On September 20 Premier John Horgan of British Columbia asked the Lieutenant Governor to dissolve the provincial legislature and call a general provincial election for October 24, 2020, approximately one year earlier than is required by law. She granted his request and the election is on. And just to be clear, the election was not “forced” in some sense. Aside from there being another year left in the mandate, the government’s control of the legislature was assured by the support of independent Andrew Weaver and the continuing agreement between the Greens and the government that guaranteed Green support for the government on all matters of confidence until the next election.

Since calling the election Premier Horgan and his NDP MLA’s and supporters have tested several arguments to justify it. None of them holds any water and continuing to pile bafflegab on us just makes the issue worse and more irritating. It is not in the interest of British Columbians to have an election right now. The agreement with Greens was secure and would have provided stability until the scheduled election date in October of 2021. It is not correct to say that with COVID numbers rising it’s important to get the election over now while we can without increased risk to voters’ health and safety. Yes, COVID cases are rising right now but, if we are to believe most of the experts, including Dr. Bonnie Henry, there is reason for optimism on the vaccine front and by next fall we will likely be in a much better position than we are now, both on the COVID front and for safely holding a vote.

So why did the Premier call the election. It’s really very simple and no amount of obfuscation and clever arguments is going to hide it. He called the election because he calculated that his increased popularity as a result of the very good leadership he and his team have provided in maneuvering through the pandemic will result in a majority victory now, one that will assure his role as Premier and party as government for four more years. In other words he made a political calculation, nothing more, nothing less. Some will call it a cynical political calculation but that strikes me as creating a redundancy.

But will it work? Will he get the majority he wants? He is ahead in the polls and that might translate into a victory. Or it might not. It seems to me he and his advisors should probably have paid more attention to “The Dave Barrett Rule”. Oh, you haven’t heard of it? Well that’s because I just invented the term. Some of you will know immediately what I am talking about but I suspect most will not. So, a little bit of history.

Dave Barrett was elected as British Columbia’s first NDP Premier in September 1972. There were a number of factors contributing to his victory but, most important, was the splitting of the conservative vote in B.C. between the Social Credit Party, the Conservative Party and the Liberal Party that allowed him to win with a relatively small plurality, 39 % of the vote. With all the pent up energy of its many years in opposition the NDP set out to remake the province passing an average of one new law every three days for a total of 367 laws in its three years in government. Some were good, some less so but many were controversial and, in large sections of the electorate, very unpopular. And in those nearly three years the government’s share of the popular vote failed to break out of the relatively low range it was elected with. Three years into the mandate the government was confronted by massive strikes in the forest industry, strikes that crippled B.C.’s principal industry (forestry) at the time. And, in a turn that stunned everyone, his government brought in sweeping back to work legislation that ordered fifty thousand workers back to work and imposed the terms of a collective agreement. Not surprisingly, Premier Barrett’s union supporters felt deeply betrayed but the general public was on side and his ratings spiked. And that’s when he made the biggest mistake of his political life. He believed the new ratings would allow him to secure another majority government and so, with two years left in his mandate, he called a general election. Forty some days later he was defeated ushering in another sixteen years of Social Credit governance of the province. And that is what I call The Dave Barrett Rule.

Premier Horgan is now banking on his increased poll numbers resulting from his government’s management of the pandemic, believing presumably they will translate into more votes. But will they? I’m not so sure.

To begin with, the fundamental polarities of political life in B.C. remain intact despite the outstanding social cohesion shown in the face of the pandemic. Around forty percent of British Columbians will never support the NDP. They may be pleased with its handling of the pandemic; may even be pleasantly surprised that their governance before the pandemic didn’t validate their worst fears. But this is British Columbia and the indelible divides that reach back over a century have not gone away. I am aware of the early polls that show the NDP with a significant lead and it is possible in this world where everything has changed so too may have the political divisions of the province. But nearly sixty years of being part of and observing B.C. politics makes me skeptical.

And then there’s the matter of calling the early election which is where I come in. Prior to the pandemic I was almost persuaded to vote NDP for the first time in a long time. The government seemed competent, had stick handled its way around the three big issues I was concerned about with their election (electoral reform, Site C and the Tran Mountain pipeline), were filling in gaps in social and community support that had emerged over the sixteen years of Liberal governance and, most of all, seemed to be handling the public purse competently under the excellent guidance of the Finance Minister, Carol James. When the pandemic struck I, along with most British Columbians I suspect, was impressed with the government’s approach to it: trust the science; let the doctors do the leading; enforce the public health messages and ask everyone in the province to do their part. By and large, most people in British Columbia did and we “bent the proverbial curve” and avoided the worst of the first wave of the pandemic. For the first time in sixty years in B.C. I saw a kind of social solidarity I had never seen before and I liked it, really liked it and hoped perhaps against all probability, it would lead us to a better, more harmonious province when the pandemic was behind it.

Premier Horgan is the first Premier of B.C. since Boss Johnson that I haven’t known or, at least, had interractions with (yes, I’m that old). So my understanding of him is based entirely on his public image and as I watched him maneuver through the first three years of government I was impressed. He seemed intelligent, thoughtful, caring about people, aware he had to balance the competing interests of all British Columbians and he was a very good retail politician. So when the pandemic struck I wasn’t surprised those same qualities seemed to be guiding him to the exclusion of everything else. And that’s when I firmly decided I would vote to re-elect him in the next provincial election.

But now things have changed.

I don’t know who gave him what advice but I do know from my own experience that, as a new Premier, he is almost certainly surrounded by young, dedicated, partisan advisors who are absolutely certain they are right on everything and their decisions are the best for everyone regardless what everyone might feel. How do I know that? Because I was once one of those people.

And in the end, John Horgan is just another politician, no better, no worse than all the others. Okay, I know some of you who have known me for a long time are rolling your eyes right now because, yes, there was a time I was as partisan, hardnosed, strategic and ruthless as anyone who played the game in B.C. But I like to think life has given me some perspective and I do believe there is a better, more collaborative way to govern this province than what we’ve had throughout its entire history. But apparently not this time.

So how does all this affect my vote? To begin with, it moves it squarely into the “undecided” column where the campaign really will make the difference. And I know from discussions with friends I am not alone in this regard. When I say “the campaign will make a difference” I mean several things.

First, I live in a traditionally Liberal riding in Vancouver but the last election showed it is vulnerable to an NDP takeover. The NDP has nominated a woman who I know nothing about and, as I learn more about her and her positions, that will weigh on my decision.

Second, there are three issues that I am especially concerned about:

I will want to hear from both the NDP and the Liberals how they intend to address the chaos that is engulfing and destroying our neighbourhoods in Vancouver, whether Chinatown, Gastown, Yaletown and, increasingly, the rest of the downtown peninisula. And when I say I want to hear what they have to say I want them to start by acknowledging the victims in this crisis who are not drug addicted, mentally unstable residents of the Downtown Eastside. I want to hear they understand that all the other tax paying, law abiding citizens of Vancouver are victims as their neighbourhoods get trashed and destroyed. Just telling me they are going to build more low cost housing or ensure a supply of safe drugs isn’t going to cut it, even if that were ever going to be enough or is even a good idea. No, I want to hear what they are going to do on the enforcement side including removing people from society whose behaviour is threatening its stability.

Second, in light of the recent B.C. Supreme Court ruling rejecting the challenge to the Medicare Protection Act, I want to hear what they are prepared to do to fundamentally change how we deliver medical services in this province in a timely way. And just saying they are going to throw more money at waitlists won’t cut it. Been there, done that. Bandaids are not enough if there is a genuine commitment to sustaining Medicare. As it’s being provided now, it contravenes one of the key principles of The Canada Health Act, “Access”, something those who like to cherry pick those principles to support whatever position they are advocating conveniently ignore.

Third, I want to hear at least the beginnings of a plan to get B.C. back to fiscal health after the pandemic is behind us. And it won’t be enough to indulge in the magical thinking of so many on the left that says we need do nothing and just “grow our way out of it”. If the history of government debt in Canada doesn’t teach us anything else, it tells us we will need to do much more than that before we hit a fiscal wall. It will need tax increases, cuts in government spending and, yes, robust growth.

So, to return to my principal theme, the glass of social solidarity that I hoped would carry forward into the future has been cracked and that, admittedly probably utopian hope, is nowhere in sight. But at least they could try to campaign in a way that doesn’t add to the damage. Unfortunately that’s not what I’m seeing. I’m sure there are Liberal attack ads I haven’t seen yet but I have seen theNDP attacks on Liberal Leader Andrew Wilkinson that try to paint him as a scary Donald Trump wannabe. I’ve worked with Andrew Wilkinson and I know him to be highly intelligent, thoughtful, principled and not at all reactionary. I should perhaps note here for those of you who know B.C. politics, he is very much of the Liberal wing of the coalition that is the Liberal Party of B.C. And as for those who are lamenting what will happen on the pandemic front if we are foolish enough to elect him as Premier, I simply say this. Andrew Wilkinson is a lawyer but, more importantly on this issue, he is a medical doctor, in fact was a small town doctor in rural B.C. I haven’t the slightest doubt he will follow the science and let the medical professionals continue to take the lead in B.C.

As well as the NDP attack ads, I’m being inundated on social media with ads warning me the Liberals will take away all the hard won rights of lesbians and gays. Aside from provoking an eye roll, what utter nonsense. Even if they could, there is no reason whatsoever to suggest they would. So, really guys, cut it out.

