So now the Canadian Union of Public Employees Ontario University Workers Coordinating Committee wants to boycott Israel... again. According to CUPE Ontario president Sid Ryan, "In response to an appeal from the Palestinian Federation of Unions of University Professors and Employees, we are ready to say Israeli academics should not be on our campuses unless they explicitly condemn the university bombing and the assault on Gaza in general." And do they also want to boycott Palestinians unless they explicitly condemn terror attacks? No see when you fire rockets at Jewish kindergartens it um uh that is to say...
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As we prepare for a quintessentially Canadian celebration of our national holiday, hoping the long weekend traffic is not made intolerable by native blockades, I seek reasons to wave a flag. I’ve settled on the national beer glass being well over half full. I know, I know. “It could be much worse” is a quintessentially Canadian rallying cry. I would like to be more positive. But I cannot do a Maple Leaf Forever kind of column, not least because that aspect of our heritage is not exactly popular with the smart set. Americans generally lay aside their grievances on the 4th of July because they regard their history as fundamentally glorious. But here the official view is quite different. Our statesmen were bigots, our industrialists rapacious, our scholars hegemonist, our soldiers war criminals, and our past a shabby nightmare from which we are only now awakening.
As a typical article in the History Society magazine The Beaver grumped a few years back, “Expo ’67 promoted a narrow notion of Canada suggested by the title of the world fair — Man and His World — a place where white, Western, and well-heeled values were paramount. But Expo was a last gasp for a Canadian identity that marginalized the voices of women, Québécois, aboriginal peoples, and new Canadians, even while it celebrated world culture.” Who doesn’t feel like setting off a few fireworks after reading that passage?
I also cannot pick up a Pearson Pennant and go rah rah for the next 500 words because if you look back at the optimistic mood at Expo ’67 it’s clear they didn’t think we’d end up here. I don’t just mean no geodesic domes. Our politics are shabby, our lives frantic, our material possessions conspicuously failing to buy us happiness. Mind you, a Maclean’s retrospective just quoted Montreal writer Hugh Hood, at Expo ’67, that, “It’s too much, baby; it’s something else, total environment, Romantic synaesthesia, the way things are.” So arguably our clichés haven’t gotten worse since, just differently bad.
Be that as it may, we cannot be sanguine about the state of our country. At the superficial level of policy, we cling to the doomed Canada Health Act while chronically underfunding defence, infrastructure and just about every other legitimate core function of government. The way we debate policy is also depressing, favouring novelty over experience, computer models over historical facts, and abuse over discussion. And the whole rickety structure rests on the sand of “value systems,” not the rock of morality.
Hang on, though. There remains much to celebrate. Starting with the fact that I can say such stuff without fear. In Canada journalists can publicly ask ministers of the crown questions such as, “Why are you making a policy announcement in a supermarket bakery?” and not promptly retire out a fifth-storey window. Here we discuss our differences, even yell about them, instead of slaughtering one another.
When the British government knighted Salman Rushdie two weeks ago, I just muttered “Arise, Sir Badwrite.” Whereas Pakistan’s religious affairs minister (be glad we don’t have one of those, by the way) said: “The West always wonders about the root cause of terrorism. Such actions are the root cause of it. If someone commits suicide bombing to protect the honour of the Prophet Mohammad, his act is justified.” If you’re looking for root causes of terror, try willingness to kill people whose opinions you dislike. But don’t blame us.
Like anyone who reads newspapers, I am subjected to an almost daily torrent of criticism, often insulting in tone, of things I cherish.
But in Canada we don’t blow up over them, at least not literally. We debate and argue and sulk and denounce and question and rally and go home and drink beer. We get things wrong in ways small and large then bicker some more and patch them up. But we don’t come to blows. (I write this trusting that no one will mark today’s aboriginal National Day of Action with acts of conspicuous stupidity, viciousness or both.)
