of these concepts can be considered in different ways than we are accustomed to. 

Prairie reflects on the idea of perspective by purposely creating sculptures that allow the viewer to peer inside each sculpture and understand how a ceramic form can render space more tangible. In this regard, her sculptures are not simply aesthetically innovative due to her choice of color or texture. For instance, the bowls placed at the entrance captivate the viewer’s eye due to their prominence in size and colour.  But beyond beauty and brightness, she also reflects on the interactions with space that render her sculptures. By experimenting with the way artistic forms mold our impression of the spaces they both do and don’t occupy, Prairie’s work not only transforms our understanding of negative space but compels us to engage with it. She offers different manners of viewing the inside of her sculptures, pushing our boundaries through  familiar forms.

Upon entering the exhibit, the viewer is met first with a series of large bowls in orange and yellow tones, deceptively utilitarian in their shape and figure. Upon closer inspection, however, subtle details in texture and form begin to emerge: throughout the exhibition, imprints left by the artist’s fingertips can be noticed on each sculpture. 

Prairie’s sculptures use the method of coiling, a traditional pottery technique in which clay is rolled into long thin cylinders to be combined by hand into larger shapes. This method adds a distinct texture to her ceramics, in addition to allowing for subtle asymmetrical between the sculptures that Prairie displays in pairs. These asymmetries are born from the human touch – a reminder of the actual and deeply physical relationship between the human sculptor and the “spaces” within her artwork.

Prairie says about this characteristic of her sculptures: “The exhibition demonstrates how each corpus feeds the other.”  These slight variations from each sculpture remind the viewer of the organic variation introduced by the artist’s touch.

Prairie’s experimentation with innovative materials and techniques is also showcased in her collection. The unconventional choice of using encaustic as a medium for colour in her sculpture distinguishes her from most other ceramic sculptors. A medium normally used in paintings, the technique consists of heating wax until it takes on the artist’s desired coloration. Once heated, the wax becomes incredibly sensitive and hardens almost immediately once it comes into contact with ceramics, capturing any momentary variation in the material. Over the years, Prairie has perfected her technique using this blend of beeswax and pigments to control the intensity of color on her sculptures. 

By using encaustic, she also renders all her sculptures non-functional. Since the pigment is toxic, any tableware coated in it would not be suitable for contact with food. In eliminating the possibility of using her ceramics for their respective “functions”, she instead invites the notion of interpreting each container as a metaphor. By decentralizing the aspect of functionality in her ceramics, she allows viewers to reflect on the vessels based solely on their appropriation of space.

Through these artistic choices, Prairie encourages a new kind of thinking  about form and function as they relate to each other. By leaning away from the common preconception that function in ceramics supercedes form, she reveals the limitless artistic possibilities that come with this change of perspective. 

Prairie further engages with the viewer’s understanding of space by mimicking architectural forms in her sculptures. Shown here, she makes use of shapes and proportions customarily associated with buildings, in addition to applying a brick-like pigment to the ceramics. Curiously, she also leaves an empty space within each sculpture. In doing this she invites the viewer to look inside and consider the validity of spatial dichotomies such as the interior and exterior, or the private and the public – notions often found within architecture. The inclusion of hollow spaces inside these sculptures  imbues each one with additional meaning. 

Whether they may be bowls, vases, containers, or even abstract forms of clay, each of Prairie’s sculptures retains a central space. Her philosophy and the theme it addresses are reminiscent of the work of another Canadian artist, Rolland Poulin, who shares her fascination with the possibilities offered by our conception of space. Poulin once stated: “Le sol n’est pas un espace nature: c’est l’espace que la sculpture et le spectateur partagent.” (The ground is no longer a neutral space: it’s the space that the sculpture and the viewer share). His observation is sympathetic to what Prairie aims to express with her exhibition, emphasizing the power of space as well as its relationship with – and impact on – the viewer. 

In Prairie’s exhibition, the audience are not simply spectators but active participants in her transformative discourse where they are invited to inquire within about their preconceptions and engage in introspection. Le contenant comme métaphore fosters a deep appreciation for the relationship between space and form, allowing for her artistic brilliance to shine due to the subtle and delicate details in each of her sculptures. Claude Prairie’s work is not simply a testament to her mastery in the realm of ceramics, but a subtle reminder that within our imagination is the potential to shape our ideas and create our own realities. 

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From “pedagogical cinema” to the Fifth Generation

Ever since the establishment of the People’s Republic of China (PRC) in 1949, cinema was destined to have a unique place in China’s cultural space. Film production was incorporated into the state’s vision for the economy; annual meetings dictated the agenda of upcoming film releases and funding for studios came directly from the state. Popular performance art, with their entertainment value, came to be used as a means of political and ideological expression. The films made with government support and funding include “model plays” such as Red Detachment of Women (1960). While they are intriguing in their social and artistic significance, they nonetheless remained “art of the state.”

In 1978, the end of the Cultural Revolution and the beginning of an era of reforms marked a new period in Chinese culture and economy. The filmmaking scene was no exception to this economic and social change. The state’s diminishing involvement in the cultural arts, and the political opening provided by the CPC’s admission of past mistakes allowed filmmakers to address previous years of strife, albeit often indirectly. The emerging directors of this era, most of whom were students at the Beijing Film Academy, also became exposed to the potential of film as an expression of their individual visions in a way that the previous generations did not. The result was a cinematic discourse that made it possible for filmmakers to direct their films in ways that moved beyond the pedagogical function of cinema that had characterized much of Chairman Mao’s regime. This generation of directors, commonly referred to as the fifth-generation, produced films that recorded Chinese modernity, and were subversive in the sense that they displaced the grand “national narrative” envisioned by the previous generation by turning to personal memories and local histories. These fifth-generation films, the most famous of which include Yellow Earth (1984), Blue Kite (1993) Horse Thief (1986), and Red Sorghum (1987), are typically set in the pre-revolutionary period but comment indirectly on the post-revolutionary era. They are often characterized by their intricate and complicated relationship with history, echoing the directors’ memories of the turbulence of their own youth.

These themes can be seen, for instance, in Chen Kaige’s Yellow Earth, which follows a communist soldier on a mission to gather folk songs from the countryside. This film drew upon Chen’s experience as a “sent-down” youth to the countryside, retold through the soldier’s realization of the immense disparity between the narrative of party salvation that he had been told in his urban upbringing and the reality of rural villages still rife with poverty and exploitation. This focus is also shown in Farewell My Concubine (1992), a film rich with exploration of gender roles, the relationship between individuals and history, tragedy, and fate. Throughout this era and after, the lives of the marginalized — queer people, thieves, and prostitutes — were beginning to be depicted on the big screen in ways that they never had before.

Space and Creativity

The cultural and political space of the 1990s and early 2000s can be encapsulated by two events: the 1989 Tiananmen protests and Deng Xiaoping’s 1992 Southern Tour. The tone of the new decade was set by Deng Xiaoping’s 1992 Southern Tour, during which it became clear that China would reorient away from the old command economy and towards marketization. China’s intellectual and business exchanges with the international community soared, and cultural producers started initiating their own projects instead of waiting for government assignments. Yet, the civil society that arose from the reform era was still constrained by past institutions. All this is encapsulated in the other part of the political junction: just a few years earlier, the 1989 Tiananmen protest and its subsequent governmental response clearly indicated the existence of certain red lines, and foreclosed the possibility of visible oppositional culture in China. Chinese society and its cultural production was, in the words of Carlos Rojas, haunted by “spectres of Marx, shades of Mao, and the ghosts of global capital.” The resulting artistic and cultural space was one in which economic freedom was offered to citizens in exchange for their political and ideological loyalty at the margins.