I’m afraid the cracks are spreading. Trust me when I say, “it is what it is” I’m not quoting the unmentionable President of the United States. I’m just acknowledging where we are because of a bad choice that Premier Horgan made.

In the meantime, at least on the issue of why the election was called or the attempts to scare vulnerable minorities or to demonize the government’s opponents, I say this:

STOP TREATING US AS CHILDREN!

Just sayin

G

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A conservative and usually Republican friend of mine in the U.S. reacted to one of my recent blogs by suggesting I was improperly meddling in the U.S. election. I responded that it affected us all but, putting aside the hypocrisy of most Republicans turning a blind eye to the real, blatant and documented Russian meddling in the election to help Donald Trump, I thought the accusation deserved a fuller response. Here goes.

First the personal. I grew up in southen Alberta and southern B.C. The U.S. border was always an easy drive away and we thought nothing of jumping in the family car and going to Montana or, later, Washington State. Crossing the border in those days involved little more than a wave from the border guard both going and coming. My early impressions of America were formed by Montana. We would visit exotic locales like Great Falls, Helena and Kalispell, driving through impressive countryside to reach them. My early memories of the Americans were positive. Friendly, outgoing, helpful but still somehow different than us although I couldn’t quite put my finger on how at that young age. After we moved to Vancouver in my teens visits to Bellingham and Seattle were an easy drive. I remember liking the energy of the places and probably secretly envying the Americans their lives. A bit later, friendships and partners in Seattle resulted in frequent commuting back and forth.

All that changed on September 11, 2001. The border got thicker and then much thicker, making crossing by car a trial even with a Nexus card. My visits immediately south were curtailed and then mostly petered out. I did, however, continue to visit frequently by air, continuing my love affair with New York and my affection for places like San Francisco, Los Angeles, Palm Springs and Key West. And it wasn’t just the locales that appealed to me, it was the people with all their sometimes outrageous energy and overwhelmingly positive drive. It seemed they were at the forefront of western civilization and, as a young man, I wanted to be a part of it.

And before I here howls of “but” about America, let me say I have witnessed and am aware of its flaws. I marched in the first anti Vietnam war protest in Vancouver. I was a vocal critic of its often deadly meddling in the affairs of Central and South America. I deplored its ginned up invasion of Iraq. I was horrified by its seemingly effortless slide into the use of torture after the 911 atttack. Like most other Canadians, I am appalled at the role and number of guns in America. I have witnessed the blatant racism that so poisons so much of its civic discord and I see the terrible economic disparities in America, leaving so many of its citizens destitute and desperate with little ability to access healthcare or to feed their families. So, I do understand America is far from perfect, although I suspect no more so than the empires and dominant powers that came before it.

But still…

There is the idea. That incredible idea that is the foundation of the republic. The idea of individual human beings at the centre, not the periphery or the object of, governments. The idea that all people are created equal. The idea that governance should be by the people, for the people and of the people, that all have a say. And, lest we take this for granted, it needs to be said it is a radical break from the norms that have governed humanity for its many millenia.

So, yes I do feel I have a personal stake in what’s happening in the United States and not just because of my friends and family there or my investment of affection for the country. But also because it still represents the best, and perhaps last, hope for the ideas that have animated western civilization since the days of classical Greece.

Prime Minister Pierre Trudeau (for those of you not familiar with Canadian history, he was the father of the current Prime Minister Trudeau) famously said to Americans:”Living next to you is in some ways like sleeping with an elephant. No matter how friendly and even-tempered is the beast, if I can call it that, one is affected by every twich and grunt”

There is also a Canadian version of the global aphorism: “When America sneezes, Canada gets a cold”

Vancouver, my home, is known for the sparkling waters of the Pacific Ocean that surround it on three sides; for snow capped mountains that tower over the city and for the cool, clean Pacific air that washes over it. But, as I write this, we in Vancouver have just emerged from ten days of respiratory hell. A dark, dirty brown smoke settled on the city for ten days, blotting out the views, in fact sometimes making it impossible to see even across a street. It burned our eyes. It irritated our nostrils. It infiltrated our lungs and then our blood streams promising unknown but negative health effects. The health authorities urged us to stay indoors with our windows closed. For at least three days Vancouver had the worst air quality on the planet. The only time I have seen anything even remotely like it was in Beijing and surely we don’t want that to be the standard. That smoke came directly from the wildfires burning up and down the entire American Pacific coast from southern California to the Canada/U.S. border, wildfires made immeasurably worse by climate change that the overwhelming scientific consensus says is the result of human activity.

As the climate warms the effects on Canada will be severe and, in some cases, catastrophic:

Glacial caps will melt and flow to the oceans which then rise and significant parts of my home city, Vancouver, will no longer be habitable;

As the oceans around Vancouver warm, critical stocks of fish are disappearing, probably seeking colder water up north and one of B.C.’s vital and historic industries, commercial fishing, is endangered;

Infestations of previously unknown insects are appearing, killing our forests, damaging the forestry industry and leaving a trail of dry tinder in their wake;

The prairies, Canada’s “bread basket”, are experiencing increasingly extreme weather with more drought and heat endangering the crops that we rely upon and have used for over a century to help feed the world;

The east coast of Canada is experiencing more and more extreme weather, like the category two hurricane that is barrelling towards it as I write this;

The Canadian arctic is warming faster than almost anywhere else on the planet, destroying precious habitat and pushing species like polar bears towards extinction while uprooting communties, some that have been there for thousands of years.

And while this is happening Donald Trump sits in the White House and fiddles. Acually, if he were just fiddling that would be an improvement but instead, in a childish drive to eradicate any vestige of his predecessor, he and his enablers are systematically unwinding all the progess America had made in fighting climate change. I don’t know if the motivation is just his need to destroy the Obama legacy; or it’s because he’s in the pockets of big business that relies on carbon extraction; or because he is just appallingly ignorant of science or it’s all about politics as he tells his followers they really don’t have to change anything in their lives, rather like his ongoing advice on the COVID 19 pandemic. But it really doesn’t matter what his motives are. His actions speak for themselves and without American leadership battling climate change there is little likelihood the other huge polluters like China and India will do very much either until large parts of this planet become uninhabitable.

Again, we have a stake.

America’s response to the COVID 19 pandemic is a man made catastrophe. Its failure results from the complete lack of leadershp at the top. Now we know it wasn’t just ignorance or a dislike of science. Now we know it was outright lying to try to gain a political advantage. So, as the virus became embedded in the American population, Donald Trump fiddled and, not at all surprisingly, at least in B.C., the virus crossed the border into Canada, America becoming far and away its major source in this province.

Again, we have a stake.

Donald Trump’s foreign policy has been either farce or tragedy, probably some combination of both. His courtship of the tiny viscious North Korean dictator, while producing cringeworthy photos, and his love affair with tyrants, did much worse. His so called “deal” with North Korea did nothing to curtail the expansion of its nuclear and missle arsenal. And now it is likely North Korea has nuclear armed missiles able to hit the west coast of Canada.

Further away and yet in some ways closer to home, his abandoning the Kurds fighting for their freedom in northern Syria and Iraq left the Candian soldiers, who had been embedded with them and guided them for years through their long struggle, with the agonizing choice of abandoning trusted allies and friends or facing the onslaught of the mighty Turkish army.

Canada has supported the international order mostly created by America after the Second World War. It has developed diplomatic and economic relations around the world that rely on it and the belief the naked self interest of individual nation states can be curbed for the benefit of all. But Donald Trump has taken a wrecking ball to it and the institutions that express it, whether NATO, the U.N., the World Health Organization and so many others. He has done so in the name of “America First” as if the order it created did not primarily benefit America. Increasingly, the world is in disarray and that presents a profound challenge for Canada.

Again, we have a stake.

Growing up in Vancouver there was very little crime that involved guns. Now it seems there is one or more shootings every day. Canada has reasonable gun control laws (although not as tough as I would like) and it is still relatively hard to get a gun legally in Canada. So where are the guns coming from? From the United States, sold and smuggled illegally into Canada.

And, need I say it again, so Canada has a stake.

And then there’s Donald Trump’s direct treatment of Canada. For over two hundred years Canada has tried to be a good neighbour and ally of the United States. Our soldiers have fought and died side by side on the battlefields of the First World War, the Second World War, including the Normandy landings, the Korean War and more recently the battles against Al-Quaeda in Afghanistan. We demurred twice: the Vietnam War and the invasion of Iraq, both decisions I as a Canadian am proud of. On a smaller scale we have helped where we could, whether sheltering American diplomats and then smuggling them out of the country during the Iran Hostage Crisis at great risk to our own diplomats (despite, by the way, the appallingly revisionist picture of those events in Ben Affleck’s film) or sheltering and supporting thousands of Americans after the 911 attacks.

We have worked collaboratively to ensure the North American economy is integrated and competitive with the world. And we have both benefited from that. Aside from his casual insults, Donald Trump has wrecked havoc on our relationship, threatening at one point to “destroy the Canadian economy” and all this just to satisfy a campaign promise to tear up the NAFTA agreement that, in the end, remains mostly intact.

And then there is his frequent use of “national security” to justify slapping tariffs on Canadian products such as steel and aluminum, as if relying on Canadian suppliers would somehow undermine America’s security, this from one of our oldest and best allies.