We are not perfect, and neither are our results. Our governments lie, cheat and pass laws that infringe fundamental freedoms in ways both silly and consequential. We suffer historical injustices, breakdowns of civility, and attacks of idiocy. But through it all we cling to, and live by, the conviction that free inquiry brings us closer to factual and moral truth than any other system, by a large enough margin to matter enormously.
We could do far, far worse, and we should remember and build on that. Canada remains a free country despite all the scoffing that phrase tends to elicit. I can even wave a Red Ensign while saying it. I sure plan to. And drink at least half a beer.
[First published in the Ottawa Citizen]
The University of Ottawa has decided to stop issuing diplomas in Latin because it’s like not cool and hard to translate. Sic transit, I am tempted to say. But people might think I was talking about a Punjabi bus company, so I’d better settle for “whatever.” The Citizen says U of O had previously allowed students to get a diploma in Latin, English or French, and only five per cent (from the Latin per centum) chose the language of Cicero. Would it be snide to suggest that as an educational institution, the University of Ottawa had other options when faced with what the news story referred to as “declining student interest” in having Latin on their diplomas? Like making an ancient language compulsory. Or explaining to students that there are occasions, such as graduating from a prestigious institution of higher learning in the nation’s capital, that call for a degree of, you know, solemnity.
Regiments, universities and the Order of Canada have Latin mottos precisely because there are moments when we should rise above the mundane (from mundanus, worldly). And curiously enough, the motto of the University of Ottawa, right there on its coat of arms, is Deus Scientiarum Dominus Est (“God is the Lord of the Sciences”), which, times being what they are, you might not want people to understand lest it provoke a court case. Mind you, at hockey games and political events we cheerfully sing “Car ton bras sait porter l’épée/ Il sait porter la croix!” without turning into George W. Bush, so the habit of not thinking about what we’re saying may be sufficiently entrenched to relieve us of any legal worries.
Culturally it’s another story. I want to tell students there are moments for a backwards hat and moments for a mortarboard. At least, there are moments for a mortarboard. Instead all we have is backward hats. (Or is semi-sideways now the cool thing?) But then, I’m so old that when I graduated the chancellor did not high-five me.
I value the antiquity of Latin precisely because the Romans did not confuse novelty with improvement. Many, indeed, were deeply concerned about the decay of their institutions of self-government, whereas I just heard a Canadian legislator justify banning spanking, despite massive public opposition, by citing something even more unpopular that our government had imposed on us (women in combat). Don’t mention vox populi to him, I guess. The next day I read of psychiatrists prescribing buckets-full of antipsychotic drugs to children as young as three for problems including “poor frustration tolerance.” After we renounced more traditional forms of discipline. Or do I commit a post hoc fallacy?
OK, so I’m reactionary. But I think Latin imparts a modicum of class to matriculation from an educational institution. And I would assign students (from studeo studere, “to be eager, take pains, strive after”) the task of determining how many words in that sentence have Latin roots before sweeping it all aside like Vandals.
Speaking of Latin roots, the U of O justified its decision partly on the basis that there aren’t Latin words for “software” or “genomics.” Which would be funny if it weren’t sad, given where most of our scientific terminology comes from (like the wonderful ursus horribilis for the grizzly bear). So how hard is it to come up with, say, “programmum” for an individual program and “programma” for software in general? (Maybe harder than you think; as I noted a few years back, the Vatican’s new Latin dictionary incomprehensibly translated “computer” as instrumentum computatorium even though computer (-eris) would be a perfectly normal third-declension masculine noun, and easy to remember.)
Mind you, “program” comes originally from Greek, and I am tempted to say Zeus save us if we ask kids to learn another alphabet. Except if they’re doing math and science, I trust they already know about deltas and stuff. But if we need to keep it real simple, my dictionary says the Latin for “program” is libellus and I can think of a lot of worse titles than Doctor libellorum. Including ignoramus. Thus while genomics also comes from Greek, the Romans were not shy about borrowing Greek knowledge, so why not genomix (-icis)? It’s even pronounced the same way.