The film industry, as a space that operates within and reports upon the nation’s cultural and political environment, has also responded to these historical changes in various dimensions. On one hand, the commercial film industry grew, financing methods transitioned from state-sponsored to private investment, and box office success became much more important than it had ever been. Hollywood made its entrance into the Chinese market in the early 90s: the market beckons, even if this relationship had been characterized by both hope and frustrations. On the other hand, the 1989 part of the political junction meant that filmmakers were still subject to differing levels of censorship.

Both the regulation and bodies of censorship have been an ever-changing process, but the one constant is how inconsistent and arbitrary it has been for the past three decades. While all commercially released films have to be submitted to the relevant film bureau bodies prior to screening, there also existed a semi-shadow industry where China’s independent cinema scene grew. While independent cinema in the West typically refers to films that are not mainstream or not produced by large studios, independent cinema in China refers to films that are not submitted to censorship. While these independent films don’t get released anywhere commercially within China, they were seen and circulated in China in a quasi-underground manner ranging from showings at small film festivals, informal screening venues, or through online distribution. Up until 2017, when the new film law passed, these films occupied the grey zones of Chinese regulation—hundreds of independent documentaries and features were made in this space each year. Some were entered into film festivals overseas, such as Summer Palace (2006), or more recently The Widowed Witch (2017), both of which received successful festival runs but no or limited domestic release. Domestic independent film festivals across the country also provided space for creators to connect.

Pardon, Your Camera is in My Face

The subjects of the sixth-generation cinema and the documentary movement between the 1990s and early 2010s were made up of a heterogenous crew of taxi drivers, migrant workers, prostitutes, KTV hostesses, construction workers — those that bore the brunt of China’s social transition. These sixth generation directors, the most famous of whom include Jia Zhangke, Wang Xiaoshuai, and Zhang Yuan, concern themselves intensely with the present, if the fifth generation films are primarily concerned with representations of history, then these sixth generation films are cinematic articulations of ways in which socioeconomic transformations were experienced by individuals. These independent films created from the 1990s through the 2010s confront various legal and practical limitations of filmmaking and social life in China on an individual scale, telling stories of ordinary problems being navigated by everyday people. Huang Weikai’s Disorder (2009), which consists of a series of short vignettes of  urban life in Guangzhou, documents the chaotic, absurd, but nonetheless vibrant moments brought by rapid and profound social change. In a similarly quotidian vein, Duan Jinchuan’s No. 16 Barkhor South Street (1996) follows the lives of people in Tibet, de-romanticizing and demystifying their everyday exchanges. Hanjia’s Winter Vacation (2010), set in a frost-bitten Northern China, depicts subjects who imagine their self-identity beyond the confines of their small town. These films follow the thread of China’s cultural and economic transformation, plucking the authentic experiences and memories of the Chinese people from the noise of materialism pervading the nation at the turn of the century. The world as projected by these filmmakers through their subjects’ eyes is a reflection on Chinese modernity itself.

In 2017, the Film Industry Promotion Law came into effect in China, codifying comprehensive regulation on independent domestic films. Screenings of films without a dragon seal — the title card which would appear at the beginning of a film signalling its official approval for release — was banned in theatres and semi-private institutions alike. As international exposure had been crucial to the distribution and reception of the aforementioned independent films, the new law prohibiting these domestic films from being shown in overseas film festivals without the dragon seal became yet another detrimental force in a market already tense with commercial pressures. In this environment, the number of independent film festivals, such as Nanjing’s China Independent Film Festival, dwindled. In the commercial space, while numbers soared at Chinese box offices, the hits of cinema consisted largely of war epics like Wolf Warrior (2015) or comedies driven by star power such as Hi, Mom (2021).

The combination of extensive regulations and pressing commercial influence created immense pressure in the Chinese independent film industry. Yet in spite of these pressures, the impetus for cinematic freedom can still be found in young creators who are still creating with inexhaustible vitality and creativity. That same impetus inspires content, channels, and voices in places that audiences would not normally expect — we need to look no further than the past 50 years of Chinese cinema for humbling reminders of the ways that ingenuity can transcend its confinements.

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The Advisory Committee

The Advisory Committee for the Selection of the Principal and Vice-Chancellor is mandated to create a profile for the role and find qualified candidates to nominate to the Board of Governors (BoG), who ultimately make the hiring decision. The Advisory Committee of 2022 was chaired by Maryse Bertrand and included representatives from the BoG, the Senate, the McGill Alumni Association, the McGill Association of University Teachers, the Administrative and Support Staff, and Student Associations, specifically SSMU and the Post-Graduate Students’ Society (PGSS). 

Within the Advisory Committee of 2022, graduate and undergraduate students were represented respectively by Kristi Kouchakji, Secretary General of the PGSS, and Kerry Yang, VP University Affairs at SSMU. Former VP University Affairs Claire Downie had originally been appointed to the committee, but left after resigning from her position in April 2022, leaving the committee without a SSMU representative until Yang took office in June 2022. 

“In principle, all reps from all spheres of university life are to have equal input into the selection or reappointment of the position in question,” Kouchakji told the Daily. “In practice, the inequitable power dynamics that exist across the university are often replicated in these committees as they are anywhere else.” However, she added that “this specific committee is one of only four I have sat on in seven years at McGill that did legitimately hold space for student input.” 

In conversation with the Daily, Yang agreed that everyone on the committee got a chance to speak and express their opinion. He said that the way Bertrand ran the committee was “very fair.” Kouchakji also believed that Bertand did a good job of managing the committee, which she acknowledges is not an easy job. “If the chair is managing things effectively, then sooner or later you come to a point where people understand each other’s constituents’ needs a little bit better, and then the discussions and negotiations and reflections really start getting productive,” she explained. 

The search was done in collaboration with Perrett Laver, an international firm specializing in leadership advising. This partnership was established through a “call to tender,” a process where companies bid for public service contracts worth over $100,000 required by Quebec legislation. Yang describes the firm’s role as a “headhunter,” explaining that they were largely responsible for sourcing qualified candidates.

Community Consultations

In order to get input from the McGill community, the Advisory Committee organized community consultation sessions in April and May 2022 to develop a profile for the new Principal and Vice-Chancellor, outlining ideal qualities, experience, and priorities for the candidate. According to documents obtained by the Daily, in these sessions participants were asked about the priorities and requirements that they found valuable in a potential candidate. Often, these characteristics relate to a candidates’ values, leadership skills, qualifications, and experience. Some of the priorities identified in the final profile included deepening the university’s research capabilities, improving the quality of the student experience, attracting diverse staff, faculty and students, and increasing sources of funding to support projects such as the New Vic and the Fiat Lux projects. Selection criteria also included a commitment to “Indigenization” and reconciliation as well as being fully bilingual and having knowledge of the French-speaking context of Quebec.