The damage to the relationship will take a long time to repair. Canadians will not soon forget how capricious and unreliable America can be and that is a the loss to both countries.

So finally, yes we have a stake.

And then there is the biggest of all issues. We, in the west, live in what is described as “Western Civilization”. Its roots stretch back through antiquity to classical Greece, continuing through Alexandrian Greece and through the Roman Empire, only to be extinguished in the dark ages for nearly a thousand years after the fall of Rome in the fifth century. It awoke in the sixteenth century with the Italian Renaissance and has continued apace for over five hundred years, becoming the dominant culture on earth. Like all previous civilizations it will end. The question is “how soon”? Will it be fifty years from now or a century or two? These are very important questions because for all its faults and dreadful things done in its name, western civilization has benefited the world enormously. Whether in science, medicine, technology or, even more fundamentally, its view of the role of each human being in human communities, we are the beneficiaries of its progress. The very ideas of human rights, womens’ rights, gay rights, civil liberties, indeed freedom as we understand it itself, are all products of the long march forward of the west. And all of that may be lost.

I should note that I have come to believe that the western models, the western ideas, don’t always apply to other cultures where humans and societies have evolved in different ways and that it is folly for the west to try to export its systems of belief and government, particularly by force. But I am certain it is the best fit for us and its loss to us would be incalculable.

So what does all this philosophical “stuff” have to do with the American election? Well, as imperfect and messy as America is, it is still the best, indeed currently likely the only, hope to extend the west’s long trajectory of progress. The simple fact is there is no other western power big enough or strong enough to pull the west together and to lead it and there is none on the horizon. The last time the leading power was faltering, when the Brtitish Empire was in decline, America was in the wings. Today the wings are empty.

So as America is riven by partisanship, racism and divisions that threaten its very existence, we all need to be concerned. I don’t expect the west will end cataclysmically, more likely it will just decline until, like the Ottoman Empire in the nineteenth century, it’s an empty vessel waiting for the mildest breeze of history to topple it and plunge us all into a new dark age in a time when cultures and civilizations come to dominate that are antithetical to our very existence. But far better that be hundreds of years from now than soon.

So my American friends, we do have a stake, an enormous stake, and while we don’t get to vote, we not only have a right but a duty to raise our voices and try to alert you to the fact that when you vote in November, it’s not just about you. It’s about all of us.

Just sayin.

G

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Two years ago I drove from Vancouver to San Francisco with stops in Seattle and Portland. It had been several years since I had visited them and what I saw was distressing. The prevalence of homelessness, neighbourhoods under siege, panhandling and open drug use was shocking. In Seattle the worst examples were in the Capital Hill district and in Portland, that I always thought of as a kind of bucolic little oasis, they seemed almost everywhere in the downtown. San Francisco had also changed for the worse and streets and neighbourhoods that had been vibrant and safe were anything but. For those of you familiar with San Francisco the most shocking example for me was in the few blocks of Sutter immediately west of Union Square. This was an area that had been filled with galleries, boutique hotels and upscale restaurants and bars. It was the area I stayed in on my frequent visits to the city in the seventies and eighties but now it had the feel of neglect with boarded up store fronts, panhandlers, the smell of urine and, for lack of a better term, street people everywhere. It was as if the Tenderloin had migrated north although I suspect it was even worse there.

As Canadians we like to think we handle things better than Americans, particularly when it comes to social order and civic involvement. However, if that’s what we think on this issue, we’ve got it wrong. Canadian cities are having the same struggles with poverty, homelessness, drug addiction and the destruction of neighbourhoods as our American neighbours.

While I believe these problems exist to a greater or lesser extent in all Canada’s major cities, I suspect they are most acute in Vancouver and Victoria because of climate.  They are the only two Canadian cities where it is possible to live outside year round.  I have lived in Vancouver for sixty years, with nearly fifty of them on the downtown peninsula. In that time I have seen enormous changes as the city strove to make the downtown a place where people could both live and work. It had a head start with the West End which had been filled with rooming houses since the early twentieth century and was then transformed in the late fifties and early sixties as successive city councils supported the replacement of those old houses with high rises. By today’s standards they really weren’t that high although I remember when it was claimed that the density in the West End of Vancouver was exceeded in North America only by Manhattan. And it provided a large, affordable rental housing stock for the downtown workforce, all within walking distance.

Subsequent development in Vancouver continued to pursue this objective as the Downtown South, Yaletown, Coal Harbour and False Creek South and North neighbourhoods were built, this time focussing primarily on co-op’s, leaseholds and condominiums. A distinctive style appeared that came to be known as the Vancouver Style. It consists of single highrises anchored by pedestals of street level town houses. It got noticed and Vancouverites were proud of what they were accomplishing, especially when other cities emulated it. The goal was to create a downtown that remained a vital alive neighbourhood even at night and on weekends and, to some extent, it has. Although this new housing is expensive, the city added non market housing amongst these developments. It has also insisted on amenities that appeal to families to make the new neighbourhoods family friendly and mixed. In response, thousands of people have moved into these neighbourhoods, whether downsizing from stand alone houses, new arrivals to the city or first time buyers.

Partly in response to price pressures, developers also began similar neighbourhoods further east and north of the downtown core, specifically in Gastown, which is the original city centre, Chinatown and on the Eastern shore of False Creek which, for those of you not familiar with Vancouver, is the smaller of Vancouver’s two harbours.

While all this was happening something else was going on that would ultimately threaten and potentially defeat the goal of creating viable neighbourhoods in the city’s core. The Downtown East Side is the neighbourhood strung along Hastings Street for six to eight blocks beginning just east of Main Street and tapering off the further west you go. It has long been the poorest postal code in Canada and, in fact, may have been the neighbourhood that first led to the term “skid row” (for reasons that are interesting but not germane to this blog). When I was growing up in Vancouver it was considered seedy but still basically safe.  It had a number of down market hotels that catered to single men who worked on the waterfront or in mining, forestry or fishing and who came to Vancouver intermittently. There were beer parlors where the police would often be called but, on the whole, the neighbourhood didn’t intrude too much into the rest of the city. It’s unclear when that changed although there is a theory it may have started, or at least been accelerated, by governments’ decisions in the seventies and eighties to deinstitutionalize many people suffering from mental disorders, with them subsequently congregating in that neighbourhood. Also, Vancouver’s rapidly rising property prices almost certainly drove people to find shelter in the neighbourhood that, for obvious reasons, remained relatively inexpensive.

And now the Downtown Eastside is a massive malignant and metastisizing tumor on Vancouver’s carefully nurtured pristine image of ocean, mountains, parks, flowers and happy middle class families. It is a civic and national disgrace, an open drug market and the incubator of property crime all over the city. Driving down those few blocks of Hastings Street is simply unbelievable with blocks and blocks that could have been taken directly from the “Bonfire of the Vanities” or, worse, the most pestulent, poverty stricken and desperate slums in the world. And all this just a short walk from the new glamorous family friendly neighbourhoods.

Not surprisingly, the chaos and anti social behaviour is spreading and as it spreads it threatens to unravel the threads of civility, safety and civic mindedness that are the glue that holds any great city together. The neighbourhoods closest to the Downtown Eastside have already been destroyed or are under extreme threat. The vibrant Chinatown that, in my youth, was billed as the second largest in North America after San Francisco’s and was filled with exotic shops and restaurants complete with giant neon signs is a ghost of its former self, its residents having fled to the safety of the suburbs. Gastown, the quaint center of the original city, is under constant pressure and never quite makes it to the next step of livability. And now Strathcona, the first neighbourhood of Vancouver that, having survived threats of demolition for a freeway in the seventies and then slowly, methodically been restored by individuals and families is seeing its main park occupied by a homeless encampment where drug dealing and use is rampant and where, if past is prologue, there will be assaults and worse in the days to come.

And anyone living elsewhere in the city who thinks their neighbourhood is immune from this disease is fooling themselves. I live on the North Shore of False Creek in a nice neighbourhood, in fact the oldest of the residential neighbourhoods on the south side of the downtown core. Twice in the past three days I witnessed people shooting up drugs not a block from my home and, frankly, didn’t find that surprising although a few years ago it would have been unthinkable. And even more recently, several men have set up a “chop shop” right under the Burrard Bridge opposite a daycare where they are dismantling bicycles in front of everyone.  Even where neighbourhoods are not yet colonized, the open sore of the Downtown Eastside sends out its tentacles disbursing chaos and disorder to many other parts of the city. Drug addicts, the mentally unstable and others who, for whatever reason, are living outside of society fill the city’s streets as panhandlers, scavengers and, yes, thieves.

I don’t know why we have tolerated this for so long but I do know it can no longer be ignored. Politicians going back decades have had “solutions” to the problems of the Downtown Eastside. Except none of them has worked, perhaps because none of them was prepared to fully confront what was going on there. We have focused on safe injection sites, a safe supply of drugs and providing more and more social housing, none of which gets to the root of the problem. While I certainly agree it is important to do what we can to ensure people do not die from injecting unsafe drugs and, to the best of our ability, we must try to ensure people have adequate shelter, the real question is why have we tolerated the out of control Vancouver drug scene and associated crime for so long?

