[Thursday, June 19]
On Mr. Albert's recommendation, we drove to the other end of town, near the lighthouse, to Marsh's, a restaurant and dairy bar, which elsewhere might be called a seafood shack and ice cream stand. All the restaurants we've been to so far have been extremely simple rooms, with folding chairs, plastic table cloths, and Newfoundland tourism posters on the wall. The menus are all about the same. Everything is either deep-fried or pan-fried, everything comes with french fries and the spit-cup of coleslaw. There might be homemade pies on the menu, but there won't be anything resembling a vegetable or a salad. Not that I'm complaining. I always go with the flow; wherever I am, I eat what the locals eat. But Newfoundlanders must be the most unhealthy people in Canada. Most people are quite large, and everyone smokes.
After dinner we walked around the town a bit. There's a beautiful 1-kilometer boardwalk encircling a pond; the boardwalk is even accessible by ramp, and has gazebos and benches at intervals. Then we picked up a couple of beverages and sat on the porch of the B&B, overlooking the harbour. After a while Albert came by, made some small talk, then asked us if we wanted to see some of the town. Why not?
As we're leaving, Albert asks, "Did you see our snack?" He shows us three plates piled high with crab - huge snow crabs, legs 10 or 12 inches long. If you love seafood, as I do, this is a rare sight. We aren't sure what Albert means. Are we actually going to eat all that? Is he kidding?
On the subject of crabs, there's a factory in town that obviously has something to do with fish processing. Knowing the cod industry is no more, I asked Albert what they do at this plant. He says, "It's crab". Crab processing? Yes. Canned? Frozen? Albert says, "It's the damnedest thing. They used to take the crab and make a finished product and ship it directly to the States. Now they cut it into sections and freeze it, then it's shipped to China, the rest of the processing is done there, then it comes back here, and it's sold to the U.S. Product of Canada." Argh!
This ties in to so many conversations we've had at wmtc. It's awful for labour, for the environment and for our health. It also ties into what might be the only good thing the Harper Government ever does: the proposal for more honest food labelling. We'll have to see how that pans out, how much industry is allowed to interfere.
Albert drove us across town, back towards where we had dinner, then down a dirt road. Horses, cows and sheep were grazing on common pasture, a rare bit of farmland for this region. Past that is a provincial park called The Dungeon.
A platform overlooks a cove, where a rock is split into two tunnels. Waves are crashing all around and through them; it looks like something out of a pirate movie. There's some geological information on how it was formed, and how the rock will one day look like the stand-alone outcroppings that dot the coastline. Albert says, "Come on, how would anyone know how old a rock is?"
This is one of the most rugged coastlines I have ever seen - jagged rocks, waves crashing, all sharp outlines. There's something very stirring about it, a kind of wild beauty.
From there we drive over to the lighthouse, where Albert says thousands of puffins will be coming in from their day at sea, but it's fogged in.
On the way back, Albert shows us some local landmarks, including a Catholic church that holds 1400 people: "The only time it was ever full was when I buried my son". He was 13 years old. He went to a hockey tournament on a Friday, and was dead by Saturday, drowned in a hotel pool in St. John's.
There wasn't much time for sympathy; Albert wanted us to know, but then quickly changed the subject. After some question of mine, he said, "Before 1949 we were under British rule, you know. Then we joined Canada, the best decision we ever made." I said I had heard a lot of people opposed Confederation. "It was 49% to 51% but thank goodness we come out on top. I think Canada is one of the greatest countries in the world." This prompted me to tell him we chose to live in Canada over the U.S. To which he said: "Strange."
This made Albert think of the war (funny how that works!), and he told us he is against Canada's presence in Afghanistan. "What are we doing there anyway? I wouldn't send my son there, so why should I ask anyone else to send their own?" I asked if he thought other people in the area felt this way. He said, "Ninety percent! We all oppose it. But that's our government for you."
Albert was born in the house we are staying in, and except for eight years in Ontario working on the Canadian Pacific Railroad, has lived in Central Newfoundland all his life. Bonavista has had about the same population the whole time, about 5,000 people, although now about 650 young people are off working in Alberta. Last year in Bonavista, 36 new homes were built, mostly vacation homes for Americans.
We get home and Albert says, "Let's go eat some crab, eh?"
Inside, he puts down a plastic table cloth, then a green garbage bag on top of that, pulls over a giant plate of snow crabs, picks up a huge knife and starts hacking away. He shows us how to use the backs of our forks to scoop out the meat, then keeps hacking with the knife, tossing pieces on the table in front of us. We're eating and he's cutting, and he's also pulling out choice bits and putting them on a plate to give to his wife when she comes later.
We ate a mountain of crab. A mountain. And it is the freshest, sweetest, most delicious crab I have ever eaten.
Albert says he's been doing this every night for 11 years. When crabs are not in season, there is shrimp. The men who catch the crabs get only $1.50 per pound, and they are weighed and checked, so no one can take home a crab without a reduction in his quota. But Albert has "some friends on the boats", and he always has crab.
I told Albert the guidebook says the B&B has "a late-night snack", and we thought there might be a glass of milk and a cookie. He says, "I'll close up before I do that!"
Then Albert's wife comes in, Florence Albert. She puts the kettle on and says she has fresh bakeapple tarts. Albert makes toast and starts slathering it with jam. The jam is partridgeberry, which tastes similar to cranberry. Bakeapples are also berries, not crab apples as I thought. Albert shows us what the berries look like and how they are picked.
Florence puts down tarts dolloped with sweet cream, plus some other kind of cookie with coconut marshmallows inside. So now we're drinking mugs of tea and eating desserts at 11:00 at night, after eating a full dinner, including ice cream, not five hours earlier. We hang out with Albert and Florence for a while, and it feels more like sitting in a friends' kitchen than staying in a hotel.
They tell us it's a rare night that they're not fully booked, and indeed the next night they are full again, so we were very lucky to have this private little treat to ourselves.
Most of their guests have been from either Ontario or BC. "Where are you from in Ontario?" "Mississauga." "Is there anyone left in Mississauga? They're all here!" We've heard this from several people already: that a huge preponderance of Newfoundland tourism right now is from Ontario. I'm so glad to hear it, as it contradicts my impression that Canadians don't seem to travel much, and especially don't travel within Canada.
Albert also says we're probably too early for whales, but reminds me that you really never know. You can see them any time from May to September, so June is still possible.
Pictures of Bonavista are here.
6.21.2008
cape spear to bonavista
[Thursday, June 19]
We were out very early on Thursday morning, but thanks to some very poorly written directions in a guidebook, we got completely lost (twice) on the way to Cape Spear. And when we finally got there, it was completely fogged in. We could just barely make out the outline of the lighthouse on the cliffs above us. But we hiked out to the point marked "Most Easterly Point in North America".
Despite the fog, I was very glad to be there. On a trip to England in 1985 (a few months before I met Allan), I traveled by myself to Land's End in Penzance, the most westerly point in Europe. As soon as we decided to go to Newfoundland, I wanted to stand on its easterly counterpoint. And even with the fog, it was dramatic, high on the cliffs with the waves crashing on the rocks below. The World War II gun battlement is still there, and some underground rooms from that time.
We hiked around the cliffs for a while, then went up to the lighthouse. We didn't go into the lighthouse because of the fog, and because we knew we'd have other chances later on. But on a tip from a friendly park ranger - a redundancy, I have never met a park ranger who was anything but friendly and helpful - I went into the coast guard building, which now serves as an art gallery.
As I walked in the little building, a uniformed man approached me and said something... but what? What language was he speaking? I blinked at him dumbly; I think I said, "Sorry?" He repeated himself. Still nothing. Round about the fourth or fifth sentence, I realized he was speaking English! This was an accent like nothing I have ever heard. Once I got used to it, I could understand most of what he said. (I don't know what part of Newfoundland he is from, because no one else has sounded like that yet!)
This art gallery was more story than art. Some 25 years ago, a Newfoundland man painted every lighthouse on the island, then donated the paintings to the Coast Guard Alumni Association. The paintings are now used as part of an art program for Canadian school children, who come to the lighthouse to sketch them. There's a competition, and several winners are awarded art kits. (I saw a sample, they're terrific.)
The paintings themselves were not special as art, but I had a lovely time hearing wild anecdotes about them and the people who tended them. (That is, the parts of the stories I could understand.) Beneath each painting was a small plaque showing the outline of Newfoundland, with a star marking the location of that lighthouse, with the lighthouse's stats. It was fun, but the best part was the man's accent.