The Daily obtained summary notes from these consultations through an access to information (ATI) request. Specifically, the consultations identified many current challenges with regards to the relationship between the senior administration and the students, faculty, and staff. According to the notes, McGill is faced with a “new generation of students with different worldview[s] and expectations,” such as a need for greater mental health support. They recognized that the student body is more diverse than before, and many feel as if McGill doesn’t adequately prepare them for the workforce. The notes also identified a need to be more “faculty and staff-centric,” given an “us vs them” mentality emerging between staff and senior administration. This was demonstrated by staff unions going on strike due to their treatment by upper management, and consultations called for the new leadership to build a better relationship with the unions.

However, representatives from the McGill University Non-Academic Certified Association (MUNACA) told the Daily that they were concerned that “not enough weight was given to how a candidate interacts with labour unions and associations of the university.” They also added that the underlying issues identified in the consultations, such as “insufficient salaries and cost of living increases, lack of training, lack of sufficient staffing sustainability, and HR transparency and the high employee turnover McGill is currently experiencing,” still remain present.

Kouchakji said that public consultations had a good turnout, being  well attended by staff, faculty, the Board, and senior admin. However, student participation was lower than the committee would have liked to see. She attributes this to suboptimal timing, as the sessions took place during the final exam period when many students would have been busy. In addition, consultations took place between Downie’s resignation and the beginning of Yang’s term, meaning that there was not a SSMU representative on the committee at the time to relay information to undergraduate students. Kouchakji said that the broader committee had no input on when the consultations took place, but assumed it was decided by the Chair and Secretary, who were also responsible for publicizing them.

“At a certain point, when you’ve organized these things to happen over finals and in the days leading up to the final grading deadline, and you’ve publicized them mostly by posting them on an obscure website no one visits and by lumping them in with newsletters no one really reads, no amount of retweeting, sharing, amplifying, [or] mobilizing from student societies is going to save them,” she said when explaining the low student turnout.

The Final Selection

As the McGill community found out in November 2022, the Advisory Committee ended up choosing H. Deep Saini as the new Principal and Vice-Chancellor. Although committee members aren’t allowed to reveal who the other candidates were, they were able to provide insight as to why Saini stood out compared to the rest. 

“Saini was a very good candidate on paper,” Yang explained. “Some of the other candidates did have more pronounced weaknesses [while] Saini didn’t really have any weaknesses [ …] in comparison to the criteria that we set up.”

Yang added that Saini’s knowledge of French was a large asset. As Saini was a professor at the University of Montreal for 18 years, he’s familiar and able to interact with the Quebec government, which is a key strength given the Advisory Committee’s position profile prioritizes maintaining strong relationships with the provincial government. Saini has worked at four of Canada’s U15 universities (Dalhousie, University of Waterloo, University of Toronto Mississauga, and University of Montreal), indicating that he has a good understanding of the funding infrastructure for research-heavy universities in Canada. Yang said that the committee also considered Saini to be someone who was strong in the administrative aspect, able to make tough decisions, and had a good vision for McGill.

While Kouchakji couldn’t say much without breaking confidentiality, she acknowledged that “a legitimate consensus was reached based on the information the committee was provided during the process.”

“He exemplifies the rare mix of strong academic leadership with a wide-ranging and international perspective,” the McGill Media Relations office wrote in a statement to the Daily. “A collaborative and innovative thinker who sees challenges as opportunities and who has the ability to set a long-term vision for the University, Prof. Saini is the perfect choice for McGill as it embarks on its third century.”

Nevertheless, Yang acknowledged that he was aware that many students might have concerns about a situation that arose during Saini’s tenure at Dalhousie. In October 2022, teaching assistants, part-time instructors, and markers represented by the CUPE 3912 union at Dalhousie went on strike after negotiations with the university failed. The union claimed that the current wages for its members were less than at other major universities despite Dalhousie charging some of the highest tuition rates in the country. Saini also received criticism for raising Dalhousie’s tuition fees during the pandemic, despite student protests demanding a tuition freeze. That same year, Saini received a substantial increase in salary, going from $492,001 in 2020-2021 to $558,154 in 2021-2022. Yang said that he, along with other committee members, raised this issue, but the committee eventually came to the consensus that Saini did a good job managing the situation.

Saini’s history is also very concerning to MUNACA, especially given that he left his previous position mid-mandate following the aforementioned labour dispute. “There are many unions who will be negotiating new collective agreements soon or who are already negotiating,” they told the Daily. “Let us see how those go and how [Saini] reacts to them.”

While Yang and Kouchakji were both generally satisfied with the selection process, they both identified areas where it could’ve been improved. For Yang, the main challenge was stepping onto the committee in the middle of the process after Downie had resigned and the committee had been without an undergraduate representative for some time. He said that it would have helped if someone else had been able to step in temporarily to ensure that undergraduates were represented.

When asked about this dilemma, Kouchakji explained that these types of advisory committees “aren’t standing committees who regularly cycle members in and out and can bring new members up to speed with minimal friction; they’re engaged in a specific, ideally linear process, and after a certain point it’s increasingly complicated and arguably detrimental to all to be swapping out members for interim reps.” She added that much of the content discussed in these committee meetings is confidential, making it more complicated to onboard additional members.

“In such scenarios [when one group is not represented], the best whoever is in the room can do is to think about what they’ve observed in their time interacting with the opposite group and what broader issues those observations might point to,” she said.

Kouchakji also expressed a desire for more student and staff representation on the committee. She acknowledged that given the demanding nature of the role, there should be incentives such as academic release, tuition rebates, and paid release time for workers to make participation more accessible. She added that the process should be more transparent to allow the broader McGill community to participate in the final decision. She suggested that they “require final-shortlisted candidates for senior admin roles to give job talks at Senate and on a widely-publicized (within McGill) livestream with an unvetted Q&A session after, and then let Senate vote on their preferred candidate(s) by electronic ballot over a week to give them time to take feedback from their constituents as well.”

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Xylazine is proof of the danger of supply side intervention or drug prohibition. As a result of prohibition, Canada’s opioid supply is becoming increasingly unpredictable and therefore risky. Since the mid-2010s, when heroin and other opioids began to be diluted with fentanyl, there has been a dramatic increase in the number of opioid-related overdoses in North America. This has led many to refer to the spike in overdoses as the “fentanyl crisis.” Fentanyl is a widely prescribed and highly effective painkiller, often given to people recovering from surgery. Since the beginning of the crisis, fentanyl has been the subject of much misinformation and law enforcement efforts, with some going so far as to (inappropriately) call it a weapon of mass destruction. One of the most important protective factors for people who use opioids in recent years has been the increased availability of take-home naloxone kits. Naloxone is an opioid antagonist that blocks the effects of opioids on the brain for a limited period of time, which can temporarily reverse an overdose. 

Xylazine, like fentanyl, is a central nervous system depressant, meaning that too large of a dose will result in the same symptoms fentanyl can produce: lowered heart rate and decreased respiration. Unlike fentanyl, xylazine is not an opioid, meaning that naloxone will not have any effect on a xylazine overdose. It is not, as some have said, “resistant” to naloxone – it is simply a different substance altogether. That said, in the case of tranq dope, the combination of fentanyl and xylazine, naloxone may mitigate an overdose by blocking the effects of fentanyl. People responding are advised to check whether the person is breathing, protect the head and airways, apply naloxone, and call for backup. 