I believe it’s because our liberal sensibilities block us from seeing these people as anything other than victims which may, of course, be the case although I suspect a similar argument can be made for most other people who break the law. And the simple fact is they are not the only victims in this situation nor, I would argue, the ones with the greatest claim to our sympathy. Everyone else who tries to lead a law abiding life in the city; who invests in their home; who pays taxes to support schools and playgrounds and, yes, the very services that are devoted in ever greater amounts to the people who, for whatever reason, have decided to place themselves out of society and create a world of chaos that threatens the stability and safety of everyone else, is a victim. Billions, yes billions with a “B”, have been spent and are being spent supporting the people of the Downtown Eastside and their confreres, much of it promptly injected into their bodies and into the pockets of local and International drug dealers.

So, what do we do? Well, for starters, we must reaffirm that laws are not suggestions. When a democratic society, through its elected legislatures and representatives, declares something to be illegal it is a prohibition and defying it should have negative consequences. And yet when it comes to drug use on the Downtown Eastside and elsewhere around the city we turn a blind eye, somehow making those doing it an exception to that fundamental building block of a successful society. I know that leads right into the demand that drug use be legalized; that possession of small amounts of hard drugs be deemed acceptable. But how would that help the problems we see as a result of drug use? It wouldn’t and is a cop out.

I am told we don’t have enough police resources to enforce the current laws; that the courts couldn’t cope with the huge increase in cases; and that the correctional system is simply not equipped to play its role.

Then hire more police, perhaps a special unit specifically trained to deal with the unique problems we are confronting.

Then increase the capacity of the court system, perhaps creating a separate system dedicated to just this issue.

Then develop and build the institutions and facilities that will be needed.

Remember, we are already flushing billions down the drain.

I am also told there are legal, perhaps even Charter, obstacles to denying people their liberty this way. Well then, change the laws.

I’m not advocating that all drug users simply be tossed into jail, although that would be appropriate for the dealers. We need to be smarter than that. We need to create and support institutions that, while separating these people from society, are also equipped to help them with their mental and dependency issues. The simple fact is the drive to deinstitutionalize people with mental health issues has failed and the best evidence is found in the Downtown Eastside of Vancouver.

I’m not exaggerating when I say we are in danger of losing our cities; that the great experiment of bringing people back into cities’ cores will fail if we are unable to address the growing problem so well illustrated by Vancouver’s Downtown Eastside.  And, we must address it soon before the loss is irreversible.

 

Just sayin

G

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The choice for America couldn’t be more clear .

Both conventions are over.  One, highlighting the future.  The other, the past.  The Democratic convention was a celebration of America’s rich racial and cultural heritage and its diversity.  It called on the nation to return to the principles in its founding documents, principles never fully actualized and even flawed in their first expression, but principles that none the less have offered a beacon to freedom loving people around the world for over two hundred years.

The Republican convention was something entirely different as it sowed fear and anger and division, appealing to America’s darkest instincts and worst impulses, a perfect reflection of the man leading it, Donald Trump.  Going into the convention organizers signalled they were going for a softer, more relatable Donald Trump and Republican Party, while painting a nostalgic picture of an earlier America where white small towns and suburbs overflowed with the benevolent milk of an Andy Griffith show.

Well, you really can’t dress up a pig.

It seems the Republican election strategy is going to borrow from the Willie Horton playbook used by George H.W. Bush in his campaign, and an indelible stain on his otherwise commendable life.  Fear of the other.  And the other always has a different skin colour although, far and away, the greatest fear of insecure American white males is that they will be replaced, emasculated, rendered vulnerable by Black men.  Hispanics concern them but the Black man is the ultimate, indeed existential, threat.

So, while the streets of America are roiled by demonstrations in response to the seemingly constant killing of black people by police Donald Trump and the Republican Party pour fuel on the festering wound of slavery and racism that is America’s original sin. The goal is to distract the American people from the appalling failure to respond effectively to COVID 19 by Donald Trump and his administration, leaving America an object of pity for the rest of world, as it continues as the epicentre of the pandemic with over six million infected and one hundred and eighty thousand, and counting, dead.

There is no attempt to reach out; to console; to calm.  Just the relentless use of division and hate to further the political ambitions and economic privilege of a tiny group of people, while engaging in an extraordinay attempt to gaslight an entire population; a campaign worthy of the best efforts of the twentieth century’s worst and most detested tyrants and dictators.  Move over Adolph Hitler, Joseph Stalin, Mao Tse Tung, Pol Pot and, not to be forgotten, Vladimir Putin.

They demand Americans follow them down the rabbit hole where right is wrong, up is down and truth is fiction.  On their side of that looking glass Donald Trump has provided effective and inspirational leadership combatting the pandemic.  In fact, they want Americans to believe its response is a model for the world, something all of us outside of America envy and want to emulate.  And they want them to believe that he and he alone can turn back the tide of protest and anger, all the while doing everything to inflame it. They tell Americans Donald Trump has made America stronger, more respected and more feared in the world.  And they want Americans to believe that only Donald Trump can lead America’s economic recovery from the worst recession since the Great Depression, a recession made much worse by his dishonesty, ineptitude and incompetence fighting the pandemic.  Fiction is truth and down is up.

Republicans like to describe themselves as belonging to the party of Lincoln.  But, of course, today’s Republican Party isn’t even a distant cousin of the party of Lincoln.  In fact, more and more, it is even unhinged from its own more recent conservative roots, adopting instead a rabid populism where its leaders feel nothing but contempt for their supporters as they manipulate them to support positions that only benefit the very wealthy and powerful and that fundamentally undermine American democracy. Reasoned debate is replaced by tweets, by screeds and, worst of all, by incitements to violence, incitements that have already resulted in deaths at the hands of white militias.  

One waits for a Joseph Welch moment from the Army-McCarthy hearings when he famously confronted Senator McCarthy:

“At long last, have you left no sense of decency?”

But of course, Donald Trump and the grifters and enablers around him had none to begin with.

One speaker at the Republican convention got my attention when he described Donald Trump as “the bodyguard of Western Civilization”.  His name is Charlie Kirk, a conservative provocateur on college campuses, whatever that means, and it’s entirely possible he actually believes that although I suspect his idea of Western Civilization has more to do with the Vegas Strip, Trump Tower and Chick fil-A than the teachings of Sophocles, Aristotle, Cicero and Edmund Burke.  

And then there were the gun toting McClosky’s who when, I suspect, their cocktail hour was interrupted by peaceful Black Lives Matters protestors walking past their faux Grecian mansion, felt the appropriate response was to threaten them with deadly force, he with a semi automatic rifle and she with a pistol.  The Republicans lionized them as patriots and probably the vanguard of what law abiding citizens would have to do if Donald Trump loses in November.  What an appalling disgrace.

The convention is only a few days behind us and now we see clearly it was just the dress rehearsal for perhaps the most irresponsible political campaign in American history. When a group of Donald Trump supporters, calling themselves patriots, decided to mount a protest cavalcade to confront the protesters who have been demonstrating in Portland ever since the killing of George Floyd, the inevitable happened.  One of them was shot and killed.  It wasn’t inevitable that one of them got killed but it was only a matter of time before someone did.  And how did Donald Trump  respond?  By recklessly throwing fuel on the fire.  He refers to his supporters as “Great Patriots”.  And lets not forget the teenage vigilante in Kenosha who showed up with an automatic rifle and shot four demonstrators, killing two.  When asked, Donald Trump refused to condemn this man now charged with two first degree murders.  In fact, he manufactured a justification for his actions, further encouraging his supporters to stage similar such acts.  The odds look increasingly likely for a violent and bloody two months leading up to the election and the appalling truth is Donald Trump doesn’t care who is hurt or killed as long as it helps him stay in power.

It is clear that Donald Trump, those around him and his enablers in the Republican Party are willing to do anything to retain power, including if necessary, tearing apart the very fabric of their country.  I have no doubt they will continue to lie and cheat, to work to disenfranchise as many Americans as possible, to incite violence and then seek to use it to their advantage in the campaign; all the while trying to distract the American public from their epic failure to manage the COVID 19 pandemic that continues to kill thousands of Americans and cripple the economy.  This begs the question whether or not America can survive.  Even if they manage to steal the election what will be the result?  Will the majority of Americans who oppose them simply give up and endure their appalling grift or will they rise up in opposition leading to further turmoil and dysfunction.  Knowing Americans as I do, I expect they will rise up and resist at whatever cost.

Amidst all this carnage there is hope.  Joe Biden continues to lead in the polls and, increasingly, long time Republicans are coming out in support of him.  Millions of Americans are clearly willing to do whatever is needed to ensure their vote is not stolen and, along with it, their country.  At times like this the language of poetry or scripture is sometimes useful.  In this case perhaps with America’s Better Angels facing the Four Horsemen of the Apocalypse.  I’m still betting on the Angels.

just sayin

G

 

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Two nights ago something extraordinary happened. A thirteen year old boy with a stutter, Brayden Harrington, stood before the cameras in front of millions of people and read a statement in support of Joe Biden for President. He looked just like any other ordinary kid just entering his teens. But there was nothing ordinary about what he did. He was there because Joe Biden, himself also a stutterer, had helped him overcome his disability. We knew he had endured teasing, bullying, self doubt, rage and grief during his brief thirteen years on this earth. We could barely imagine his pain in those years. And yet here he was.