From there we found the Trans-Canada Highway, and the driving was much faster than we expected. We had heard that it might be slow going on many Newfoundland roads, and perhaps that will be true, but the one big highway that runs east-west across the province is a smooth, fast road. The highway was almost empty, and we breezed along.
The road cuts through rocky outcroppings, sometimes beautiful green hills, but often just rugged, jagged rock. The hills are too steep to be called rolling - you're really climbing and diving - and occasionally you catch a glimpse of lakes, bays or inlets. It's a fierce, rugged beauty. You can see right away why everyone lived on the coast through most of Newfoundland's history, with the interior settled only in modern times. It looks completely inhospitable. You also see why it's called The Rock.
Here are some towns we passed on our way: Come By Chance, Doody Bay, Great Mosquito, Dildo, Goobies. There are hundreds of towns named Something Cove: Tickle Cove, Lady Cove, Lance Cove, Ochre Cove, Pelican Cove, on and on. And about a hundred more named Something Harbour.
At Clarenville we turned off the TCH onto the Bonavista Peninsula, and even this smaller, more rural road was still easy driving. We thought we'd call some bed-and-breakfasts on our way out to Bonavista, but I had no cell phone service.
On the Bonavista Peninsula, we stopped in Trinity, an historic town, and where the movie "The Shipping News" was filmed. The town is postcard beautiful, full of richly painted saltbox houses and churches. To say Trinity is sleepy is understatement: it was comatose. We saw a half-dozen "for sale" signs, and thought it must be very sad, the death of a lovely historic town. We later learned that Trinity mostly exists for tourism only now. People come a few weeks before the start of the season to open the B&Bs, then close up and leave after the tourists go home.
Driving into Bonavista, we found a tourist information booth staffed by a young, friendly, completely unknowledgeable person. But she was able to call our first-choice B&B, which turned out to be right next door, and they had a vacancy. Our host, Ryan Albert (known as "Halpert" in the town dialect) was friendly and talkative, but little did we know he's a town character. The guidebook said the B&B serves a full breakfast and an evening snack, and Albert told us we'd have "lunch" around 9:30 or 10:00 p.m. Mark my words.
Pictures of Trinity are here.
We were out very early on Thursday morning, but thanks to some very poorly written directions in a guidebook, we got completely lost (twice) on the way to Cape Spear. And when we finally got there, it was completely fogged in. We could just barely make out the outline of the lighthouse on the cliffs above us. But we hiked out to the point marked "Most Easterly Point in North America".
Despite the fog, I was very glad to be there. On a trip to England in 1985 (a few months before I met Allan), I traveled by myself to Land's End in Penzance, the most westerly point in Europe. As soon as we decided to go to Newfoundland, I wanted to stand on its easterly counterpoint. And even with the fog, it was dramatic, high on the cliffs with the waves crashing on the rocks below. The World War II gun battlement is still there, and some underground rooms from that time.
We hiked around the cliffs for a while, then went up to the lighthouse. We didn't go into the lighthouse because of the fog, and because we knew we'd have other chances later on. But on a tip from a friendly park ranger - a redundancy, I have never met a park ranger who was anything but friendly and helpful - I went into the coast guard building, which now serves as an art gallery.
As I walked in the little building, a uniformed man approached me and said something... but what? What language was he speaking? I blinked at him dumbly; I think I said, "Sorry?" He repeated himself. Still nothing. Round about the fourth or fifth sentence, I realized he was speaking English! This was an accent like nothing I have ever heard. Once I got used to it, I could understand most of what he said. (I don't know what part of Newfoundland he is from, because no one else has sounded like that yet!)
This art gallery was more story than art. Some 25 years ago, a Newfoundland man painted every lighthouse on the island, then donated the paintings to the Coast Guard Alumni Association. The paintings are now used as part of an art program for Canadian school children, who come to the lighthouse to sketch them. There's a competition, and several winners are awarded art kits. (I saw a sample, they're terrific.)
The paintings themselves were not special as art, but I had a lovely time hearing wild anecdotes about them and the people who tended them. (That is, the parts of the stories I could understand.) Beneath each painting was a small plaque showing the outline of Newfoundland, with a star marking the location of that lighthouse, with the lighthouse's stats. It was fun, but the best part was the man's accent.
From there we found the Trans-Canada Highway, and the driving was much faster than we expected. We had heard that it might be slow going on many Newfoundland roads, and perhaps that will be true, but the one big highway that runs east-west across the province is a smooth, fast road. The highway was almost empty, and we breezed along.
The road cuts through rocky outcroppings, sometimes beautiful green hills, but often just rugged, jagged rock. The hills are too steep to be called rolling - you're really climbing and diving - and occasionally you catch a glimpse of lakes, bays or inlets. It's a fierce, rugged beauty. You can see right away why everyone lived on the coast through most of Newfoundland's history, with the interior settled only in modern times. It looks completely inhospitable. You also see why it's called The Rock.
Here are some towns we passed on our way: Come By Chance, Doody Bay, Great Mosquito, Dildo, Goobies. There are hundreds of towns named Something Cove: Tickle Cove, Lady Cove, Lance Cove, Ochre Cove, Pelican Cove, on and on. And about a hundred more named Something Harbour.
At Clarenville we turned off the TCH onto the Bonavista Peninsula, and even this smaller, more rural road was still easy driving. We thought we'd call some bed-and-breakfasts on our way out to Bonavista, but I had no cell phone service.
On the Bonavista Peninsula, we stopped in Trinity, an historic town, and where the movie "The Shipping News" was filmed. The town is postcard beautiful, full of richly painted saltbox houses and churches. To say Trinity is sleepy is understatement: it was comatose. We saw a half-dozen "for sale" signs, and thought it must be very sad, the death of a lovely historic town. We later learned that Trinity mostly exists for tourism only now. People come a few weeks before the start of the season to open the B&Bs, then close up and leave after the tourists go home.
Driving into Bonavista, we found a tourist information booth staffed by a young, friendly, completely unknowledgeable person. But she was able to call our first-choice B&B, which turned out to be right next door, and they had a vacancy. Our host, Ryan Albert (known as "Halpert" in the town dialect) was friendly and talkative, but little did we know he's a town character. The guidebook said the B&B serves a full breakfast and an evening snack, and Albert told us we'd have "lunch" around 9:30 or 10:00 p.m. Mark my words.
Pictures of Trinity are here.
we are still here, will be catching up soon
We've been without internet access or cell phone for several days - inconvenient, irritating, relaxing and refreshing at the same time. But we're online tonight, and I'm planning on getting my travel journal all caught up, plus posting a few resister-related videos.
In a word: Newfoundland is amazing. More soon.
In a word: Newfoundland is amazing. More soon.
6.19.2008
wednesday night in st. john's
We did make it out last night. First we stopped in the Duke of Duckworth, which would pass muster in any village in Ireland or England. I adore pubs - New York doesn't really have them, and it's something I love about Toronto - and I can see Newfoundland will deliver on this score. We had a pint and hung out a bit, then headed for The Ship, which I heard was the best pub in town, and had music every night.
Walking into The Ship, we were quite surprised to see a gentleman on the small stage, quite senior, sitting in a chair, singing an a capella ballad. I'd say it was an Irish ballad, but not quite: it was a Newfoundland song. There was a sizeable crowd - it's a small room, but it was full - and they were rapt, hanging on every word. We grabbed two bar stools and listened.
The man spun off ballad after ballad, each one a little world unto itself. The songs followed the standard conventions (although I had never heard any of them), and on several the crowd chanted along with the chorus.
When he finished, an emcee came up, and we gathered this was some kind of open-mic folk night. A dreadful storyteller was up next, so I was able to learn from the bartender that Wednesday is folk night at The Ship. We were sorry we hadn't come earlier, although after that last story, perhaps it's just as well.
Next up, a younger man took the stage, doing ballads similar to the older man's songs, but with modern lyrics that he had written himself. He had a good voice and a nice presence; I thought he was quite good. In between ballads, he picked up a concertina - a little squeeze box - and played a few reels. I don't know if either of my accordion-loving blog-friends still read wmtc, but they would have appreciated it.
The music soon wrapped up, but I was really happy to have found it even for a short while. I don't yet know the differences between Newfoundland music and Irish music, but perhaps I'll find out on this trip. There are several kinds of American music that use Irish sounds, but none sound as Irish as this.