If that’s too much for you, isn’t diploma (-atis) an actual Latin word? Better start handing out like paper “done good” thingies. Plus this decision was taken by the University “senate,” an institution as well as a word derived from ancient Rome. And taken “unanimously,” which … et sequitur ad nauseam.
Tradition would have me wind up with a cry of O tempora o mores. Instead, I’m stuck with Quicunque, homo.
[First published in the Ottawa Citizen]
Marshall McLuhan once said people don’t read the morning paper, they slip into it like a warm bath. I doubt the recent Citizen series on parking tickets had that effect. But modern political documents certainly aim to. Take Ontario Progressive Conservative leader John Tory’s health plan. Please. Even if you didn’t read it you probably feel vaguely as if you had. And if I quote it, you’ll get that familiar, drowsy feeling, starting with the contrived quotation (in the “Policy Update” on the Ontario PC party website) that: “‘When I think about our health care system, I don’t think of it with the perspective of a politician. I think of it as a father, a son, a husband and a patient myself,” said Tory. “I don’t think about dollars and equipment, but of patients and providers. I believe we can manage our system better, we can eliminate waste and we can drive dollars to patient care.”
Soporific, yet offensive drivel. For one thing, why doesn’t he think about health care as a politician? He is one, no? As a father, son, husband and patient, he might reasonably just write to his MPP demanding detailed practical solutions. As a politician, he must do better. He must offer them, starting with a frank analysis of what’s wrong with how it’s been managed so far.
Instead, predictably, “A John Tory PC Government will improve health care in Ontario following four specific principles and guided by a strong commitment to the Canada Health Act and its commitment to a universally accessible, publicly funded health-care system. The four principles are: 1. Timely, universal access/ 2. The need for significant, reliable, responsible growth in healthcare spending/ 3. The constant search for ways to improve care/ 4. Respect for patients and respect for health-care providers.”
Zzzzzzzzz. These principles could mean anything, but probably don’t. They aren’t a guide to what Mr. Tory thinks he should do, plans to do or actually will do if elected. They are at best a description of a plan he hasn’t got but wishes he did. I especially like No. 2, separating the mutually exclusive promises of “significant” and “responsible” spending growth with one word of padding to keep them from smashing into one another. He should be telling us why frantic spending increases by the McGuinty Liberals, and Harris Tories before them, didn’t make waiting lists go away, not just positioning himself to stress “responsible” to fiscally conservative audiences and “significant” to socially liberal ones.
Then there’s the pledge: “We will oppose two-tier medicine” followed by “We will ensure that, under a John Tory PC Government, the only card Ontario patients will need to get the very best care available is their OHIP card – not a credit card” and “We will ensure that universality is real; without access to a family physician, there can be no universal access.”
Really? I’ve had two significant contacts with hospital care in Ontario recently and both times was immediately asked for a credit card if I wanted any privacy for the patient. So will Mr. Tory (a) require private rooms for all hospital patients without charge; (b) forbid charging for private rooms; (c) pass a law that privacy is neither medically nor psychologically important so it doesn’t matter? If (a), does he plan to build lots of new hospitals? If (b), to allocate private rooms by lottery, political pull, or severity of illness, or get rid of them by putting extra beds in every room? If (c) ... but never mind. We could explore these options in some detail, or ask where he plans to get enough family doctors that everyone can have one, but you know as well as I do that there is no point because Mr. Tory’s plan is not of this sort. It is, instead, the familiar idea to sound good, get elected, then magically make things better because we care more than our awful opponents.
Oh yeah, and how will it all be paid for? Economic growth and a war on waste. Again. It has been every party’s plan for decades and it hasn’t worked, but in this business that’s not a reason not to say it again. Quite the reverse. There is nothing in Mr. Tory’s plan to suggest it comes from a conservative or any other political party because we don’t really have those any more. We have one platform and one party, tailored to attract the votes of the suburban middle class without regard to the practicality or moral desirability of the same inevitable “policies” recited in the same inevitable soothingly vacuous way. That’s why it doesn’t matter if we elect Dalton Tory or John McGuinty.