He started well with no sign of the stutter. Then, perhaps a couple of minutes in, he encountered a consonant, it was an “s”, and stopped. The silence that ensued echoed from Alaska to Texas, from Maine to southern California and beyond and seemed to last forever as this child focussed all his attention, all his energy, all his pain on that single letter. I have no doubt millions wanted to rush to his aid, to lift him up and free him of this burden but he stood there alone, staring into space, all his focus inwards, and fighting an agonizing battle with the stutter. And then it broke. He pronounced the “s”, actually the word “stutterer”. Quickly, fleetingly, but done. And we all exhaled. There were a couple of further brief pauses, but nothing to equal that moment of agony. When it was over he smiled shyly off the camera, one hopes at a grinning, thumbs up, mom and dad.

And what an extraordinay metaphor, surely not planned but, really, perfect. America at a moment when everything is on the table, when the struggle between the forces that would turn it into an inward looking, corrupt, anti democratic kleptocracy are being confronted in what may be the final contest.

As I expect most of you have figured out, I’m a bit of a political junkie. I used to be more so but, of late, I’ve tended to forgo the hours of watching political conventions, debates and election returns, preferring instead to let someone else distill them down, give me the highlights, and share their opinion. So I had no intention of watching the Democratic Convention but, after the evening news on Monday, I decided to give it a brief watch, perhaps ten minutes. Two hours later I had watched the entire program. I then decided I didn’t need to watch on Tuesday at all but, again, I dipped my toe in and stayed to the end. And so it was on Wednesday and Thursday although by then I knew I would watch the entire thing.

And what did I see? I saw the America I so respect, look up to, admire and, yes, even occasionally envy. I saw it’s big demanding heart, expressed in every hue of the rainbow: noisy, clamouring, shouting and bursting with energy. It was the America I had almost forgotten amidst the carnage of the last three and a half years and certainly the America I had missed. It was like catching a glimpse of an old friend after a long separation and remembering how important that friend is to me.

Oddly, the part I enjoyed most was the role call. The f…ing role call for gods sake! Typically it is mind numbingly boring and takes place in a massive crowd on a convention floor that is then interrupted by the delegate from wherever, often dressed outlandishly and plugging whatever is special about their state, only to be swallowed back into the vast waves of people around him or her. Unless, as never seems to be the case any more, there is a brokered convention and people really don’t know who the nominee is until he or she accrues the necessary number of votes, it is a good time to take a nap. But in this time of COVID the Democrats did something quite remarkable and, I suspect, technically very risky, as they opened portals into each state where the representatives were standing to cast their votes, all the way from the Bering Sea to the Gulf of Mexico and beyond. Even the shmaltzy platter of Rhode Island calamari added a nice note. For me, however, the most moving moment was the casting of Wyoming’s votes by the parents of Mathew Shepard standing out on the empty plain. In case you don’t remember, Mathew Shephard was the twenty two year old gay man who was beaten, crucified and then left to die by homophobic assailants on those same plains.

And then there was The Speech. You know the one that nobody expected would be very good. The one that would inevitably pale in comparison to the Democratic warhorses who spoke earlier. The one where Joe Biden accepted the nomination of his party to challenge Donald Trump in November. In case you have been sealed in an hermetic vault since, let me be the first to let you know Joe Biden nailed it. Delivered with barely a hiccup or, in his case, a stutter, he took on the three and a half years of thuggery and corruption that has dominated American politics starting at the White House and he promised to lead the American people back to a place of sanity and civility. But he didn’t just promise a return to “normal” as he acknowledged the enormous issues of income disparity, racism and health that bedevil America today perhaps as never before. It was a speech about hope but also about struggle, acknowledging the forces of recidivism and darkness that today threaten the very life of the American Democracy.

I certainly don’t think of “poetry” when I think of Joe Biden’s speeches, but it was there too. Not just in the quotation from the great Irish poet, Seamus Heaney: “But then, once in a lifetime/ The longed-for tidal wave/Of justice can rise up/And hope and history rhyme.” but also in the very themes that underlined everything he said and, especially in his peroration:

“May history be able to say that the end of this chapter of American darkness began here tonight as love and hope and light joined in the battle for the soul of the nation.”

We could almost visualize all those determined, happy warriors heading out into the night to confront the evil that has diminished their nation.

Of course next week we will get the Republican answer that, apparently, is being closely choreographed by Donald Trump himself. It will be dark and distopian but, I suspect, not enough to overwhelm what Joe Biden and his party have unleashed.

just sayin

G

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The U.S. Presidential Election is 83 days away. You can almost hear the collective intake of breath as people opposed to President Trump wait fearfully for something awful to upset the campaign’s current trajectory which sees Vice President Joe Biden consistently ahead both nationally and in key battleground states. After all, isn’t that what happened in 2016 when, up until the last minute, the election of Hilary Clinton seemed certain? Until it wasn’t.

Of course after the election dust settled; after a “moral victory” was declared because Hilary Clinton won the popular vote by nearly three million votes; after the Womens’ March allowed so much venting; everyone settled into a kind of reassuring narrative that Donald Trump, once sworn in and surrounded with wise men and women, wouldn’t be so bad after all. That somehow the weight of the office would transform him from the real estate mountebank and outlandish buffoon of a campaigner into something vaguely familiar and presidential. And, of course, there were all the sane men and women around him, the proverbial “adults in the room” who would guide him and avoid any total disaster.

Well, how did that work out for you America?

Aside from shredding the constitution at every opportunity and behaving like the insecure, privileged bully he is, what else has he done? Where to begin? In the earliest days of his administration he undermined and weakened the alliances and international structures that contributed so much to America’s success in the eighty years since the second world war, being sure to belittle and insult its oldest and best allies on the way. He rolled back, and continues to roll back, the initiatives on climate change implemented by the Obama administration while withdrawing America from the Paris Climate Accord and aligning it with a tiny group of small, pariah nations. Wherever possible he attacked the rights of minorities in America, whether racial or sexual, all the while fanning the flames of racial conflict to further his own political ends. He cozied up to anti democratic “strong men” around the world including Vladimar Putin, Kim Jong-un, Recep Erdogan, Viktor Orban, Jair Bolsonaro and even Xi Jinping clearly envying them their freedom from legal/democratic constraints. On the subject of Xi Jinping by the way, he withdrew America from the Trans Pacific Trade Partnership, as great a gift to China as he could have possibly given. And of course, he failed utterly to marshall an effective American response to the COVID 19 Pandemic resulting in the richest, most powerful and, in many respects, most technologically advanced country in the world now being the epicentre of the pandemic that has already taken over one hundred and fifty thousand American lives and inflicted untold damage on the economic well being of the country and its citizens.

Not bad for an amateur.

And let’s not forget the army of enablers in the Republican Party who have supported him all the way through this carnage and have proven definitively that the vaunted “checks and balances” means nothing when people with no moral centre are in charge.

Not to be ignored through all these outrages, the sleazy opportunism of him and his family and the toadies that surround them as they milk the American system for their own enrichment and enjoyment no matter the cost to national unity or, indeed, survival.

Much time and energy is being spent trying to analyze why Donald Trump does what he does. Why bother? Take your pick: he’s massively insecure; he has serious daddy issues; he’s a grifter at heart and will never change; he completely lacks empathy. And…well, just consult the New York Times Book Review and you’ll find an almost infinite number of well developed possibilities. But frankly, I don’t give a damn why he is what he so obviously is. Except, of course, that he is the President of the United States and in a position to inflict terrible damage on the world, even more so than he has already done.

So, yes, the election on November 3 is important, really important, and not just for America but for all the functioning democracies in the world (not to mention those that aspire to become functioning democracies). And I believe Donald Trump will be defeated on November 3. When I say those words I hear that collective intake of breath again with the whispered advice “please don’t say that” as if saying it might somehow jinx the outcome. I’m no expert, but that strikes me as a kind of PTSD following November 2016 and everything since but I offer my opinion based on a few things. Some of you know that many years ago I was very involved in politics and that I organized and managed many election campaigns and there are still a few lessons from those days rattling around my now seventy one year old head. There are three principal reasons I believe he will lose: first, it is a virtual certainty he will receive fewer votes than he received in 2016 and remember he only “won” by a hairs breadth in three determinative swing states; second, the epic failure to manage the pandemic cannot be shrugged off and will most likely cost him many independent votes; and third, and most important, turnout. Turnout is one of those terms you hear political commentators throwing around all the time and, for most I suspect, it is a pretty amorphous term but for those who really “do” politics it is the meat and potatoes of winning elections, particularly close ones and I do not believe I have ever witnessed a more politcally motivated group than those people who want to be rid of Donald Trump in America today and that will translate into votes no matter what the voter suppression efforts of the Republicans or the fear of the virus. In a sense, Donald Trump is the secret weapon for those who want him gone. In fact, it might not even be close.

So, I foresee waking up on November 4 feeling relaxed for the first time in four years. But here’s the problem: winning the election is the easy part. Salvaging/rebuilding America is the hard part and I doubt Joe Biden’s shoulders are broad enough to do that (although, remember Harry Truman). At best, I think a President Biden will calm the waters and rebuild the most obvious ruptures Donald Trump has caused. If that is all that happens then America is only postponing the inevitable return to the kind of appalling division and conflict laid bare by Donald Trump and his administration.

Even with his defeat Donald Trump will have received the support of tens of millions of Americans who, by almost any measure, can no longer claim to not completely understand what and who he is. They will have voted for him because they support him and his views and that’s an enormous problem.