We had another pint and chatted with the bartender, who is from Twillingate and wanted to make sure we were going there. To "where are you folks from", I've decided to say "Ontario". It seems to be enough information.
St. John's itself seems like a lovely town. Duckworth Street is lively with pubs, shops and restaurants, some very upscale and smart-looking. Newfoundland tourism information is trying to sell St. John's as having newly sophisticated dining, and from the look of it, I'd say there's been a concerted effort to cultivate that.
It's wonderfully refreshing to be somewhere without all the same old chain stores and logos. This is a constant theme for me; the homogenization of New York City had been bothering me for years before we left, and I certainly live in the midst of that now. When we travel, I love to go places that are free or nearly free of that scourge. That was one thing I loved about Ireland - it was all independent bookstores, cafes, pubs; nary a Starbucks or Gap in sight. St. John's has a couple of fast food chains at one end of Duckworth Street, but seems largely untouched by the scourge of chain-stores and corporate logos.
From the harbor, St. John's rises up a steep hill. The main streets are semi-circles, and there are lanes with steps connecting the streets, like passageways. Very inaccessible, but very pretty. On many streets, the house fronts are painted in varying rich colours - exactly like towns in Ireland. It's a beautiful effect, especially in a place which is often overcast and gray.
Now we're bound for Cape Spear, then towards the Bonavista Peninsula. Thanks for reading, hope you are all well.
Walking into The Ship, we were quite surprised to see a gentleman on the small stage, quite senior, sitting in a chair, singing an a capella ballad. I'd say it was an Irish ballad, but not quite: it was a Newfoundland song. There was a sizeable crowd - it's a small room, but it was full - and they were rapt, hanging on every word. We grabbed two bar stools and listened.
The man spun off ballad after ballad, each one a little world unto itself. The songs followed the standard conventions (although I had never heard any of them), and on several the crowd chanted along with the chorus.
When he finished, an emcee came up, and we gathered this was some kind of open-mic folk night. A dreadful storyteller was up next, so I was able to learn from the bartender that Wednesday is folk night at The Ship. We were sorry we hadn't come earlier, although after that last story, perhaps it's just as well.
Next up, a younger man took the stage, doing ballads similar to the older man's songs, but with modern lyrics that he had written himself. He had a good voice and a nice presence; I thought he was quite good. In between ballads, he picked up a concertina - a little squeeze box - and played a few reels. I don't know if either of my accordion-loving blog-friends still read wmtc, but they would have appreciated it.
The music soon wrapped up, but I was really happy to have found it even for a short while. I don't yet know the differences between Newfoundland music and Irish music, but perhaps I'll find out on this trip. There are several kinds of American music that use Irish sounds, but none sound as Irish as this.
We had another pint and chatted with the bartender, who is from Twillingate and wanted to make sure we were going there. To "where are you folks from", I've decided to say "Ontario". It seems to be enough information.
St. John's itself seems like a lovely town. Duckworth Street is lively with pubs, shops and restaurants, some very upscale and smart-looking. Newfoundland tourism information is trying to sell St. John's as having newly sophisticated dining, and from the look of it, I'd say there's been a concerted effort to cultivate that.
It's wonderfully refreshing to be somewhere without all the same old chain stores and logos. This is a constant theme for me; the homogenization of New York City had been bothering me for years before we left, and I certainly live in the midst of that now. When we travel, I love to go places that are free or nearly free of that scourge. That was one thing I loved about Ireland - it was all independent bookstores, cafes, pubs; nary a Starbucks or Gap in sight. St. John's has a couple of fast food chains at one end of Duckworth Street, but seems largely untouched by the scourge of chain-stores and corporate logos.
From the harbor, St. John's rises up a steep hill. The main streets are semi-circles, and there are lanes with steps connecting the streets, like passageways. Very inaccessible, but very pretty. On many streets, the house fronts are painted in varying rich colours - exactly like towns in Ireland. It's a beautiful effect, especially in a place which is often overcast and gray.
Now we're bound for Cape Spear, then towards the Bonavista Peninsula. Thanks for reading, hope you are all well.
6.18.2008
st. john's / witless bay
This morning we headed south on the Avalon Peninsula to the beautifully named Witless Bay Ecological Reserve, hoping to see icebergs, whales and birds. (Newfoundland is famous for its place names. The Avalon Peninsula alone sports towns called Dildo, Heart's Content and Tickle Cove, among many others.)
Witless Bay is a group of four rocky islands just off the shore, about 25 kms south of St. John's. On our way down, as soon as we spotted the bay, we could see a few icebergs from the road. It's really a surprise the first time you spot them - shining white and bright blue in the middle of the bay.
We had some trouble finding a boat tour operator, and now we realize that's because many of the smaller ones haven't opened for business yet. We're a little ahead of the tourist season. We followed a sign down to a dock, but it seemed deserted, although there was a boat in the water.
We asked at a nearby coffee shop, and the owner said she'd ring them up. She made a call, put me on the phone. Another woman gave me a man's name and number and told me to call him. Everyone was super-friendly, but it was a bit mysterious, like I was arranging some sort of shady deal.
The man who I called asked how many people we were, and could we wait an hour, which was perfect, since we were in a coffee shop and hungry. As it turns out, the guys who run this boat-tour company are carpenters all year, and they take off July and August to do the tours. One of them left work to come over and get us.
We had a lunch in an adorable little place, with huge windows overlooking the bay. You could see icebergs in the bay, and the islands that form the Witless Bay Reserve.
After we ate, we met a guy named Ray on the dock. He gave us big orange jumpsuits that double as insulation and life preserver, which we wrestled on over our clothes. It was a beautiful day - sparkling sun and calm water. It was just Ray driving the boat and us, an open boat that seats maybe 6 or 8, tops. That's the upside of traveling a off-season.
I know it should be no surprise, but Ray sounded like a stereotype of a Newfie. I would almost think he was someone putting on a Newfie accent. It took me a couple of minutes to get used to it, but it's a great sound. I hear the Celtic in it, and also bits of New England.
First we went out to the icebergs, which are closer than the islands. They're so beautiful! We saw icebergs in Alaska, but that was a very different setting, an ice cove with huge walls and shelves of ice. Seeing these miniature ice mountains floating out in the middle of a bay, ringed by houses, boats and greenery all around, was pretty amazing. Ray told us that a few months earlier, the whole bay would be full of icebergs, changing size and shape as they flow south, melting and breaking up along the way.
Ray also said we were early for whales, that whales usually begin to be seen in Witless Bay and the St. John's area in early July, often lasting until September. He described the bay full of all kinds of whales, to the point where you can see them from land. Several people and guidebooks said whales can be seen from June to September, so I'm trying to not get too disappointed yet. But if I go home without seeing whales, I will be.
After driving around the icebergs for a while, we headed out towards the islands. They are rocky outcroppings with some scrubby grass and shrubs, but as you approach them you realize the rocks are completely covered in birds. Thousands - hundreds of thousands! - of birds.
There are mainly puffins, kittiwakes (a kind of gull) and murres. The murres are beautiful - they look like miniature penguins.
Ray was knowledgeable about the birds, their habits, who eats what, who is seen when. There are no other land animals on these islands - the birds' natural predators are other birds, such as eagles (who don't nest there but come to feed) and gulls. We could see hundreds of nests, as well as holes that are the openings to puffins' underground nests. They are all mostly marine birds, and only come on land to mate and breed.
During World War II the bird population declined from all the oil in the water, and in the 1950s there were only a few thousand left, total. But the islands have been protected since 1962, when the population started to grow again. They've also benefited from the collapse of the fishing industry in the early 1990s: birds used to get caught in the nets. Now they are all thriving.
On every rock ledge, on every crevice and nook, there is a bird. Thick clouds of birds fly near the rocks. And all along the surface of the water, low flying birds are splashing the water. You hear hundreds of little thwacks as their wings flutter on the surface.
We drove past all four islands, getting very close to the rocks so we had a very good view. We spotted one gull with a few chicks - tiny fluffy grey balls with legs, wobbling on the rocks. Later on there will be thousands of chicks, and hundreds of other birds trying to eat them.
Before the islands were protected, locals hunted the birds all the time, and also gathered their eggs. Ray said now there are two times a year when hunting is permitted, with strict limits. He said locals eat murres, which they call ters (sp?). "We got a different name for all de birds." I asked him what the bird is like to eat. He said the old joke is you put the ter in the oven with a beach rock. Bake it for four hours, when it's done, throw the bird out and eat the rock, it will be more tender.