In addition to the risk of overdose, xylazine poses a challenge because it causes painful and dangerous wounds, which can appear regardless of the method of consumption. Even in cases where the substance was injected, the wounds are not necessarily found at the site of injection, often appearing on the shins and forearms. The wounds lead to an eruption of eschar, a type of dead skin. If left untreated, eschars can be quite severe, with some cases leading to amputation. Research into xylazine’s effects on humans was discontinued early in its development, with the effect that very little is known about how it functions in the human body. The drug began to grow in popularity as a recreational substance in Puerto Rico in the mid-2000s, with researchers observing the risk of infection as early as 2011. Doctors remain unsure of what exactly causes the wounds, which resemble chemical burns or skin ulcers and which appear in nearly 40 per cent of people who use xylazine. 

Xylazine was synthesized in the 1960s as a treatment for hypertension and is used extensively by veterinarians as a sedative or anaesthetic, often in conjunction with ketamine. It’s been used recreationally by humans since the early 2000s, making it a relatively new addition to the recreational drug scene, with little research done to investigate its effects on the body. Xylazine was rejected by the FDA for use in humans because of the risk of hypotension, which has led to a dearth of information about its mechanism of action in the human body.  

In the case of tranq dope, xylazine appears to be being used as a cutting agent. A cutting agent is a product used to dilute recreational drugs with something less expensive than the drug itself in order for the manufacturer to increase their profit margin. When a bar sells a mimosa instead of a glass of champagne, for instance, the orange juice is the cutting agent. If the government decided to crack down on mimosa consumption by banning the sale of orange juice, bartenders would be forced to innovate. Some speculate that this is what has led to tranq dope – as political leadership and law enforcement focus on fentanyl, manufacturers may be innovating by adding xylazine to their products in order to stretch their supply.

Illegal substances are impossible to regulate. While legal medications have to meet stringent requirements regarding ingredients, unregulated substances are held to no such standard. This is not unique to the illicit substance market. The nature of the unregulated global drug market often means that a product will pass through many hands before reaching the consumer. At each step of the supply chain, the person supplying has a financial incentive to cut the substance in order to increase their profit. The more links in the chain, and the more often the product has been cut or diluted, the more opportunities for a toxic interaction or undesired effect. 

Suppliers often improvise using products that are affordable, easily accessible, and that mimic the effects and physical properties of the substance being cut. When choosing a cutting agent, the manufacturer usually tries to find a substance that is inexpensive, easy to get, relatively non-toxic, and copies the physical attributes of the drug to be adulterated, such as cutting cocaine with caffeine.  

Supply side intervention is the practice of banning a psychoactive substance in order to discourage its use. In theory, banning the use of drugs will reduce the supply of a particular substance and force people to stop using it. However, the reality is more complex. A myriad of examples demonstrate what decriminalization advocates refer to as the “Iron Law of Prohibition,” which states simply that: “the harder the enforcement, the harder the drugs.” As pressure from law enforcement increases, demand does not decrease. Instead, suppliers turn to more potent alternatives. This is one of the ways that drug prohibition, despite its good intentions, actually increases the risk to public health associated with psychoactive substances. 

At the beginning of the twentieth century, when opium was first banned, some suppliers began selling heroin, which was both far more potent than opium and odorless, making it harder to detect. As law enforcement tightened border regulations and increased penalties associated with the sale and possession of heroin, suppliers turned to selling fentanyl, which is more potent and synthetic, meaning it can be conveniently produced in a lab. A potent cutting agent is especially attractive under prohibition because the more potent a substance is, the less volume is required to achieve the same effects. Less volume means it’s easier to transport undetected. Evidence suggests that xylazine potentiates the effects of opioids, meaning that less opioid is needed to achieve the desired effect. 

The pandemic and the ensuing lockdowns have also contributed significantly to disruptions in the supply chain for psychoactive substances as much as for anything else. Border closures considerably affected the stability of Montreal’s opioid market, contributing to a significant increase in fatal overdoses beginning in 2020. 

Some might suggest that the answer is to make xylazine less readily available, but experts disagree. Dr. Kim Sue, Assistant Professor at the Yale School of Medicine, advocates supervised consumption sites as a response to the current crisis as well as an end to the stigma surrounding illicit substance use. Sue says, “What kills [her patients] is our society’s cruelly stigmatizing approach to substance use disorders and the lack of safe places they can use and receive immediate overdose supports.” Maia Szalavitz, author of Undoing Drugs, has also spoken out against the use of law enforcement to respond to a public health crisis, as have many others. Locally, Francois Mary, director of Cactus Montreal, called on public health to share data promptly and invest further in drug screening to protect the public. 

Doubling down on supply side interventions is likely to keep producing the same results – more unpredictable and potentially risky innovations by suppliers leading to uncertainty and danger for consumers – and yet Western governments persist in their effort to scare users straight by allowing some of them to die unnecessarily. People who use opioids deserve access to a safe supply. People who use xylazine deserve knowledge and research to make using it safer. Prohibition is not keeping citizens safer. It makes using drugs more dangerous by preventing research and regulation and by making it more difficult for people who use drugs to seek information and support. If the goal of prohibition is public health and safety, then it has been a failure and we need to end it. If the goal of prohibition is to violently coerce the public into “good behaviour” and sobriety, then it has been a failure and we need to end it. If the goal of prohibition is to make the lives of vulnerable Canadians even more dangerous and precarious, then the proliferation of xylazine in the opioid supply is the latest example of its success. 

Urgent action is necessary to protect the lives of people who use drugs in Montreal and elsewhere. It is clear that supply side interventions are endangering our communities. It is inaccurate to refer to this ongoing crisis as a fentanyl crisis – it is a toxic drug supply crisis, and its origin is not opioids but dangerously misguided drug policy. If anyone wishes to learn more or to get involved, AQPSUD – the Association Québécoise pour la promotion de la santé des personnes utilisatrices de drogues – will host an overdose awareness event in Montreal on April 6 at Place Émilie-Gamelin. 

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Despite the organization’s disappointing track record, every March hopeful SSMU executives continue to envision a brighter tomorrow. In studying the past ten years, we have seen platforms fall in and out of favour, such as political neutrality and financial reform. We have also seen election campaigns detail projects that take years, rather than a single term, to come to fruition: notably, a fall reading week and the sexual violence policy, which cropped up many times before being implemented – or, in the case of the fall reading week, partially implemented. 

Process and Caveats

In the following piece, I look at the promises SSMU presidential candidates have made in the last ten years at a quantitative level. Although I was able to access pen sketches dating back a few years, candidate platforms have not been systematically archived. As a result, the keywords I used were plucked from endorsements written by the Daily, The McGill Tribune, and The Bull & Bear. When a candidate attaches a key tenet to their platform, I record the tenet, in a phrase of one to four words, in a spreadsheet that can be accessed on the online version of this article. I select the six most stressed tenets from each candidate unless the candidate has fewer than six tenets. The project is to record the trajectory of the past ten years – to identify promises that resurface time and again – and to contemplate why some concerns are never resolved.