If America is to permanently “right the ship” it will need to do much more than reject a wannabe tyrant with the hope everything will return to whatever the old “normal” was. And that will take enormously competent leadership and a willingness to confront some of the absolutely irreconcilable foundational pieces that created America.

I’m an optimist and I generally side with the view that one should “never bet against America” (at least in the long run). I also know there are millions of good Americans who want desperately to reform and remodel their country into one that truly reflects the noble words in its founding documents. But the outcome is anything but certain.

Just sayin

G

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Is it five months? Or maybe six? Does it matter? I’ve lost count. But then, how should we measure them? The first person in B.C. with COVID 19 was reported on January 28, 2020. He was a traveller returning from Wuhan China, then the epicentre of the outbreak in the world. The first case of community transmission in B.C. (and Canada) was confirmed on March 5, 2020. So, depending upon how you calculate, the pandemic has been with us for either five or six months. At times it feels like five or six years and at others, just a few weeks. Everything is askew.

I have the good fortune to live in B.C. where the incidents of COVID 19 have been comparatively few and where the province has responded well and effectively. We are now in “Stage 3” of reopening with the understanding “Stage 4” can only happen when the pandemic is over. And many things seem the same as before. People are out and about although with an increasing number wearing masks. Most restaurants have re-opened offering both alfresco and indoor dining although with far fewer tables and precautions everywhere. The galleries and museums are open, again with precautions and limitations everywhere. Federal politicians have returned to their most comfortable mode, bashing each other. And the “boys of winter” have become the “boys of summer” as the very odd NHL season has begun in Edmonton and Toronto “bubbles”.

Everything should feel fine. But it doesn’t. There is always that dark, invisible cloud just hanging there, disrupting and limiting and constantly reminding us of our mortality unless, of course, you are one of the yahoos who decided Kelowna was a good place to party on the Canada Day weekend and promptly set off the worst outbreak in the province since the beginning of the pandemic.

Every day, every hour, every minute involves a micro calculation that includes the virus. Should I go or should I stay? Why is that person standing so close to me? What are the people clustered on the beach thinking? Did I wash my hands when I returned home or did I forget? Why should I always have to step off the sidewalk? Am I the only one taking this thing seriously?

Yesterday I arranged to meet a friend for lunch on a relatively crowded local commercial street. I walked and when I reached the street discovered that, while I had remembered my hand sanitizer, I had forgotten my mask which was sitting right next to the sanitizer. Panic. Total disorientation. Should I go back home and retrieve the mask? But then I would be late for the lunch. Would I be able to go into the one shop I needed? I proceeded with care, finding I was holding my breath when people passed too close to me and telling almost random strangers I had forgotten my mask, presumably so as to eliminate any thought I might be one of those most vile of people these days, an “anti masker”. How very odd. How utterly exhausting.

It’s been strange watching my friends respond and adapt to the pandemic. Most of us are in our seventies or older and I would have thought would share my (our?) deep concern about the possible effects on, well, me. But, oddly, some just haven’t seemed to read the memo, planning instead a cruise in the fall or an annual trip to Palm Springs in October, or looking for any way to evade the pervasive travel bans and restrictions. I’ve had conversations where I wonder if I am the only person following the news.

And then there are the others, those for whom no amount of restriction is enough, who demand the sainted Dr Henry (B.C.’s Provincial Medical Health Officer for those of you who have been on Mars for the last few months) take stronger action. I have vacillated on this. Some of you may remember I wrote a blog (seems like years ago) where I demanded masks be made mandatory in public spaces but, as the pandemic has progressed, I’ve been more and more able to let myself follow Dr Henry’s (largely voluntary advice) and feel it was taking us in the right direction. This is quite a change for me. Many, many years ago someone carved a sentence on one of the walls of the UBC Student Union Building that said “Geoff Holter has latent Stalinist tendencies” to which some of my friends at the time responded “latent??”, so there is a part of me that just wants the government to take a very hard and inflexible line. However, another part, says “follow the evidence” and the evidence would appear to support the largely voluntary measures in place in the province. Although the third largest province by population in Canada, B.C. has consistently had much lower rates of transmission than either Ontario or Quebec (or, for that matter, Alberta right next store to us) and that seems to be a result of a remarkable buy-in by most British Columbians to the “we’re all in this together” mantra, something that might not happen if the government was more directive.

Yes, the uptick in infections since entering Phase Three is worrying, although still modest against most other comparable jurisdictions and, with the exception of the Kelowna parties, don’t seem connected to lack of compliance. There are three outbreaks in B.C. right now, two community and one in a Long Term Care facility. One commuity outbreak is in a blueberry processing plant in the Fraser Valley and the other on Haida Gwaii affecting a native community. And the rate of hospitalizations remains astonishingly low, as does the number of deaths. Given we have been told our efforts to “flatten the curve” were all about ensuring we continued to have a functioning and effective healthcare system, that’s pretty impressive.

I know. I know. When we see groups of people ignoring the advice and, seemingly putting us all at risk, we feel outrage and the demands for something to be done rise but, so far at least, pretty much everything is under control here.

And then there are those dastardly Americans. You know, the ones who try to sneak into pristine, pure and virginal Canada despite the border being closed. Why last week one went so far as to crash his truck (stolen I believe) through a border station in the Kootenays. He then lit out on foot with the Canadian Border Service Agents in hot pursuit until he leapt on a log and floated down the Kettle River. In the end, as always, the Mounties got their man. He was arrested and returned to the custody of the Border Service Agents. I suspect there was more to this than him just wanting to sample the poutine up here though.

And what about the Americans pretending to be going to Alaska and, instead, visiting our national parks and lord knows what else!?. It’s become a bit of a national obsession. You know, spotting cars/vans/trailers with American license plates and then climbing onto social media to out them. I’ve noticed the photos of the vehicles are usually blurred which kind of reminds me of photographs of Sasquatch sightings over the years (but I digress).

Actually I suspect all this outrage is venting against, well, everything. It may not be healthy but it sure feels good at the time.

So, yes. I am exhausted. And I really, really want things to go back to whatever “normal” is. By the looks of it that isn”t going to happen for six to eight months and then only with some very good science and a bit of luck. In the meantime, keep slogging. Flatten the curve. Plank the curve. Do whatever you want with the damned curve as long as it doesn’t go up.

Also, an ice cold gin martini seems to help.

Just sayin

G

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When asked what I like most about New York I answer “everything”. Yes, everything. The incessant, irritating honking of taxis stuck in the never ending traffic jams; the rumble of the subway underfoot; the warm smells rising from grates across the sidewalks; the rushing crowds; the shouted voices; the smell of cooking nuts or meat floating from hundreds of tiny food carts scattered seemingly randomly across the city; the street fairs and markets that sprout up on weekends, making the already impossible traffic even worse; the massive Beaux-Arts knock offs that line some of its grandest boulevards; Grand Central Station; Three Lives Bookstore; the Strand; the fleeting glimpses into someone else’s world through the uncovered window of an elegant brownstone; the preening sky scrapers seemingly defying gravity; the silence when you step from the cacophany of the city into the tranquil, dark sanctuary of an old fashioned wood panelled bar; the never ending theatre of the subway, whether by buskers or just the beaten down inhabitants making their ways to or from work; that great miraculous green space, Central Park, in the midst of this giant petri dish of seething humanity; the Metropolitan Museum, the Guggehneim, MOMA, the Whitney, all of them actually; the quiet neighbourhoods that sit like sanctuaries, unchanged after a couple of centuries; the Brooklyn Bridge, the Empire State Building, the Chrysler Building; being jostled and carried along and cursed and smiled at and even occasionally “checked out” and flirted with.

Yes, everything.

But…if I had to choose one thing only, it would be “Broadway”. Not the street. New York theatre. All those great theatres that fill the tiny space of Manhattan from the Lower East Side to Washington Heights, with its densest few blocks in midtown mostly west of Times Square.

Many cities have theatre districts but none of them equals New York’s (yes, London’s West End comes close but it is very different).

I’ve never really analyzed why I so enjoy going to the theatre in New York but this time of pandemic and isolation and missing seems as good a time as any to do so. So what is it? The basic outlines are pretty prosaic. You arrive at a certain time, usually a bit early, and mingle with your fellow theatre goers on the street in front of the theatre, each of us grasping our precious ticket until, at about thirty minutes before curtain, the doors open and the uniformed ushers manage the surge as everyone moves to get in. You are directed to an area and then an aisle and then are led, often by an octogenarian lady in uniform who, it seems, has been doing this for a very long time, down to your row where, once you find your seat, you sit, although not for long because it is certain you will be asked to stand at least once to let other, later comers pass by you to their seats. There will be repeated apologies and usually a stale joke or two about arriving early/late (I’ve never figured out whether it’s more polite to stand and lean back or whether to turn my back to the passersby and lean forward, but I digress). Eventually things settle down although not before your hopes of moving to the better seat two rows down are dashed as a latecomer rushes in to claim it.

And then a mysterious force slowly enters the room as the crowd gradually goes quiet. We know. There is a an anouncement about photographs (don’t) and cell phones (turn them off…this a more recent feature) and then the lights go down. If there’s an orchestra in the pit someone, somewhere in front of you, will spot the conductor and begin the applause as he (usually he at least) makes his way to the podium where he takes a bow. The lights dim further.