To me the most notable part of this bird reserve was the sheer number of birds. Several times we thought we were looking at gravel or striated rock, only to realize it was actually a huge crowd of birds.
On the way back, Ray regaled us with stories of the bay full of whales. Ah well. Here's hoping.
After the boat ride, on Ray's recommendation, we drove further south, to La Manche Provincial Park. We hiked down a flat, wooded trail next to a marshy lake. We saw a sizeable beaver dam and tracks that must have been moose, and eventually came to a waterfall, but we never found our supposed destination. There used to be a remote fishing village here, until it was washed away by a tidal surge. The government helped people relocate, but there are remains of the village and an old bridge, somewhere on the trail. We never found it, but we had a nice hike without it.
We were starved by this time, and stopped at a roadside place for - what else? - fried seafood. This will clearly be the mainstay of our eating habits here.
I think we're going to a pub tonight to hear music, although Allan is sleeping right now. (You can't imagine how many sentences I can end that way.) Tomorrow morning we'll visit Cape Spear before heading towards Clarenville on our way to the Bonavista Peninsula.
Random note I forgot to post yesterday. In the Signal Hill visitors' centre, I learned that St. John's was attacked by German U-boats on more than one occasion, including the sinking of a passenger ferry. Canadian readers probably all know that, but I don't think I knew that U-boats had ever actually fired on North America. I found that quite amazing - both that it happened and that I didn't know!
Pictures of Witless Bay are here.
Witless Bay is a group of four rocky islands just off the shore, about 25 kms south of St. John's. On our way down, as soon as we spotted the bay, we could see a few icebergs from the road. It's really a surprise the first time you spot them - shining white and bright blue in the middle of the bay.
We had some trouble finding a boat tour operator, and now we realize that's because many of the smaller ones haven't opened for business yet. We're a little ahead of the tourist season. We followed a sign down to a dock, but it seemed deserted, although there was a boat in the water.
We asked at a nearby coffee shop, and the owner said she'd ring them up. She made a call, put me on the phone. Another woman gave me a man's name and number and told me to call him. Everyone was super-friendly, but it was a bit mysterious, like I was arranging some sort of shady deal.
The man who I called asked how many people we were, and could we wait an hour, which was perfect, since we were in a coffee shop and hungry. As it turns out, the guys who run this boat-tour company are carpenters all year, and they take off July and August to do the tours. One of them left work to come over and get us.
We had a lunch in an adorable little place, with huge windows overlooking the bay. You could see icebergs in the bay, and the islands that form the Witless Bay Reserve.
After we ate, we met a guy named Ray on the dock. He gave us big orange jumpsuits that double as insulation and life preserver, which we wrestled on over our clothes. It was a beautiful day - sparkling sun and calm water. It was just Ray driving the boat and us, an open boat that seats maybe 6 or 8, tops. That's the upside of traveling a off-season.
I know it should be no surprise, but Ray sounded like a stereotype of a Newfie. I would almost think he was someone putting on a Newfie accent. It took me a couple of minutes to get used to it, but it's a great sound. I hear the Celtic in it, and also bits of New England.
First we went out to the icebergs, which are closer than the islands. They're so beautiful! We saw icebergs in Alaska, but that was a very different setting, an ice cove with huge walls and shelves of ice. Seeing these miniature ice mountains floating out in the middle of a bay, ringed by houses, boats and greenery all around, was pretty amazing. Ray told us that a few months earlier, the whole bay would be full of icebergs, changing size and shape as they flow south, melting and breaking up along the way.
Ray also said we were early for whales, that whales usually begin to be seen in Witless Bay and the St. John's area in early July, often lasting until September. He described the bay full of all kinds of whales, to the point where you can see them from land. Several people and guidebooks said whales can be seen from June to September, so I'm trying to not get too disappointed yet. But if I go home without seeing whales, I will be.
After driving around the icebergs for a while, we headed out towards the islands. They are rocky outcroppings with some scrubby grass and shrubs, but as you approach them you realize the rocks are completely covered in birds. Thousands - hundreds of thousands! - of birds.
There are mainly puffins, kittiwakes (a kind of gull) and murres. The murres are beautiful - they look like miniature penguins.
Ray was knowledgeable about the birds, their habits, who eats what, who is seen when. There are no other land animals on these islands - the birds' natural predators are other birds, such as eagles (who don't nest there but come to feed) and gulls. We could see hundreds of nests, as well as holes that are the openings to puffins' underground nests. They are all mostly marine birds, and only come on land to mate and breed.
During World War II the bird population declined from all the oil in the water, and in the 1950s there were only a few thousand left, total. But the islands have been protected since 1962, when the population started to grow again. They've also benefited from the collapse of the fishing industry in the early 1990s: birds used to get caught in the nets. Now they are all thriving.
On every rock ledge, on every crevice and nook, there is a bird. Thick clouds of birds fly near the rocks. And all along the surface of the water, low flying birds are splashing the water. You hear hundreds of little thwacks as their wings flutter on the surface.
We drove past all four islands, getting very close to the rocks so we had a very good view. We spotted one gull with a few chicks - tiny fluffy grey balls with legs, wobbling on the rocks. Later on there will be thousands of chicks, and hundreds of other birds trying to eat them.
Before the islands were protected, locals hunted the birds all the time, and also gathered their eggs. Ray said now there are two times a year when hunting is permitted, with strict limits. He said locals eat murres, which they call ters (sp?). "We got a different name for all de birds." I asked him what the bird is like to eat. He said the old joke is you put the ter in the oven with a beach rock. Bake it for four hours, when it's done, throw the bird out and eat the rock, it will be more tender.
To me the most notable part of this bird reserve was the sheer number of birds. Several times we thought we were looking at gravel or striated rock, only to realize it was actually a huge crowd of birds.
On the way back, Ray regaled us with stories of the bay full of whales. Ah well. Here's hoping.
After the boat ride, on Ray's recommendation, we drove further south, to La Manche Provincial Park. We hiked down a flat, wooded trail next to a marshy lake. We saw a sizeable beaver dam and tracks that must have been moose, and eventually came to a waterfall, but we never found our supposed destination. There used to be a remote fishing village here, until it was washed away by a tidal surge. The government helped people relocate, but there are remains of the village and an old bridge, somewhere on the trail. We never found it, but we had a nice hike without it.
We were starved by this time, and stopped at a roadside place for - what else? - fried seafood. This will clearly be the mainstay of our eating habits here.
I think we're going to a pub tonight to hear music, although Allan is sleeping right now. (You can't imagine how many sentences I can end that way.) Tomorrow morning we'll visit Cape Spear before heading towards Clarenville on our way to the Bonavista Peninsula.
Random note I forgot to post yesterday. In the Signal Hill visitors' centre, I learned that St. John's was attacked by German U-boats on more than one occasion, including the sinking of a passenger ferry. Canadian readers probably all know that, but I don't think I knew that U-boats had ever actually fired on North America. I found that quite amazing - both that it happened and that I didn't know!
Pictures of Witless Bay are here.
6.17.2008
st. john's
We were up at 5:00 for our 7:30 flight, which was an uneventful not-quite three hours. In Pearson, I saw a newspaper over a man's shoulder, with a headline reading "send him back to pay his dues". I did a double-take, and realized it was the National Post (for non-Canadian readers: a right-wing rag), a dueling viewpoint they have already run online, Corey Glass vs. columnist Jonathan Kay. The man reading and his wife noticed we were talking about them, so I asked what paper it was and explained I was involved in the issue. As we were getting ready to board, the woman asked if I wanted the paper. As he was giving me the section, the man was eager to tell me that it gave "both sides of the story," in a way that told us where he stood. After all, he is reading the Post. But I called the Campaign - at least we have a hard copy of it now. Allan says we'll see them in Gros Morne; he's calling it now.
The airport is not far from downtown, and we drove right in and found our hotel. On our way there, we drove through the main drag of downtown St. John's, Duckworth Street. I noticed the two pubs my Newfie Campaign Friend recommended, one that has live music every night.
The hotel is a "Hometel" - rooms in brownstone houses. It's a much nicer room that we expected, stylish and comfy, with free phone, internet, parking and a hot breakfast. It's right at the base of Signal Hill.