I have merged the terms “sexual assault policy” and “sexual violence policy” into “sexual violence policy” given the recent semantic shift to using the word “violence” in place of “assault.” Some candidates mentioned a desire to hold office hours without using that phrase – I took the liberty of assuming these candidates referred to office hours. My only other amalgamation is “marginalized groups.” Some candidates mentioned specific demographics – for instance, women or racialized students – and since I was interested in capturing the broader trend of advocating for marginalized demographics as a platform, I grouped all relevant uses into the term “marginalized groups.”

I acknowledge that secondary sources are not an ideal way to capture the platforms of candidates. There is the potential for bias on behalf of student newspapers, especially when it manifests in censorship or the undue stressing of a relatively minor tenet. This issue has been somewhat mitigated by using multiple sources, but it will not disappear entirely.

The platforms of candidates sometimes change, and one could not expect to capture all the nuances of a platform in a spreadsheet. That being said, I was surprised while reading the platforms at how easily the candidates’ ideas could be collapsed into a select few phrases. It seems there has been a consistent use of one-word values – take our trio of sustainability, accountability, and communication – without elaboration. 

Results 

In ten years, there have been 25 presidential candidates, meaning each election has had an average of 2.5 students running for president of the union.

There are 99 tenets in total. Some are quite specific, such as “restore McGill’s institutional reputation” (2014, Johnson) and “group therapy sessions” (2016, Ger). Others seem like peculiar strategies: I think of the mySSMU app proposal from Darshan Daryanani (2021), or the 2015 candidate Alexei Simakov, who said to the Daily that rather than politics, he wants to focus on issues that have broad student support, such as how cold the McLennan Library is. (Another gem from Simakov: “I’m not someone who’s been engaged with student government at any point, I’ve always been the opposition.”)

The values that come to the forefront during presidential campaigns are markers of broader issues on campus. For instance, two out of the four mentions of a proposed sexual violence policy  take place in 2017, following the allegations against the 2016 VP External. This increase in attention can also be seen in action; in 2018, SSMU hired a sexual violence policy project coordinator and created the Gendered and Sexual Violence Policy (GSVP). On the other hand, it is disheartening to note that the creation of a sexual violence policy was proposed as early as 2015. The candidate who proposed the policy lost, and the lack of a sexual violence policy presumably contributed to SSMU’s inaction after the allegations. This year, presidential candidate Alexandre Ashkir aims to expand the grocery program, and candidates for other SSMU positions have similarly voiced concerns about food insecurity, a hot-button issue on campus spearheaded by Let’s Eat McGill. 

It’s obvious that 2016–17 was an especially tense year from reading the 2017 candidates’ platforms. Tojiboeva started by acknowledging student distrust, Ogendeji’s platform centered on “rebuilding trust,” and Shannon wanted to introduce more opportunities for students to voice their concerns.

One key takeaway from the timeline of the three most common platform promises is that they don’t follow a linear path. That being said, we see sharp increases in concern over accountability in 2019 and 2020, with every single candidate mentioning accountability. I hypothesize that this is in part due to controversies surrounding a free trip to Israel offered to SSMU executives and a failed General Assembly. Communication falls in favour slightly over 2015 to 2022, perhaps due to its vagueness. Sustainability is in a recent upward trend since 2018, and might be resurfacing in popularity due to increasing interest in environmental  sustainability.  Now, we take a look at the less popular, but perhaps more telling,  values.

Here, we see the partial success of the fall reading week promise, and we can track the advocacy work toward it; fall reading week is mentioned in 2018, 2019, and 2020. The three consecutive years of effort accentuate the inability of SSMU presidents to achieve concrete action within their one-year terms. They also suggest that candidates often borrow from previous candidates’ platforms, perhaps because they are aware that certain issues were important to previous voters. 

Even when participation in the SSMU end-of-year elections was higher, attendance at general assemblies (GAs) was a concern for candidates, first being mentioned by unsuccessful candidate Chris Bangs in 2013. Interestingly, the winner, Katie Larson, held a staunchly opposing stance. She did not plan to modify the structures of either the GA or of SSMU itself, and she was decidedly apolitical. Perhaps students saw her as a more realistic candidate than the Divest McGill activist Bangs, or they didn’t see GA participation as important to campus life. 

Concern for marginalized groups has seen a consistent increase over time. This is perhaps unsurprising, as issues of racism, sexism, and queerphobia have broken into mainstream discourse. We can also track the slow creation of the sexual violence policy over the years. Funnily enough, there is one mention of interest in a sexual violence policy after the sexual violence policy was created in 2017. 

How does a candidate’s platform correlate with their success at the polls? Considering that there have been ten winners, I filtered the successful candidates from the rest and reran the program. Unsurprisingly, similar values rose to the top.

Sustainability, accountability, and communication are over-represented in the winning faction (3/10 compared to 3/15), while prioritizing office hours is less popular among winners (1/10 compared to 3/15). Half of politically neutral candidates win their campaigns.  The first mention of it came from Larson in 2013 (won), then Simakov in 2015 (lost), then Sinder in 2016 (lost), and then Mansdoerfer in 2018 (won). 

 Perhaps most notably, all candidates to mention fall reading week won their campaigns, highlighting the chokehold the issue had on McGillians’ hearts (while also being a concrete and feasible goal). 

Conclusion

This year’s SSMU presidential election is different from any of the previous elections analyzed. We have no choice between platforms and only one voice to define the upcoming academic year. For the first time since SSMU Elections has kept accessible records on election results, a presidential candidate is running unopposed.

Although the results of previous elections reveal a steady stream of nearly identical, often one-worded campaign promises, and although the repetition of these platforms suggests that SSMU presidents are not entirely able to deliver on their assurances, a diversity of voices is essential to a functioning democratic student society.

2022 saw the lowest voter turnout since SSMU election turnout was recorded in the elections archive in 2012. The turnout was only 12.9 per cent of students voting. The 2023/2024 presidential candidate running unopposed is the most recent symptom of mistrust in and apathy toward SSMU. We can’t fault students: SSMU’s rocky history, evidenced by its inaction, by executive missteps, and by a lack of diversity in candidate platforms, creates a (perhaps not incorrect) impression that voting is merely an illusion of choice. A deeper dive into issues of student governance which lead to student apathy can be found in clumsy voting portals, insufficient training for incoming executives, and unpaid labor are some of the factors causing students to give up on SSMU. 

Student participation is mentioned as a platform in three of the campaigns I looked at, engagement in two more. GA engagement is also mentioned twice. It is disheartening to realize that these were central platforms even in times of higher participation and engagement. 

Future Work

This sort of analysis is ripe with potential. The main concern is the small sample size; a sample of ten is not large enough to conduct most statistical inquiries, such as whether any platforms are able to predict the success of a candidate. 

While I’m not qualified to try to solve the incredibly complex issue of voter apathy, I suggest that more concrete platforms, along with recognition of multi-year projects and an attention to our student government history, are essential in rebuilding trust in SSMU.  

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Woo’s Early Years in Montreal 

The second son in a well-off family, Willie Woo (also known as William Woo, Woo Ching-Kooi, or Hu Zhengqu) was born on February 26, 1912 in Montreal. His  grandfather left Enping, Canton in the second half of the nineteenth century when the state was still under Manchu rule, and made his first fortune in the Australian gold rush.  