An overture or just a rising curtain. Whichever. You are now transported to a world of suspended disbelief along with hundreds of strangers. A world of magic for adults. And for the next couple of hours, perhaps interrupted by an intermission, nothing else will matter but what is happening on the stage in front of you and through it, to you. There are protocols of course although some of them have changed over the years such as when to applaud. I remember when an audience would never applaud until a scene or maybe even an act was finished although, of late, audiences seem to applaud anytime the “star” or “stars” make their initial appearance causing the performance to pause briefly. The best rule is go with the crowd. While I’m on the subject, what’s with standing ovations? I used to be impressed by the approach of New York audiences as opposed to those in other cities I visited. A standing ovation only occurred for an absolutely outstanding performance. Now, it seems de rigueur which I think is a shame, but I digress (again).

I first visited New York in 1975. I had been warned. Oh, how I had been warned. Friends in Vancouver regaled me with terrible stories of murder and mayhem on the streets of New York. In fact, I fully expected if I went to 42nd Street I would likely die or, at least, be horribly maimed. Still, I went. The attraction was too great and, yes, New York in the seventies was not the nicest, safest place. I stayed at a hotel recommended by the late Hugh Pickett, the Vancouver Impressario extraordinaire. I think it was called “The Summit” and was near the United Nations. The first thing I did when I arrived was purchase a sturdy umbrella with a metal tip, expecting it could serve as a weapon when I was fending off the depradations of the muggers, murderers and lord knows who else. I also insisted on going everywhere in taxis and was incensed when a cabbie refused to take me two and half blocks, assuming my blood would be on his hands as I was forced to walk with my trusty umbrella. I was very careful and absolutely nothing bad happened to me, although a lot that was good did. I have been mugged three times in my life: once in Athens (roughed up); once in West Hollywood (gun) and once in San Francisco (switchblade) but never, never in New York despite my dozens, if not hundreds, of trips there, including some in my younger years where sensible precautions were usually ignored often to the horror of my New York friends.

The highlight of that first trip was when two friends from Philadelphia (one a professor at Temple and his partner, a priest) came to the city one evening. We had dinner and then went to a Broadway show. They had chosen the show and bought the tickets and I knew little about it. The play was “Private Lives” by Noel Coward, starring Maggie Smith and directed by John Gielgud. And I remember the exact moment I was hooked. Our seats were quite literally in “the gods”, so much so my hair (I had hair then) practically brushed the ceiling. I had the aisle seat and when Amanda recognizes Elyot, her ex-husband, while both are on their honeymoon, I started laughing so hard I was afraid I might tumble out and down the very steep staircase beside me (I’m not making this up. It was that steep). To this day I don’t know how Maggie Smith got from one side of the stage to the other without seeming to move at all.

Since that night, Broadway has always been part of my many New York visits. There have been too many great shows to name them all. The great musicals, whether “classics” like “Oklahoma”, “A Chorus Line”, “Follies”, “South Pacific”, “A Little Night Music”, “Hello Dolly”; or the darker ones like “Sunset Boulevard”, “The Three Penny Opera”, “Hedwig and the Angry Itch”; or the big brassy seventies and eighties shows like “Dreamgirls”, “Evita” (with the one and only Patti LuPone), “Miss Saigon”, “Les Miserables”, “La Cage aux Folles”, “Hairspray”, “Timbuktu” and, yes, “Cats”; or the “serious” ones like “Who’s Afraid of Virginia Woolf” (twice), “Torch Song Trilogy” (twice), “Angels in America”, “The Goat, or Who is Sylvia”, “Three Tall Women”, “The History Boys”, “A View from the Bridge”, “The Boys in the Band” (twice), “I Am My Own Wife”, “Grey Gardens”, “Doubt”; or unexpected beautiful surprises like “Farinelli and the King” and “The Band”; or the silly unexpected delights like “An Act of God” and “Something Rotten”.

I’ve enjoyed them all. Yup…all of them.

And so many great actors: Maggie Smith, Glen Close, Richard Burton, Elizabeth Taylor, Eartha Kitt, Jennifer Holiday, Jennifer Hudson, Glenda Jackson, Laurie Metcalf, Cherry Jones, Brian O’Bryrne, Patti LuPone, Angela Lansbury, Elaine Paige, Christine Ebersole, Marian Seldes, Bernadette Peters, Elaine Stritch, Harvey Fierstein, Carol Channing, Bette Midler, Mark Rylance and on and on and on. They have all enriched my life with their genius as they transported me to that magic place that, for adults at least, only live theatre can access.

And the moments that leave sharp, often funny, memories. Like the time I was in the front row for Eartha Kitt’s comeback to Broadway in “Timbuktu” only to find myself showered with spittle from the very moist Ms. Kitt; or the time I found myself sitting next to Julie Andrews (well, one seat over actually) for a matinee of “Lettuce and Lovage” (also starring Maggie Smith) ; or fearing Jennifer Holiday was going to end up in my lap just before they start dragging her back in the show stopper (“And I’m telling you I’m Not Going…) in “Dreamgirls” ; or listening to the young gay men in the audience at the remount of “Boys in the Band” at the Lucille Lortel marvel at what they’ve just seen and say things like “they’re so nasty to each other but so funny”, or watching a weight challenged Elizabeth Taylor struggling to rise from a chaise longue as Richard Burton stood beside her pawing the stage like a bull, or the performance of “Three Penny Opera” where Cindi Lauper took a note too low, realized she couldn’t get out of it, joked about it and started over again. All of them, quiet, simple, intimate moments with hundreds of “friends”; a kind of secret society open only to the privileged few who happened to be present at that exact moment. And that’s certainly one of the appeals: the uncertainty; the possibility something unusual or unscripted will happen and will result in a magical moment from a brilliant actor.

In the last few years when I’m in New York on my own I’ve started going to matinees. They have a different audience from the evening shows. Usually there are large parties of elderly ladies, many I suspect who have been bussed in from seniors’ residents in and around the city, and boy do they know their shows. Listening to conversations before the curtain goes up and at the intermission is one of the treats of being there as they compare this experience to earlier, legendary performances they witnessed.

And now the plague has shut the theatres and left me stranded four thousand miles away clinging to my memories. I’ll be back as soon as possible but, in the meantime, I leaf through old programs, some from 45 years ago, and try to relive the magic.

Just sayin

G

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It’s been nearly five years since Canadians tossed the Stephen Harper Conservatives out of office and replaced them with a seemingly rejuvenated Liberal Party under the leadership of Justin Trudeau. In those five years the Liberal government has had to wrestle with at least three quite unprecedented challenges: the election of Donald Trump and his threat to abrogate the North American Free Trade Agreement; the emergence of a truculent and aggressive China and a pandemic the likes of which Canada has not seen in a century. It has also attempted to balance the demands of Canadians wanting aggressive action on climate change and those dependent upon resource extraction, particularly in the oil and gas sector. It’s success on these files has been mixed but most Canadians likely give it a passing grade, particularly on the saving/renegotiation of NAFTA and its handling of the COVID 19 pandemic.

Despite these relative successes the Liberals were unable to repeat their 2015 majority in the 2019 election, finding themselves reduced to a minority government dependent on at least one of the Conservative Party, the NDP or the Bloc Quebecois. And, just as much of the credit for the successes lies at the feet of the Prime Minister, so does responsibility for the loss of the majority.

From the beginning there have been legitimate questions about Justin Trudeau’s judgement at least in so far as it relates to matters of conflict of interest. There have been two significant occasions when conflicts of interest have been found to exist: accepting an invitation to vacation with his family on the Aga Khan’s Caribbean island at a time when the Aga Khan had financial dealings with the federal government and the role the Prime Minister’s office played in the SNC Lavalin affair that resulted in the resignation of the then Minister of Justice and her subsequent expulsion from the Liberal caucus and party. In my earlier writings I have been clear that I do not sympathize with the former minister but equally that I was dismayed at the appallingly poor judgement of the Prime Minister and his Office on the matter.

And now it appears, we have a third potential conflict of interest: the role of the Prime Minister and his family with the WE/ME charity and business. Like most Canadians I suspect, I knew little about the WE organization until the latest revelations. I was aware that it seemed to come out of nowhere and its two founders, the brothers Craig and Marc Kielburger, were suddenly and unexpectedly showing up all over the place in Canada with opinion pieces and news. I had a vague understanding it attracted celebrities like Oprah and Prince Harry and Megan, and that the Trudeau’s also seemed to have some kind of a connection. But that was about it. And, as with so many seemingly similar such organizations or movements, I dismissed it as a passing fad, one more likely to be talked about on Ellen than making a real and lasting impact and certainly something I didn’t need to devote any attention to.

But with all this new attention I did a bit of digging and WE and it’s profit making affiliate does appear to be legitimate and has done a number of good things although with an evangelical zeal that leaves me cold but then I’m 71, not the teenagers who are its core demographic. As the press are reporting, the Trudeau family has strong ties to this organization and, despite earlier denials, has profited significantly from those ties. Specifically, the Prime Minister’s mother, Margaret, has been paid in excess of $300,000 for various appearances at WE events and his brother, Sacha, received in excess of $30,000 for similar appearances. Sophie Trudeau, the Prime Minister’s wife, received approximately $1400 for a single appearance prior to him becoming Prime Minister. Aside from the financial ties, however, there are clearly other connections including repeated appearances by the Prime Minister at WE functions and his wife in a continuing role as some kind of WE ambassador. While these events and activities do not seem to have involved any money, they clearly provide a benefit to both the Prime Minister and WE.