What matters is that we get out of the tub before we doze off and drown.
[First published in the Ottawa Citizen]
“Don't prorogue! Don't prorogue!” Believe it not, I was about ready to join Phil Fontaine, Gerry Barr and David Suzuki on the barricades under this singularly obscure slogan. Until I discovered that once again, the appropriate banner in Canada's capital these days is “Can't anybody here play this game?” The story starts with my rushing to attend a joint press conference on Tuesday by the national chief of the Assembly of First Nations, the chair of Make Poverty History, and the environmentalist world-famous in Canada. When I realized the three of them were incensed about a technical issue of parliamentary procedure I could not contain my enthusiasm. It's just the kind of guy I am. Always living on the edge.
Of narcolepsy, arguably. But never mind. Our governmental structures are collapsing and I've got a bit of time for anyone who cares. So there I was, listening to Mr. Fontaine, Mr. Barr and Mr. Suzuki, deep in the bowels of the Centre Block, complaining that three bills they considered important were about to be squashed by an obscure parliamentary manoeuvre. Specifically, three private members' bills: Bill C-292, the Kelowna Accord Implementation Act; Bill C-288, the Kyoto Protocol Implementation Act; and Bill C-293, the Development Assistance Accountability Act. All three have passed the House of Commons and are likely to pass the Senate unless, they said, Parliament was “prorogued” for the summer.
For those of you with lives, I should explain that when Parliament “adjourns,” politicians just put down all the paper, go back to the riding for the summer and come back in the fall to resume where they left off. If, instead, it is “prorogued,” when they return a Throne Speech kicks off a new “session” with a clean slate. (Most drastically, if Parliament is “dissolved,” an election is held.) While I don't actually support C-288, C-292 or C-293, for reasons not germane to the issue at hand, I'd rather see a bill I dislike pass than watch procedural jiggery-pokery further undermine self-government in Canada.
I feel very strongly on that point because our parliamentary system is in serious disrepair. I'm not even sure we have a government at the moment. We live in a parliamentary, not a presidential, system, so we do not elect someone to the office of prime minister whose powers he or she enjoys until the next election regardless of what happens in the legislature. The prime minister is the leader of the group of MPs that can pass money bills and win other confidence measures in Parliament, no more and no less. On which grounds the inability of the Tories to stop bills C-288, C-292 and C-293 raises serious questions about whether they really are “the government.” I think it is wrong for the Tories to cling to the shadow of power without its substance, and equally wrong for the Liberals, NDP and Bloc to seek the fun of legislating without accepting the responsibilities of governing. And I consider it the duty of the governor general to reject any procedural request that would prolong this mess. Even if it means we must have an election because no one enjoys the confidence of the House.
Obscure stuff, you may cry. And in some ways, it is. But it is how parliamentary self-government works so it ought to command our attention. You have to follow the rules if there is to be rule of law, and to follow them, you have to understand them.
Here I blow my procedural top completely. For an astute friend alerted me, in mid-draft of an angry protest column about prorogation, that the standing orders of Parliament were changed so that prorogation no longer kills private members' bills. Ten years ago.
Everybody says they want to give backbenchers more power, especially everybody in opposition. Astoundingly, someone actually did it. In November 1998, the standing orders were changed so that private members' bills, unlike government bills, no longer die if Parliament is prorogued. They stay right where they are.
I didn't know that. I certainly should have, given what I do for a living. My friend, who does not seek the limelight so I name no names, saved me from much worse embarrassment by spotting the error. But what is the excuse of Mr. Fontaine, Mr. Barr and Mr. Suzuki? I do not normally find myself in solidarity with them, but I try to be fair about public matters, and when I thought they were morally right I was prepared to deliver myself of a strongly worded opinion to that effect. Instead, I find that they were factually wrong.