Following in his grandfather’s footsteps, Woo’s father, Woo Chong Kee (Wu Changqi), later made his way to Melbourne to run a tea dealing business. He returned to China after a decade but soon decided to leave due to the numerous uprisings and the looming threat of Western imperialist powers. After a brief venture in California, Woo’s father decided to settle in Montreal at the turn of the century. Despite barely speaking English or French, Woo Chong Kee worked hard to hawk his tea and other goods to locals, and his effort paid off. Within a decade, he had set up his own store on Sainte-Catherine Street. 

Willie Woo grew up in the Golden Square Mile, enjoying a relatively happy childhood compared to his father’s generation. At the age of 11, Woo became a member of the YMCA, the key promoter of basketball worldwide. By his teenage years, his exceptional sports talent became clear. In the 1929-30 season, he  was selected by the Montreal Central YMCA (Central Y) to play for the national junior basketball championship and led the team to the Eastern quarterfinals. Despite the team’s loss, The Montreal Gazette recognized him as the “most effective player [in the team]” and highlighted him as a “Chinese star.” Woo remained one of the most prolific scorers for the Central Y in the next two seasons and led the team to the Quebec finals in the 31-32 season of the premier men’s championship. 

Although basketball was the sport for which Woo was best known, he also  demonstrated remarkable athletic ability in American football. While attending Montreal High School, he stood out as a talented player and was once referred to as a “stellar quarte[rb]ack” by local media. When Woo turned 18 in 1930, he served as the captain of  the Montreal Westwards, the city’s football team at the time. 

Becoming a McGillian 

In Fall 1932, Woo entered McGill University and soon became an active participant in university sports. His previous experiences made him a player that “shows considerable promise,” as The McGill Daily put it, earning him the position of quarterback on the McGill freshman football team.  

In addition, Woo continued to stun sports fans both on and off-campus with his exceptional performance in his top sport, basketball. As an Arts student at McGill, he played for the Arts I team in the Interfaculty basketball league in 1932, impressing a commentator of the Daily with his “usual brilliant play” as a “stellar wingman.” Outside McGill, Woo shifted his loyalty from Central Y to play for the Montreal Notre-Dame-de-Grace Community Team. Despite the team’s 96-46 loss in the 1932-1933 Eastern finals,  Woo still “drew merited applause from the crowd” as a skilled forward. 

Apart from football and basketball, Woo’s talents extended to ice hockey and  softball/baseball. As a “hefty defenseman” for the McGill ice hockey team, he helped  McGill defeat the Loyola team in the Junior Amateur Hockey Association’s 1932 championship. He also played both infield and outfield positions in baseball and  softball. 

Across the early 1930s, Woo’s incredible athleticism across multiple sports resulted in frequent appearances  in the sports sections of Canadian newspapers like The Montreal Gazette, The Montreal Daily Star, and The Windsor Stars. Woo was so athletically versatile that the Canadian media gave him the title of an “all-round athlete.” He was the first Chinese athlete in Canada to achieve such a high level of success and renown. 

In contrast to the copious amount of information about his life on the sports fields,  little is known of Woo’s academic life at McGill, save that he once studied Chinese with Professor Kiang Kang-hu (Jiang Kanghu, 1883-1954), a renowned yet controversial Sinologist and chair of the newly founded department of Chinese studies. Woo’s brief acquaintance with Kiang would be a turning point in his life. 

“Back” to China 

     Just as Woo’s athletic career was on the rise, it was brought to a sudden halt in 1933. According to a news report in The Brandon Daily Sun, Woo’s father, blind, elderly, and suffering from the grief of losing his wife, decided to spend his last days back in his hometown, Canton. This decision resulted from advice from his doctor to move to a warmer climate and encouragement from Professor Kiang to “find his roots at the ancestral home.” Accompanying him was none other than his son, Wille Woo, who had just finished his freshman year at McGill.  

Not surprisingly, this plan was met with strong opposition from the young  Willie Woo, who by then had spent over two decades in Montreal. But eventually, Woo conformed to his father’s wish on the condition that he would stay in China for no more than six months. 

News of Woo’s impending departure soon covered the pages of Canadian  newspapers. Following his final game for Westwards in November 1933,  Woo embarked on a journey across the Pacific Ocean to China, a land in which he had never before set foot. 

Woo first sailed to Hong Kong, and then traveled to Shanghai. In China, he was  welcomed with open arms. Woo’s success in the Canadian sports scene was viewed as an honour to Chinese people, who were often typecast as physically weak and not valuing physical education. His “homecoming” thus took on a nationalistic hue (figure 3). As a  commentator of the Chinese newspaper The China Times (Shishi xin bao) wrote: 

“Given that the situation in China is becoming worse and worse, the crux of the problem lies in the debility and weakness of our citizens […] With his excellent athletic skills, [Mr. Woo] is to generously serve Chinese  sports upon his return to the country and train budding young athletes, in hope of  washing away the humiliation of ‘The Sick Man of Asia’. His ambition is indeed  admirable!” 

Bringing with him some prior coaching experience from Canada, Woo quickly established himself as a highly sought-after coach among universities and institutions in China. In February 1934, he was recruited by the Liangjiang Women’s Sport Institute in Shanghai as a general physical education teacher. Upon his arrival, the school principal, Lu Lihua, held a welcome party for Woo, anticipating that he would bring about changes to the school’s sports teams.  

Woo proved to be not only a talented athlete, but an excellent coach as well. His tutelage enabled the sports teams at Liangjiang school to progress rapidly, achieving remarkable results in a variety of sports. With only two months of training, the Liangjiang softball team was able to defeat a high school team from the United States in a friendly competition. Moreover with Woo serving as coach, the Liangjiang basketball team made history. During the team’s three-and-a-half-month tour of five Southeast Asian countries starting in February 1935, it achieved an unprecedented winning streak, dominating its 28 games against other local women’s basketball teams by wide margins. The Liangjiang team also won six victories in twelve games played against local male teams.

This was no small feat for a young all-female basketball team, whose country was  still mired in war and political turbulence. The young women’s victories left local  audiences awestruck, fueling Chinese people with a sense of  national pride while sensationalizing the entire sports scene in both China and around Southeast Asia. When the team returned to China in May, they were greeted as national heroes, hailed for their remarkable achievement and bringing glory to their country. Needless to say, Woo’s leadership and dedication as the head coach were crucial contributors to the team’s success. 

As a result of his impressive coaching accomplishments, Woo stayed in China for  a longer period than he had anticipated. In 1936, he moved to Hong Kong and began  coaching for the South China Athletic Association (SCAA, also known as Nanhua hui). The SCAA basketball team soon became another display of Woo’s aptitude in  coaching. In 1939, Woo led the team to a hard-fought triumph over the Sing Tao (Xingdao) basketball team, earning them the Hong Kong basketball championship that year. 

Over the following years, Woo worked as a physical education instructor, teaching  both English and sports in numerous institutions across Hong Kong and mainland China, notably Hong Kong University, Canton University, and Zhejiang  University. Despite his distance from North America, Woo maintained a connection with his hometown. He made regular trips to Canada during vacation periods, and in 1939 he even made a brief comeback in Montreal, playing for the city’s basketball team alongside his old friends (figure 1). 