After getting settled in a bit, we went downtown for lunch at a pub - fish and chips, of course. I have no idea if the fish actually comes from here anymore, but it seems like the thing to do. We also had local beer, Quidi Vidi (pronounced "Kiddy Viddy"). My pan-fried cod came with "scrunchions," which are diced bits of fried pork rinds. Kind of like salty fried fat.
From there we drove up Signal Hill, which overlooks St. John's Harbour, with the city on one side and the Atlantic on the other. The approach to the harbour is a narrows, with cliffs rising on both side; it's easy to see why this was such an important strategic point.
I thought Signal Hill got its name because it's the spot where Marconi received the first Transatlantic radio signal, but the signalling dates much farther back, to the signal flags (a redundancy, I think - the flags were called signals) that were raised to communicate from ship to shore. There's a little look-out building that looks like a mini-castle, and the remains of the fort, powder magazine and cannons. This is all perched on high cliffs, the kind you always see in photos of Newfoundland. It reminded us both of Ireland.
The whole point is a national park, and there are trails along the cliffs. We walked some, mostly to get good views. It's a great view of St. John's. The building where Marconi received that radio signal is gone (burned in a fire), but there's a plaque marking the spot.
We were tired and not up for a big hike, but on the way out of Signal Hill, we stopped at the visitor's centre, which was very nice. It tells the history of the hill in terms of its military and communications significance. And guess who we saw there? The National Post readers from the airport in Toronto. They didn't see us. Gros Morne? We'll see.
From there we went back downtown for coffee, then we were going to hang out in a pub, but suddenly realized how tired we were. We picked up some food and went back to the room, thinking we would join tonight's Red Sox game in progress on our computers. It was 7:30; game time is at 7:00. But our laptops said 6:00. Duh: time zone! We're on Newfoundland time, and we didn't miss a pitch. Pub tomorrow night, tonight we're crashed.
* * * *
People here are extremely friendly, as advertised. If this is what they're like in St. John's will they be pathologically friendly in the rest of the province?
Weather watch: it's nice so far, mostly sunny or a bit overcast, and the occasional mist. I was too warm in a long-sleeved t-shirt and windbreaker. Everyone we speak to says we've brought the sun; it's been raining solidly and cold for weeks. We have tons of stuff with us, many more clothes than we would normally pack, but when you have to prepare for heat, cold, rain and sun, what else can you do?
* * * *
I can scarcely describe how happy I am about this big writing assignment that fell from the sky last night. My original plan of how I was paying for this trip fell through a while back. It was too late to cancel (nonrefundable air and rental car) and I knew I'd figure out a way to pay for it over time, although it could potentially take quite a long time. Goddess knows it wouldn't be the first trip we paid for six or eight months after it ended. My plan was to spend July trying to drum up some decent paid writing work. Then the night before we leave, some comes to me!
Spinal Network is a very well-known and highly regarded resource guide for people with spinal cord injuries. It was created by Sam Maddox, a pioneer in the field; Sam also began New Mobility, the magazine I've been associated with for a long time. Spinal Network, New Mobility and now Kids On Wheels (which I helped create) are now all published by the same group.
Ten years ago, the current publishers of Spinal Network put out a new edition, and I edited the Sports chapter. Then, some years later, Kids On Wheels was born, the first-ever resource guide for children who use wheelchairs and their parents. I wrote the sports and recreation chapter for that, then wrote and edited for the magazine before I recently gave it up.
So last night, the editorial director emailed me: they are doing a completely new edition of Spinal Network, a thorough overhaul, am I interested in working on it? I'll be re-writing and editing the Sports section. It's going to be a lot of work - work that I will really enjoy, and which should pay nicely. I'm excited! But right now the best thing is the financial concern has been lifted from my mind, just as I start the trip. Lovely.
* * * *
I called home, just to satisfy my mind that the Katherine The Dogsitter had arrived. They were all outside, doing fine. I miss Tala! (Don't worry, I miss Cody a little, which is more than she misses me.)
Pictures of St. John's are here.
The airport is not far from downtown, and we drove right in and found our hotel. On our way there, we drove through the main drag of downtown St. John's, Duckworth Street. I noticed the two pubs my Newfie Campaign Friend recommended, one that has live music every night.
The hotel is a "Hometel" - rooms in brownstone houses. It's a much nicer room that we expected, stylish and comfy, with free phone, internet, parking and a hot breakfast. It's right at the base of Signal Hill.
After getting settled in a bit, we went downtown for lunch at a pub - fish and chips, of course. I have no idea if the fish actually comes from here anymore, but it seems like the thing to do. We also had local beer, Quidi Vidi (pronounced "Kiddy Viddy"). My pan-fried cod came with "scrunchions," which are diced bits of fried pork rinds. Kind of like salty fried fat.
From there we drove up Signal Hill, which overlooks St. John's Harbour, with the city on one side and the Atlantic on the other. The approach to the harbour is a narrows, with cliffs rising on both side; it's easy to see why this was such an important strategic point.
I thought Signal Hill got its name because it's the spot where Marconi received the first Transatlantic radio signal, but the signalling dates much farther back, to the signal flags (a redundancy, I think - the flags were called signals) that were raised to communicate from ship to shore. There's a little look-out building that looks like a mini-castle, and the remains of the fort, powder magazine and cannons. This is all perched on high cliffs, the kind you always see in photos of Newfoundland. It reminded us both of Ireland.
The whole point is a national park, and there are trails along the cliffs. We walked some, mostly to get good views. It's a great view of St. John's. The building where Marconi received that radio signal is gone (burned in a fire), but there's a plaque marking the spot.
We were tired and not up for a big hike, but on the way out of Signal Hill, we stopped at the visitor's centre, which was very nice. It tells the history of the hill in terms of its military and communications significance. And guess who we saw there? The National Post readers from the airport in Toronto. They didn't see us. Gros Morne? We'll see.
From there we went back downtown for coffee, then we were going to hang out in a pub, but suddenly realized how tired we were. We picked up some food and went back to the room, thinking we would join tonight's Red Sox game in progress on our computers. It was 7:30; game time is at 7:00. But our laptops said 6:00. Duh: time zone! We're on Newfoundland time, and we didn't miss a pitch. Pub tomorrow night, tonight we're crashed.
* * * *
People here are extremely friendly, as advertised. If this is what they're like in St. John's will they be pathologically friendly in the rest of the province?
Weather watch: it's nice so far, mostly sunny or a bit overcast, and the occasional mist. I was too warm in a long-sleeved t-shirt and windbreaker. Everyone we speak to says we've brought the sun; it's been raining solidly and cold for weeks. We have tons of stuff with us, many more clothes than we would normally pack, but when you have to prepare for heat, cold, rain and sun, what else can you do?
* * * *
I can scarcely describe how happy I am about this big writing assignment that fell from the sky last night. My original plan of how I was paying for this trip fell through a while back. It was too late to cancel (nonrefundable air and rental car) and I knew I'd figure out a way to pay for it over time, although it could potentially take quite a long time. Goddess knows it wouldn't be the first trip we paid for six or eight months after it ended. My plan was to spend July trying to drum up some decent paid writing work. Then the night before we leave, some comes to me!
Spinal Network is a very well-known and highly regarded resource guide for people with spinal cord injuries. It was created by Sam Maddox, a pioneer in the field; Sam also began New Mobility, the magazine I've been associated with for a long time. Spinal Network, New Mobility and now Kids On Wheels (which I helped create) are now all published by the same group.
Ten years ago, the current publishers of Spinal Network put out a new edition, and I edited the Sports chapter. Then, some years later, Kids On Wheels was born, the first-ever resource guide for children who use wheelchairs and their parents. I wrote the sports and recreation chapter for that, then wrote and edited for the magazine before I recently gave it up.
So last night, the editorial director emailed me: they are doing a completely new edition of Spinal Network, a thorough overhaul, am I interested in working on it? I'll be re-writing and editing the Sports section. It's going to be a lot of work - work that I will really enjoy, and which should pay nicely. I'm excited! But right now the best thing is the financial concern has been lifted from my mind, just as I start the trip. Lovely.
* * * *
I called home, just to satisfy my mind that the Katherine The Dogsitter had arrived. They were all outside, doing fine. I miss Tala! (Don't worry, I miss Cody a little, which is more than she misses me.)
Pictures of St. John's are here.