They said proroguing would necessarily mean that these bills would either be lost or badly delayed, and that's not true.
Let's all chant it together: Can't anybody here play this game?
[First published in the Ottawa Citizen]
Suppose that somewhere in the world a repressive regime was not merely slaughtering practitioners of a peaceful religion but selling their organs. Should we try to do something? Besides ignoring it because they’re good trading partners, I mean? The answer is not as obvious as it might seem. We may be unable to intervene in the internal affairs of other countries even when they need it very badly. But we cannot avoid the issue; there are credible accusations that China is not only harassing and imprisoning practitioners of Falun Gong, but murdering them and then harvesting their corneas, kidneys and other organs for sale to those needing transplants.
I know it sounds too horrible to be true, and maybe it isn’t true. But the past century taught us that nothing is too horrible to be true. And respected former Canadian MP David Kilgour and B’nai Brith senior counsel David Matas have produced enough evidence (see their report at organharvestinvestigation.net/ report0701/report20070131-eng.pdf) to command our attention.
Or so you’d think. But when I checked out the Falun Gong protest this Monday against the official visit to Canada of Chinese commerce minister Bo Xilai, I found nobody there but Falun Gong practitioners. No press, no activists, no politicians. What’s going on? A few voices have been raised; on Wednesday, Ottawa rabbi Reuven Bulka and others called for a boycott of the Beijing Olympics. This newspaper has had stories, editorial commentary and a column by Donna Jacobs. But with a few other noble exceptions, there has been silence. Where is Amnesty International or the NDP?
It is, of course, possible to deny that China is repressive, let alone guilty of such atrocities. As did a May 28 Citizen letter to the editor of exactly the oleaginous sort habitually penned by diplomats from tyrannical regimes. But the rest of us know about Tiananmen Square, the lao gai (China’s gulag) and much else besides. Pretending we don’t is no solution.
Granting that China is repressive does not automatically mean we should try to do something about it. For starters, if you believe governments derive their legitimate powers from the consent of the governed, then our government only has the right to interfere in the domestic affairs of China, however horrendous, if we citizens of Canada delegate that right to it. Which we can only do if we possess it.
Maybe we do. We clearly do not have the permission of the inhabitants of China to arrange their affairs for them on an ongoing basis. But if we are at bottom our brother’s keepers, then when things are sufficiently horrible we might have the right, even the duty, to try to help. Also, because historically tyrannies have proved more aggressive than democracies, our undoubted right of self-defence may authorize us to act against foreign repression.
In either event, we could then delegate those rights to our government. But granting that we have the right to intervene does not mean it would necessarily be prudent to try. If we lack the power to overthrow tyrants or bring them to heel, empty threats and ineffective blows may simply provoke them into even greater belligerence, repression or both.
As Richard Nixon was rightly wont to stress, trying to frustrate a tyrant’s foreign policy goals rarely directly threatens his regime; targeting his domestic political arrangements necessarily does. And he will respond accordingly.
These are serious issues deserving serious discussion. Far more serious, indeed, than they have received. The sophisticated columnists recently hectoring the Harper government for irritating the Chinese over human rights at the expense of trade did not then praise the government for welcoming Minister Bo. They ignored the visit. As far as I can tell, only CanWest newspapers, including this one, even ran news stories about his being served with legal papers over his alleged role in repression.
I repeat that it is not entirely obvious what should have been said or done. Can one refuse to have commercial dealings with a repressive regime? How repressive must it be? Does prudence require circumspection if the regime is powerful? Should we boycott the 2008 Olympics? Throw out the ambassador? Close down the state-sponsored Confucius Institutes sprouting in Canadian academic organizations? Or merely insist quietly that Beijing not send particularly provocative visitors on official business?
All these are important questions. I have warned and still warn against facile attempts to remake the world. But I am flabbergasted that people would studiously ignore the issue, or say it doesn’t matter if money is soaked in blood provided there’s a big enough pile of it.
[First published in the Ottawa Citizen]