“Back” to Montreal

The  late 1930s and early 1940s saw the steady growth of Woo’s reputation as an excellent coach within China’s sports circle. However, the Japanese invasion of mainland China and Hong Kong brought the nation into chaos and derailed Woo’s career. In August 1942, eight months after the Japanese occupation of Hong Kong, Woo fled the city to find refuge in the areas not under the heel of Japanese domination, which were collectively known as “Free China.” He lived amongst the masses under the shadow of war and was amazed by their determination to resist the enemy. While Woo’s life in “Free China” allowed him to  survive Japanese aggression during these years, it was by no means easy.  

On January 5, 1943, Woo’s  former  Central Y  teammate, Scotty Brotman, became  concerned by a letter from Woo that described the physical suffering and poverty he was facing. Not only was his health jeopardized by sunstroke, malaria, typhus, and malnutrition, but after losing nearly all his belongings, Woo could not afford to buy the clothes he needed.  

In response to his plight, a committee was set up on Woo’s behalf.  Affiliated with the Central Y and chaired by Brotman, the committee was tasked with devising solutions to Woo’s pressing needs. The Central Y established  the “Willie Woo fund,” created from the proceeds of several benefit basketball games held by the committee and a performance staged by Montreal High School. 

It was reported that Woo received around $350 in September of 1943, equivalent to $6000 today. Having endured various physical and mental afflictions, Woo eventually returned to his birthplace of Montreal in 1944. Perhaps a winding, if not adventurous, journey, Woo traveled via Kunming in Yunnan province, the Himalayan hump, Kolkata, Brisbane, and Los Angeles, all while dealing with his  declining health. 

Upon his arrival in Montreal, Woo picked up his previous profession as a basketball coach. For two years, he brought a remarkable improvement to the Sir George William College basketball team, the Georgians. In the 1944-45 season of the senior  men’s basketball championship, the Georgians went on to the Eastern finals (figure 2). Although the team was ultimately eliminated, Woo was delighted to see the achievements this local Montreal basketball had made. “We’ve come a long way in the playdowns,” Woo said after the Georgians’ victory in the Eastern semifinals in 1945. “[B]ut we won’t be satisfied until we return to Montreal with the title and let the rest of Canada know that Montreal also can produce prominent basketball clubs.” 

Residing at the intersection of different cultures, Woo always saw himself as a bridge builder, not only between Montreal sports and the rest of Canada but also  between Chinese and Canadians. Motivated by this perspective, Woo founded and  presided over the Chinese Athlete Club, one of the thirteen branches of The  International YMCA, in 1945 for the sake of “foster[ing] health-giving recreation for  Chinese youngsters in this area and to stimulate goodwill and understanding between  two races.” It was Woo’s conviction that sports, and basketball in particular, could  bridge the gaps between different races and cultures.  

Post-war Life in Hong Kong 

As the catastrophic war ended in China in summer 1945, Woo, inspired by the will of the Chinese people during his hazardous stay, saw a way to devote himself to rebuilding the country in the post-war period. In April 1946, Woo traveled back to China, and spent much of the rest of his professional life in Hong Kong, which was relatively impervious to the ensuing political upheavals in the mainland. 

In Hong Kong, Woo resumed his affiliation with SCAA, where he served as the coach for both the basketball and softball teams. He also assumed several administrative roles within Hong Kong’s sports circles, serving as the chair of the Hong Kong badminton, softball, and most importantly, basketball associations. 

As the main contributor to the post-war revival of softball in Hong Kong, Woo  acted as both a coach and an ambassador between Hong Kong and the West by  attending international softball conferences and hosting visiting softball teams from  other countries. 

As for basketball, with his rich experience and impressive track record, Woo was  once acclaimed as “the only best basketball coach in South China so far” by the Hong Kong newspaper Overseas Chinese Daily News (Wah Kiu Yat Po) in 1948. Woo proved himself worthy of this title, when his basketball team won three championships in the Hong Kong Basketball League in the 1950s (54-55,  57-58, and 59-60).  

Serving as the Chinese basketball team delegate for five Olympics and the representative for the SCAA and Hong Kong Basketball Association, Woo attended FIBA conferences in Rome in 1960 and in Tokyo in 1964. Through his frequent travels, Woo  recognized basketball’s potential for putting Hong Kong on the map and enhancing its global visibility. “People in the world knew little about Hong Kong in terms of  basketball,” said Woo after his return from Rome in 1960. “I hope one day Hong Kong can reach international competitions.” 

After retiring in the mid-1960s, Woo moved back to Canada, where he enjoyed a comfortable life and maintained his passion for sports by following NCAA basketball  games and hockey competitions. He returned occasionally to Hong Kong to catch up  with old friends and students, many of whom, including Shi Zhenda and Pan Kelian , had become established athletes. 

Chinese? Canadian? Or Montrealer? 

Like any second-generation immigrant or cultural wanderer in general, questions about Willie Woo’s identity were always present. He has been referred to in various  ways such as a “Chinese player [of the team],” “Canadian-born Chinese,” “ex-Montrealer,” and “former local athlete” by Canadian media, and “overseas Chinese”  (huaqiao) or “a member of the national community” (guomin yifenzi) by Chinese media.  To be sure, it is always tricky to say whether China was a place for Woo to “go” or  “return.” 

Having spent his formative years in Montreal, Woo identified himself more as a  Canadian in his youth: “I felt I was totally Canadian, except for the colo[ur] of my skin.” However, in an interview in the 1980s (figure 8), when explaining his rationale for spending most of his time in China, Woo reflected that “[as] much as I loved my boyhood in Montreal, I feel better being one of the majority.” 

To be sure, Woo’s Canadian culture never hindered his  commitment to fostering cross-cultural connections through sports. He utilized his ability and expertise in sports to build bridges between different cultures. He aided Chinese athletes in adapting to the local culture in Canada while introducing novel viewpoints and basketball tactics from abroad to China, using sports as a vehicle to increase China’s global exposure. Unlike George Orwell, who believed that sport “is bound up with hatred, jealousy, [and] boastfulness,” Woo dedicated the better half of his life to demonstrating its potential to promote mutual understanding.  

Woo passed away in Vancouver in March 1990 after battling cancer. In an obituary in The Gazette, Woo was hailed as “the first great Canadian-born Chinese athlete.”  Meanwhile, in Hong Kong, his contributions to the development of basketball were spotlighted in Overseas Chinese Daily News. As it is widely known that  basketball was invented by a McGillian, perhaps it is also worth remembering that another McGillian played an important role in the development of the sport in East Asia.

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Zach Cheung for the McGill Daily (MD): I imagine that writing a memoir is much like having a conversation with yourself. But as much as you have to listen to yourself, I can imagine that there’s going to be a lot of outside noise. So I wanted to ask you, how much of the news — Bill 96, Bill 2, the lead-up to the provincial election — did you have to tune out?

Balarama Holness (BH): So the big thing about this memoir is that it’s not a political manifesto. This memoir is me opening myself up to the world in a very vulnerable way. It’s a way of exposing my life story from the way my parents met, to growing up in an ashram to arriving in Quebec, to finding myself through an identity crisis at a very young age, to living through referendums, to falling off track and finding myself once again through football, to then falling into a level of deep despair with the passing of my mother and then traveling abroad.