6.16.2008
we go to newfoundland
I can't travel without writing about it. I have a travel journal from every trip I've taken as an adult, beginning with my first trip to Europe, with my dear friend NN, in 1982.
When Allan and I went to Peru in 2006, I blogged my travel journal for the first time, and I really enjoyed it. So I'm doing it again. If other people's travel diaries are not your thing, check back in early July.
I'll be writing daily, but I may not have daily internet access. It's possible I'll have to post a few days' worth of journal all at once.
As with Peru, this will be text only, no pictures. After we get back, I'll sort through the photos and choose a selection to post. We're bringing both film and digital cameras.
This blog now uses comment moderation permanently; I'll put comments through once or twice daily.
I'm really excited. If I'm going somewhere, I'm happy. And extra-special-happy news, I was just offered a big writing/editing job that will pay for the trip!
We leave very early tomorrow morning. Keep in touch, ok?
When Allan and I went to Peru in 2006, I blogged my travel journal for the first time, and I really enjoyed it. So I'm doing it again. If other people's travel diaries are not your thing, check back in early July.
I'll be writing daily, but I may not have daily internet access. It's possible I'll have to post a few days' worth of journal all at once.
As with Peru, this will be text only, no pictures. After we get back, I'll sort through the photos and choose a selection to post. We're bringing both film and digital cameras.
This blog now uses comment moderation permanently; I'll put comments through once or twice daily.
I'm really excited. If I'm going somewhere, I'm happy. And extra-special-happy news, I was just offered a big writing/editing job that will pay for the trip!
We leave very early tomorrow morning. Keep in touch, ok?
note to readers here for war resister news and updates
If you click on wmtc through the War Resisters Support Campaign, and read mainly (or only) the war resisters updates, news will be thin for a while. I'll be out of town for 16 days, and will have limited access to Campaign news. I'll post any big updates I get, but chances are you'll hear those before I get to them.
If you're interested in following my trip to Newfoundland, feel free! Go to the main page.
I'll be thinking of the Campaign constantly. The safety of the war resisters is always in my thoughts.
Peace.
If you're interested in following my trip to Newfoundland, feel free! Go to the main page.
I'll be thinking of the Campaign constantly. The safety of the war resisters is always in my thoughts.
Peace.
the american empire in iraq
I recently posted about the US building permanent bases in Iraq. Here's the story to read on that subject: The Greatest Story Never Told - Finally, the U.S. Mega-Bases in Iraq Make the News, by Tom Engelhardt. I'm working my way through it now.
I ask you, does this sound like an empire ready to make an exit any time soon?
Read.
I ask you, does this sound like an empire ready to make an exit any time soon?
Read.
6.15.2008
ethics question
I have an online friend, an acquaintance really. This person confided something very serious to me. She or he recently suffered a terrible ordeal. A tragedy.
This person sometimes behaves like a jerk, and I think it may be related to this very recent trauma.
Do I tell other people the extenuating circumstances that may underlie the jerk-like behaviour? It would help people be more tolerant of him or her, reduce the potential for hurt feelings.
Or is keeping someone's confidence (as in "I am telling you this in confidence") more important?
My inclination is to be a mediator, to share the information. But is that the right thing to do?
* * * *
More information that might be relevant. All the people involved are online friends only. Some are better friends than others, but to my knowledge, no one knows this person in real life. She or he is just an online name to them. There's very little chance of real-life contact.
This person sometimes behaves like a jerk, and I think it may be related to this very recent trauma.
Do I tell other people the extenuating circumstances that may underlie the jerk-like behaviour? It would help people be more tolerant of him or her, reduce the potential for hurt feelings.
Or is keeping someone's confidence (as in "I am telling you this in confidence") more important?
My inclination is to be a mediator, to share the information. But is that the right thing to do?
* * * *
More information that might be relevant. All the people involved are online friends only. Some are better friends than others, but to my knowledge, no one knows this person in real life. She or he is just an online name to them. There's very little chance of real-life contact.
john pilger: "in the grand tradition, obama is a hawk"
While debating the significance - or, in my opinion, lack thereof - of the death of Tim Russert, I was amazed to hear Russert referred to as a great journalist. I can barely apply the word "journalism" to what Russert did and what the rest of the TV talking-head crowd do.
Great journalists of our time? Seymour Hersh. Naomi Klein. Robert Fisk. Amy Goodman. Barbara Ehrenreich. Christopher Hedges.
Those are just a few off the top of my head.
What's that you say? They're all on the left end of the political spectrum? That's no coincidence: it's where real journalism leads.
The right doesn't want journalism. Journalism is the relentless press for truth, wherever it leads. It involves nuance, contradiction, and often painful revelations. The right deals in simple images, duality, blind loyalty, bigotry, fear.
Another truly extraordinary journalist is John Pilger. If you don't know Pilger, check out the website; it speaks for itself.
Here's his latest column, with thanks to Allan.
I do think a US president who is not a white male would be historic. And I'd be damn glad to see it, both for its own sake, and because it would mean (I think) the election was not cancelled or fixed.
But let's be reasonable about how much change one can expect, especially on foreign policy. The constantly repeated statement that Obama was always against the invasion of Iraq is certainly questionable. (That source, Joseph Cannon, despises Obama in a way I definitely do not, and his writing style is shrill, but his work is solid, and everything is sourced.) And has Obama changed his position on Iran?
Great journalists of our time? Seymour Hersh. Naomi Klein. Robert Fisk. Amy Goodman. Barbara Ehrenreich. Christopher Hedges.
Those are just a few off the top of my head.
What's that you say? They're all on the left end of the political spectrum? That's no coincidence: it's where real journalism leads.
The right doesn't want journalism. Journalism is the relentless press for truth, wherever it leads. It involves nuance, contradiction, and often painful revelations. The right deals in simple images, duality, blind loyalty, bigotry, fear.
Another truly extraordinary journalist is John Pilger. If you don't know Pilger, check out the website; it speaks for itself.
Here's his latest column, with thanks to Allan.
In the great tradition, Obama is a hawk
by John Pilger
In 1941, the editor Edward Dowling wrote: "The two greatest obstacles to democracy in the United States are, first, the widespread delusion among the poor that we have a democracy, and second, the chronic terror among the rich, lest we get it." What has changed? The terror of the rich is greater than ever, and the poor have passed on their delusion to those who believe that when George W Bush finally steps down next January, his numerous threats to the rest of humanity will diminish.
The foregone nomination of Barack Obama, which, according to one breathless commentator, "marks a truly exciting and historic moment in US history", is a product of the new delusion. Actually, it just seems new. Truly exciting and historic moments have been fabricated around US presidential campaigns for as long as I can recall, generating what can only be described as bullshit on a grand scale. Race, gender, appearance, body language, rictal spouses and offspring, even bursts of tragic grandeur, are all subsumed by marketing and "image-making", now magnified by "virtual" technology. Thanks to an undemocratic electoral college system (or, in Bush's case, tampered voting machines) only those who both control and obey the system can win.
For example, since I compared Obama with Robert Kennedy in these pages, he has made two important statements, the implications of which have not been allowed to intrude on the celebrations. The first was at the conference of the American Israel Public Affairs Committee (Aipac), the Zionist lobby, which, as Ian Williams has pointed out, "will get you accused of anti-Semitism if you quote its own website about its power". Obama had already offered his genuflection, but on 4 June went further. He promised to support an "undivided Jerusalem" as Israel's capital. Not a single government on earth supports the Israeli annexation of all of Jerusalem, including the Bush regime, which recognises the UN resolution designating Jerusalem an international city.
His second statement, largely ignored, was made in Miami on 23 May. Speaking to the expatriate Cuban community – which over the years has faithfully produced terrorists, assassins and drug runners for US administrations – Obama promised to continue a 47-year crippling embargo on Cuba that has been declared illegal by the UN year after year.
Again, Obama went further than Bush. He said the United States had "lost Latin America". He described the democratically elected governments in Venezuela, Bolivia and Nicaragua as a "vacuum" to be filled. He raised the nonsense of Iranian influence in Latin America, and he endorsed Colombia's "right to strike terrorists who seek safe-havens across its borders". Translated, this means the "right" of a regime, whose president and leading politicians are linked to death squads, to invade its neighbours on behalf of Washington. He also endorsed the so-called Merida Initiative, which Amnesty International and others have condemned as the US bringing the "Colombian solution" to Mexico. He did not stop there. "We must press further south as well," he said. Not even Bush has said that.