As part of its response to the COVID 19 pandemic the government announced in April that it would be creating a one billion dollar student grant program to assist students unable to find seasonal employment due to the economic collapse resulting from the pandemic. It was just one of a dizzying shower of programs and initiatives taken by the government as it responded to both the health and economic emergencies and, for most I suspect, it didn’t get much attention. Then in June the government announced the contract for administering the program would be given to WE. It didn’t take long before critics discovered the contract was a sole source contract so there was no competitive bidding for it and that the Prime Minister had not recused himself from the Cabinet discussions that led to its being awarded. Nor, for that matter, did the Finance Minister, Bill Morneau, who, we now learn, also has family connections to the charity. When challenged, the Prime Minister responded that WE was the only organization capable of managing the program and went so far as to claim that was supported by the recommendation of civil servants, although which civil servants is not yet clear. Nor, apparently, was the civil service itself considered capable of managing such a program, although why has yet to be explained.

As I noted above, WE’s initial response was to state flatly that no monies had been paid to the Prime Minister or his family, presumably relying on the belief the payments had come from it’s sister organization; sophistry worthy of the Prime Minister’s initial response to the SNC Lavalin controversy by the way. Then WE discovered there had been an “accounting error” and that some of the payments had indeed come from WE itself, something they assured us had been rectified retroactively. Finally, and I suspect not entirely of its own volition, WE withdrew from the contract, presumably leaving the administration of the grant program to the civil service that, only days earlier, we had been told was not competent for such a role.

That’s the basic outline of the issue so far although there are a number of other twists and turns they don’t seem to have an essential bearing on the claim of conflict of interest for the Prime Minister (and, perhaps, his Finance Minister). In fairly short order, the Conflict of Interest Commissioner opened an inquiry into the matter while, not unexpectedly, the attack dogs on the Conservative benches demanded the RCMP be brought in to conduct a criminal investigation.

If, as seems likely, a conflict is found this will be the third time there has been a finding that Prime Minister Trudeau ran afowl of the Conflict of Interest Guidelines and, perhaps, the law. At the risk of bringing the wrath of Oscar Wilde’s ghost down upon me, to parapharase Lady Bracknell: to commit one conflict of interest violation may be regarded as a misfortune; to commit two looks like carelessness. And now we have three.

Canada has been ruled by an elite for all of its one hundred and fifty three years. Even in the days prior to Confederation the two major provinces of Upper Canada (Ontario) and Lower Canada (Quebec) had ruling cliques that led to open rebellion in both colonies. Since Confederation it has generally been under the control of what we now call “the Laurentian Consensus” and its primary political vehicle has been, and is, the Liberal Party of Canada. And it is not without reason that party is often referred to as Canada’s Natural Governing Party. It’s not necessary to come from the geographic area in or near the Laurentians to be a part of the consensus but it is necessary to subscribe to a certain set of values and beliefs about Canada and its place in the world. And those values have informed Canada’s policies and laws for much of its history. From my perspective at least, many of the directions Canada has taken as a result have been good, although some, for example our relationship with the People’s Republic of China, less so. However, as with any such arrangement, pervasive elitism breeds contempt for those who have a different view.

Justin Trudeau is a fine exemplar of the Laurentian Consensus. The son of a Prime Minister and his wife, the daughter of a prominent and powerful Liberal Cabinet Minister, he obviously believes his values and behaviours are right and beyond reproach. And that is why he is constantly getting into trouble. It also explains his apparent inability to truly understand why everyone doesn’t agree with him and see why, despite the minor technicalities of law or standards, what he is doing is right and good.

While the idea of the Laurentian Consensus and the Liberal Party as it’s avatar sounds pretty benign, that party is also a ruthless and effective political machine when it comes to gaining and holding power. It’s long history tells us that the commitment to power supersedes all other considerations and can go so far as to remove a sitting Prime Minister from office. Whether those same rules apply to a Trudeau is yet to be seen.

I voted for Justin Trudeau in the last two elections, the first mostly motivated by my wish to be rid of the Harper Conservatives, and the second because of the lack of any credible alternative. Both votes were less than enthusiastic mostly because I distrusted the celebrity gloss and suspected the core values I would expect in a Prime Minister were somewhat lacking. I believe now that those reservations were well founded.

It is often said Justin Trudeau is following in his father’s footsteps. On February 28, 1984, Prime Minister Pierre Trudeau went for a famous walk in the snow during which he decided he would step down as Prime Minister. Perhaps it is time for his son to follow in those same footsteps.

just sayin

G

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Last week Canada lost its bid for a seat on the U.N. Security Council.  It was it’s second such loss in as many attempts and is prompting soul searching from the foreign affairs establishment that has controlled Canada’s foreign policy for aeons.

Not only was Canada defeated, it was resoundingly defeated by an even larger margin than before Justin Trudeau’s “Canada is back” announcement to the world in 2015.  And what’s worse, it was defeated by two tiny countries:  Norway and Ireland.  Norway, that little patch up by the European arctic with a population roughly equivalent to that of British Columbia but, it has to be conceded, enormous oil wealth that it has husbanded well (note to Alberta) that has allowed it to contribute foreign aid well beyond what its size would otherwise suggest.

And Ireland.  Ireland for god’s sake (as my Irish friends might say right now:  “Jesus, Mary, Joseph”); that tiny patch of disputatious green off the Atlantic coast of Britain. Apparently it contributes far more than Canada to peacekeeping, something one supposes it is particularly suited for given its history.  But Ireland?  I mean what has it given the world other than some decent whiskey, an occasional poet and, the bain of all English undergraduate students: “Finnegan’s Wake”?

I mean, how is this possible?  How could Canada the good, Canada the progressive, Canada the feminist, Canada the land of a million lakes and a thousand apologies, Canada that gave the world hockey and basketball and poutine and beavertails (don’t ask) possibly be shouldered aside by these two tiny, although admittedly virtuous, countries? We practically invented peacekeeping; helped found the U.N.; belong to the Group of Seven (not the painters you idjit) and are one of the richest and most virtuous countries on earth.  What’s next?  Luxembourg?  Monaco? Lichenstein?

Truly the centre cannot hold (oh dear, another Irish poet popping up just when I don’t need  him).

This all started when Justin Trudeau became Prime Minister, announced “Canada was back”, and rapidly tranformed our international image into that of a dillettante that is delighted to be on the front cover of Vogue (or was it Vanity Fair?).  I can’t help but think of Sally Field when she won her first Academy Award and said, in her acceptance speech, “they like me.  they really like me”.  How pathetic.

And so we began our campaign to get a seat on the Security Counsel five years hence. But it seems no matter how many unsavoury dictators we cozied up to; how many millions of dollars we threw at the campaign; how many crass behind the scenes promises were made; the world saw right through us.  All flash.

And so we begin the autopsy.  First up, various ambassadors humming and hawing (never quite sure what “hawing” was)  about the unfairness of it all.  Then the Minister of Foreign Affairs (you know, the one who owes China one and a half million dollars to maintain his two pads in London), vowing to leave no stone unturned as we examine the entrails of our defeat.  And finally the Prime Minister, offering bromides about the other candidates and vowing to continue Canada’s steadfast commitment to the U.N. despite now being the rejected suitor.  In fact, yesterday, a U.N. official helpfully suggested Canada should up its contributions to the U.N. to get a seat next time.  As if that was the appropriate goal.  Oh Canada.

I have a better idea.  How about not obsessing over why Canada lost as if the measure of our foreign policy is why the world doesn’t like us because, frankly, I don’t care whether the world likes or doesn’t like Canada except insofar as it affects the wellbeing of Canadians.  How about us having a hard conversation about what is in the best interest of Canada and Canadians whether in our dealings with other countries or our security here at home.

In case you haven’t noticed, a lot has changed out there in the big bad world, especially in the last six years.  Remember Brexit?  How about Donald Trump’s election and America abandoning its leadership of the west role?  Also, how the Poles and Hungarians and some of their neighbours, not to mention the Turks, no longer seem enamoured of our great democratic traditions?

And then, of course, there’s China, you know that country we had such deep and respectful relations with because of Norman Bethune and Pierre Trudeau; the same China that would, with modernization and prosperity, become more  liberal, more free, more respectful of human rights, more, well, like us.  Oh, you’ve noticed, that hasn’t happened?  Well then, why does the Prime Minister continue to grovel; his response to the news the two Michaels are being charged with espionage being an especially cringeworthy example of what not to do when dealing with a bully.

I guess it’s been kind of fun.  Lecturing the world.  Announcing how good, how virtuous we are.  You know, how Canada is the future.  Seeing ourselves portrayed flatteringly in American media, that final arbiter of importance and virtue for so many Canadians.  And all this with very little real investment.  Just a Prime Minister with good hair and a Cabinet composed of equal numbers of men and women.  “Because it’s 2016 (stupid)”. Giggle.  Yes, I’ll have another flute of that divine Sauvignon Blanc and maybe just one more of those tiny, delicious smoked appetizers based on an indigenous recipe smuggled out of Haida gwaii by the last white man to leave.

So, here we are.  Canada.  Stripped naked before the world.  Exposed as a fraud; a dilletante; a parvenu (look it up!) and, most irritating of all, a virtue signaller with little substance behind all those pretty words.

Time to get real Canada and invite the adults back into the room.

just sayin

g

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