But when it comes to the important elements of politics and policy, the book more so explains why I care about these issues. It gives the reader an insight into why I do what I do. And from that perspective, even if Bill 96 never existed, the way that I was treated in the hallways during grade school is indicative of Bill 96. So there’s no surprise to me that Bill 96 has come into play or this linguistic fight continues to engulf the province because I’ve experienced this my whole life. So there was no sense of tuning out the outside noise, but more sense of rediscovering. It’s a conversation with yourself, but when you’re analyzing and looking back to your childhood, you’re actually rediscovering elements of your life and finding common themes that you never even knew existed until you took the time to actually look and uncover, almost like an archaeological expedition into one’s life.

MD: How does the title of the book, Eyes on the Horizon, relate to how you stated that this memoir was an act of rediscovery?

BH: Yeah, Eyes on the Horizon, as a title, is interesting for multiple reasons. Number one, to give you a concrete example, when I announced the petition to require the city to have a conversation on racism, there was a lot of pushback. And because my eyes were on the horizon, I never really felt the negative influence of the people who were pushing back against you. Even when I was running for mayor of Montreal, all of the policies that I cared about were so important to me that my eyes were continuously moving forward. The immediate pushback, whether it was from the media or from critics, was water off my back because my eyes were on the horizon, the vision being so crystal clear that I didn’t care about the immediate road bumps in front of me.

MD: You say in the book: “If you want to go fast, go alone; if you want to go far, go together.” Was there a single moment in time when you realized the need to organize collectively?

BH: Yeah, there’s this kind of conundrum between individualism and collective organization. I’ve always been an individual because I grew up solo. I had to survive individually if I wanted to be able to be able to function in this community without my parents. But you also have to understand that in the community organization realm and even politics, you need to be able to mobilize a collective. You cannot do it alone. And whether it’s the 22,000 signatures to require the city to have a consultation, or whether it’s Mouvement Montréal or Bloc Montréal, these are all done with a collective of people from all different backgrounds, faiths, ethnicities, skills, and careers. That’s what makes it enriching, and it’s something I’m very proud of.

And when you look at what we built in terms of Mouvement Montréal, a political party that is a true reflection of Canada, of Quebec, of Montreal — that is what parliament should look like. That is what the National Assembly should look like. The policies, more importantly, that we were invoking are what should be reflected in our democratic society, in our view. So it’s not just about the aesthetics of diversity, but it’s about the substance of the policies that’s critically important and that we’re still waiting to have come to fruition. And that’s why the journey continues.

MD: You often mention that education is a source of political empowerment. How do you think activists should use their education to hold institutions accountable?

BH: It’s not just about activists, it’s about minorities at large. And it’s not just about education equating to higher socioeconomic statuses; immigrants and minorities do have equal, if not higher, levels of education but income is not always connected to that because of employment discrimination and other factors. Education should be a way to free yourself from the shackles of desire in this material world and to empower yourself and your consciousness. So it’s not just a question of activists, but it’s anyone who feels as though they’re marginalized or oppressed. It’s that love and that passion for education. It could be through a book, it could be through travel, it could be through conversations, it could be through conscientious awareness and developing that with other people. That is what’s going to emancipate the oppressed from the oppressor, as opposed to simply viewing education as an economic means for uplifting oneself.

MD: What do you see in the future of both Bloc Montréal and Mouvement Montréal?

BH: Well, the next generation plays a large role in continuing the journey. And it’s my job now to stay on the front lines to instruct and guide the next change makers, to ensure a vision beyond politics: a vision of human dignity based on quality access. Similar to the green spaces that I grew up in — obviously we can’t recreate the Appalachian Mountains here in Montreal — we want green spaces in these low income neighborhoods. The sports centers that I used as harbour when I had fallen off track, I want those same sports centers for the next generation right here in Montreal. The same opportunities I had as a leader in a political party, I would hope for proper education to instruct the next generation of changemakers to be leaders in their own perspective, whether it’s in tech, finance, or arts, whatever it may be. All the things that allowed me to be the person I am today, I hope that we can provide the same resources and infrastructure to the next generation so they could thrive and meet their fullest potential.

MD: There is a chapter in your memoir where you recount your travels. You mentioned in specific that you resonated with the idea of “investing in people rather than soldiers” when you learned that Costa Rica did not have a standing army. Does this have any parallels to what Bloc Montréal and Mouvement Montréal stand for?

BH: Yeah, 100%. I was very reticent to include in the book the fact that I distributed marijuana when I was younger. But the reason why I decided to put that in was because it shows that through investing in coaches, sports centers, mentors, and teachers, a productive member of society is able to influence society in a positive way. It’s proof that if we actually go into these neighbourhoods and provide quality services to people, to youth, that great things can come from that. And still, we continue to fight dejected youth with handcuffs as opposed to giving them pens, computers, and footballs.

So imagine if that police officer, when he handcuffed me because I was smoking marijuana, gave me a criminal record and wrote me up — my whole life would have been ruined. But a coach gave me a football, and a teacher gave me access to the computer lab at the University of Ottawa, and the rest is history. And it is my firm belief that the political class, whether it’s the municipal, provincial or federal government, understands very clearly what it would take to guide and instruct minority youth. The reason why there’s no support center in Montreal North, and I mentioned it quite often in the book, is not because there’s no money for the support centers. We live in a G7 country, we have the money. The reason why they don’t is because of explicit and implicit bias, prejudice, and hate towards these communities. For me, if there’s one point in the book that comes up time and time again, it’s that sports center that changed my life. And I think that similar opportunities can help a lot of kids in Montreal North.

MD: Is there anything you learned about yourself when writing this memoir?

BH: Well, it kind of reaffirmed within myself that if an individual, a party, or an institution is not going to offer me the same dignity as the next person, all hell will break loose. In my youth, all hell used to break loose with my fists. And that got transformed into a positive rebellion that is exemplified through community organization, politics, and law. But if I’m challenged, discriminated against, or disrespected, and I see that other people around me are experiencing similar things, we’ll all come together with proverbial pitchforks and torches, and we’ll come for you. And that’s what we’ve done. And we’ve turned it into a positive march. Empowered through my legal and educational training, that’s why I continue to be inspired.

MD: In leading this “positive rebellion,” did you feel like a political agitator when you entered the political scene?

BH: I didn’t talk a lot about this in the book, but I think that why we may have been seen as more agitators than we potentially should have been is because democracy is not open and equitable. We had to fight to get on debate stages. The Chamber of Commerce didn’t invite us on the debate stage. Culture Montreal didn’t invite us. Radio Canada, a public institution, didn’t invite us on the debate stage. Tout Le Monde En Parle didn’t invite us onto their show. When we would send out press releases on our economic policy, it wouldn’t get covered. When we sent out a press release on a cultural general policy, it wouldn’t get covered. The media was extremely biased and it was hard for us to pierce through the Coderre/Plante battle. That’s where this idea of “rebellion” came from.

So what we had to do, in which we probably looked more like agitators than we would like, is that we had to fight back against the media and give them content. That would actually make them publish it, as opposed to us being able on face value, just to publish our platform and to get news based on that. So, we were not there to just agitate, but we were there to get candidates elected.

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