It is time the wishful-thinkers grew up politically and debated the world of great power as it is, not as they hope it will be. Like all serious presidential candidates, past and present, Obama is a hawk and an expansionist. He comes from an unbroken Democratic tradition, as the war-making of presidents Truman, Kennedy, Johnson, Carter and Clinton demonstrates. Obama's difference may be that he feels an even greater need to show how tough he is. However much the colour of his skin draws out both racists and supporters, it is otherwise irrelevant to the great power game. The "truly exciting and historic moment in US history" will only occur when the game itself is challenged.
I do think a US president who is not a white male would be historic. And I'd be damn glad to see it, both for its own sake, and because it would mean (I think) the election was not cancelled or fixed.
But let's be reasonable about how much change one can expect, especially on foreign policy. The constantly repeated statement that Obama was always against the invasion of Iraq is certainly questionable. (That source, Joseph Cannon, despises Obama in a way I definitely do not, and his writing style is shrill, but his work is solid, and everything is sourced.) And has Obama changed his position on Iran?
the newfoundland packing challenge
When we went to Ireland in 2001, some friends told me an old cliche: be prepared for all four seasons, every day. Perhaps we were just lucky, but we didn't find quite that much variation. It was November, so often overcast and chilly, but it was mostly what I would consider typical autumn weather.
But Newfoundland, from what I hear, really is like that. A Campaigner friend who grew up in Newfoundland has been giving me tips and advice. In our email exchange today (with her parents' addresses!), I said, "Packing for this is a challenge, but we're trying to prepare for all four seasons.". Her reply:
Now, I am the woman who spent her anniversary in an Ice Hotel. I love the cold, but I do need to be dressed for it. I also don't like being damp (people with arthritis usually find damp weather very uncomfortable), so I have to take extra care with a damp cold, as opposed to the dry cold we had in Quebec.
We went back into historical data for Newfoundland weather (very cool feature), and it seems like we're arriving on the cusp of summer. Right now it's cold, but if the last few years are a guide, it will get much warmer while we're there.
But Newfoundland, from what I hear, really is like that. A Campaigner friend who grew up in Newfoundland has been giving me tips and advice. In our email exchange today (with her parents' addresses!), I said, "Packing for this is a challenge, but we're trying to prepare for all four seasons.". Her reply:
Quite often experienced in the same day. A warm sweater and windbreaker is essential for hiking in Gros Morne. When you see how bent the trees are around the shores you'll know why. Then as you progress inland, you'll need to take off the sweater, then 10 mins later you'll need it again. They give out light parkas on whale watching tours in St. John's. This is not enough -- you'll need a warm sweater as well. Even if the temp is 25 degrees, it'll be freezing on the water, this is the North Atlantic. When I went, I was wearing a turtleneck, wool sweater, fleece sweatshirt, plus the jacket they give you on the boat and it still took about two hours to thaw out once we got off the boat. And it was a really warm day.
Now, I am the woman who spent her anniversary in an Ice Hotel. I love the cold, but I do need to be dressed for it. I also don't like being damp (people with arthritis usually find damp weather very uncomfortable), so I have to take extra care with a damp cold, as opposed to the dry cold we had in Quebec.
We went back into historical data for Newfoundland weather (very cool feature), and it seems like we're arriving on the cusp of summer. Right now it's cold, but if the last few years are a guide, it will get much warmer while we're there.
i tried to watch some advertising and a baseball game broke out
You may recall how much I resent advertising swallowing up our entire landscape, exemplified by how difficult it has become to enjoy a baseball game in between ads.
I may have neglected to mention (on anywhere but our Red Sox "gamethread") a recent development in the decline of civilization. During Blue Jays games, Rogers SportsNet is now squeezing in ads in between pitches. Pitch is thrown, ad opens, ad closes, next pitch is thrown.
Do you hear me? Are you getting this? They are showing ads IN BETWEEN PITCHES!!!
And yet, to my amazement, James sent me one that might actually be worse.
Anyone who watches even a bit of TV has had the teeth-grinding experience of ads (usually for other shows on the same channel) being shown at the bottom of the screen. These in-show ads have become larger and more intrusive, with more moving animation, often blocking the show you are watching. Now it gets even better. And by better, I mean worse.
Click and watch. The original post James sent is here: a site over-run by ads.
And from Allan:
"Privacy should not be a concern." Thanks, advertisers! We trust you to keep us safe!
I may have neglected to mention (on anywhere but our Red Sox "gamethread") a recent development in the decline of civilization. During Blue Jays games, Rogers SportsNet is now squeezing in ads in between pitches. Pitch is thrown, ad opens, ad closes, next pitch is thrown.
Do you hear me? Are you getting this? They are showing ads IN BETWEEN PITCHES!!!
And yet, to my amazement, James sent me one that might actually be worse.
Anyone who watches even a bit of TV has had the teeth-grinding experience of ads (usually for other shows on the same channel) being shown at the bottom of the screen. These in-show ads have become larger and more intrusive, with more moving animation, often blocking the show you are watching. Now it gets even better. And by better, I mean worse.
Click and watch. The original post James sent is here: a site over-run by ads.
And from Allan:
In advertising these days, the brass ring goes to those who can measure everything — how many people see a particular advertisement, when they see it, who they are. All of that is easy on the Internet, and getting easier in television and print.
Billboards are a different story. For the most part, they are still a relic of old-world media, and the best guesses about viewership numbers come from foot traffic counts or highway reports, neither of which guarantees that the people passing by were really looking at the billboard, or that they were the ones sought out.
Now, some entrepreneurs have introduced technology to solve that problem. They are equipping billboards with tiny cameras that gather details about passers-by — their gender, approximate age and how long they looked at the billboard. These details are transmitted to a central database.
Behind the technology are small start-ups that say they are not storing actual images of the passers-by, so privacy should not be a concern.
"Privacy should not be a concern." Thanks, advertisers! We trust you to keep us safe!
just how vast is the american gulag?
In The End of America - which I blogged about here, here and here - Naomi Wolf lists ten elements that, taken together, suggest a society is moving from democracy to authoritarianism: the fascist shift. One element is secret prisons.
We already know the US is operating so-called "black sites" where prisoners are held without charges, trial or access to counsel - and tortured. Here's more.
Story here.
Just the other day, a US State Department official called Maher Arar's extraordinary rendition a "myth". War is peace. Freedom is slavery. Ignorance is strength.
And in related news [all emphasis mine]:
Why is the US in Iraq?
And what about that "volunteer" army?
Looking up some links, I noticed this choice fact from Amy Goodman's interview with a torture survivor: the Democrats learned about the "black site" renditions in 2002. And did nothing.
But don't worry, Obama will be different. This time he'll change.
We already know the US is operating so-called "black sites" where prisoners are held without charges, trial or access to counsel - and tortured. Here's more.
The United States is operating "floating prisons" to house those arrested in its war on terror, according to human rights lawyers, who claim there has been an attempt to conceal the numbers and whereabouts of detainees.
Details of ships where detainees have been held and sites allegedly being used in countries across the world have been compiled as the debate over detention without trial intensifies on both sides of the Atlantic. The US government was yesterday urged to list the names and whereabouts of all those detained.
Information about the operation of prison ships has emerged through a number of sources, including statements from the US military, the Council of Europe and related parliamentary bodies, and the testimonies of prisoners.
The analysis, due to be published this year by the human rights organisation Reprieve, also claims there have been more than 200 new cases of rendition since 2006, when President George Bush declared that the practice had stopped.
It is the use of ships to detain prisoners, however, that is raising fresh concern and demands for inquiries in Britain and the US.
According to research carried out by Reprieve, the US may have used as many as 17 ships as "floating prisons" since 2001. Detainees are interrogated aboard the vessels and then rendered to other, often undisclosed, locations, it is claimed.
. . .
At this time many people were abducted by Somali, Kenyan and Ethiopian forces in a systematic operation involving regular interrogations by individuals believed to be members of the FBI and CIA. Ultimately more than 100 individuals were "disappeared" to prisons in locations including Kenya, Somalia, Ethiopia, Djibouti and Guantánamo Bay.
Reprieve believes prisoners may have also been held for interrogation on the USS Ashland and other ships in the Gulf of Aden during this time.
The Reprieve study includes the account of a prisoner released from Guantánamo Bay, who described a fellow inmate's story of detention on an amphibious assault ship. "One of my fellow prisoners in Guantánamo was at sea on an American ship with about 50 others before coming to Guantánamo ... he was in the cage next to me. He told me that there were about 50 other people on the ship. They were all closed off in the bottom of the ship. The prisoner commented to me that it was like something you see on TV. The people held on the ship were beaten even more severely than in Guantánamo."
Clive Stafford Smith, Reprieve's legal director, said: "They choose ships to try to keep their misconduct as far as possible from the prying eyes of the media and lawyers. We will eventually reunite these ghost prisoners with their legal rights.
"By its own admission, the US government is currently detaining at least 26,000 people without trial in secret prisons, and information suggests up to 80,000 have been 'through the system' since 2001. The US government must show a commitment to rights and basic humanity by immediately revealing who these people are, where they are, and what has been done to them."
Story here.
Just the other day, a US State Department official called Maher Arar's extraordinary rendition a "myth". War is peace. Freedom is slavery. Ignorance is strength.
And in related news [all emphasis mine]:
Why is the US in Iraq?
"A BBC investigation estimates that around $23 billion may have been lost, stolen or just not properly accounted for in Iraq.
The BBC's Panorama programme has used US and Iraqi government sources to research how much some private contractors have profited from the conflict and rebuilding.
A US gagging order is preventing discussion of the allegations.
The order applies to 70 court cases against some of the top US companies.
. . .
To date, no major US contractor faces trial for fraud or mismanagement in Iraq.
. . .
Henry Waxman, who chairs the House committee on oversight and government reform, said: "The money that's gone into waste, fraud and abuse under these contracts is just so outrageous, it's egregious. "It may well turn out to be the largest war profiteering in history."
And what about that "volunteer" army?
The U.S. military's top uniformed officer told an audience of Army troops Wednesday the unpopular "stop loss" policy won't end anytime soon, and he predicted a small rise in the number of troops forced to serve past their re-enlistment or retirement dates.
Navy Adm. Mike Mullen, chairman of the Joint Chiefs of Staff, told an audience of 600 soldiers at Fort Stewart he understands the strain the stop loss practice and multiple deployments to Iraq and Afghanistan have placed on service members.
"I would like to see an end to the stop loss policy, but I don't see it happening in the near future," Mullen said during a question-and-answer session with the troops. "I see a slight growth in the next couple of years based on predictions right now."
Mullen said about 11,000 Army troops are now serving under the stop loss policy, which critics have referred to as a "backdoor draft." Retaining troops beyond the date they're due to leave the military has been necessary to keep units stocked with trained soldiers ready to deploy to Iraq and Afghanistan, he said.
The stop loss question came up as Mullen spoke to noncommissioned and junior officers from the 3rd Infantry Division who returned from a 15-month deployment to Iraq in the last few months.
The 20,000-soldier division was the first tapped by the Army to serve a third tour in Iraq since 2003, and about half the soldiers in the room raised their hands when Mullen asked how many had deployed three times or more.
Looking up some links, I noticed this choice fact from Amy Goodman's interview with a torture survivor: the Democrats learned about the "black site" renditions in 2002. And did nothing.
But don't worry, Obama will be different. This time he'll change.
6.14.2008
welcome and almost welcome
Bob, David and JoJo have arrived!
MSEH, P and 7YO are almost here!
And DanielWBC and Alan will be arriving shortly!
War resisters + wmtc3 + Newfoundland = I have been remiss in my blog reading, and especially remiss in these greetings. I think we'll be in Newfoundland when Would Be Canadians and Two Moms To Canada make The Big Move, so please accept this advance welcome.
To all the new Canadian families: welcome home! My wish for you is that you will be as happy as Allan and I are in our new country.
MSEH, P and 7YO are almost here!
And DanielWBC and Alan will be arriving shortly!
War resisters + wmtc3 + Newfoundland = I have been remiss in my blog reading, and especially remiss in these greetings. I think we'll be in Newfoundland when Would Be Canadians and Two Moms To Canada make The Big Move, so please accept this advance welcome.
To all the new Canadian families: welcome home! My wish for you is that you will be as happy as Allan and I are in our new country.
holding the bully's coat, extended excerpt
Towards the end of Linda McQuaig's Holding The Bully's Coat, there is a great stand-alone piece, a meditation on war and human society. I really appreciated the historical perspective, the paradigm shift, the willingness to question our basic assumptions.
Although this post is not directly related to the war resisters, I'm tagging it with my "war resister" label, so that folks who come over from the Campaign website might read it.
There's more, and it's very good.
Ending the acceptability and seeming inevitability of war is a dream. But all great human endeavors began with a dream.
Although this post is not directly related to the war resisters, I'm tagging it with my "war resister" label, so that folks who come over from the Campaign website might read it.
When provoked, a gentleman didn't have to spend a lot of time in previous centuries thinking through the problem of how to respond. If his honour had been offended - if say, someone had questioned his integrity, or the virtue of his betrothed, or the extent of his bravery on the battlefield - he knew he had little choice but to challenge the offender to a duel. The stakes would be high; both men would have swords or pistols capable of killing the other. And the public, as well as family and friends, would come out to watch. Despite the potentially tragic consequences, the duel was an accepted part of social interaction. After all, humans have natural aggressive instincts, so what could be more natural than that two men, locked into an apparently irresolvable conflict, would resort to personal violence? It's all just part of the human condition. Or so it must have seemed, as the loved ones of the defeated gentleman watched him lie dying on the ground.
Looking back, the duel seems hopelessly quaint and primitive, an idea long ago shelved. It's not that humans have evolved so that petty insults no longer sting us or provoke our anger. It's just that, in the modern world, we've rejected the format of the duel as a way to resolve our disputes. Now, if someone insults us, we can sue that person for slander or libel. Or if a neighbour makes plans to build an extension on his house that will block our sunlight, we can try to stop him at a municipal bylaw hearing. If we were instead to show up at the offender's house with a weapon in hand, we'd be regarded as not only dangerous but weird and loopy.
Of course, violent personal behaviour still exists in pockets of our societies - in gangs and other outlawed forms. But our mainstream culture has fully adapted to solving disputes through the legal system. What once seemed no doubt utterly natural - that two men would resolve a dispute by recourse to personal violence - now seems part of a culture that exists only on the margins. This represents an apparently enormous change in human behaviour. What accounts for it?
Perhaps human nature has evolved, becoming more gentle and compassionate? Tempting as it may be to believe this contention, there doesn't seem to be much evidence to back it up. Duelling, which began in Europe in the mid-sixteenth century, was a common practice among upper-class men in parts of Europe and America, lingering even in some areas into the early twentieth century, when it finally disappeared. And yet, one would be hard put to make a case that humans somehow became more gentle and compassionate in the late nineteenth century. The twentieth century was perhaps the bloodiest century ever. One doesn't have to resort to statistics or laboratory studies to review the evidence around us in the modern world; humans appear to be still just as capable of aggression, violence and cruelty.
But if humans don't appear to have fundamentally changed, other things have. To begin with, our modern laws prevent duelling. If two men were to attempt to square off against each other with swords (or knives or guns) on a sidewalk or in a public park, someone would quickly call the police, and they would find themselves arrested and facing charges. But the prohibition against this sort of behaviour goes beyond the fact that we have laws against it. On another level, it has simply lost its cache, its social acceptability, its legitimacy. To behave that way is to identify oneself as a hoodlum, misfit or mental case. A normal person with a grievance doesn't even bother to weigh the advantages and disadvantages of being charged for criminal activities if he engages in some sort of duel. He's simply absorbed the notion, from all his experiences in life, that the duel isn't an acceptable form of behaviour. At some level, he is blocked from behaving that way because he knows if he did, his friends, family and acquaintances would regard him as, well, ridiculous. In fact, the duel has slipped so far outside normal practice these days that it likely wouldn't even occur to him that he could solve his grievance through a duel. The notion of a duel has become, as political philosopher Anatol Rapoport would put it, "an obsolete habit of thought."
So the disappearance of duelling from our modern culture probably has as much to do with our public disapproval of the practice as it does with laws actually banning it. What allowed duelling to exist for so long was the fact that it enjoyed some sort of public legitimacy, that it was accepted as a way to demonstrate one's "honour." So, for instance, as Alexander Hamilton prepared himself mentally the night before his famous duel with U.S. vice-president Aaron Burr in 1804, he felt he was conforming to an accepted social tradition. He even felt - strange as it may seem to us today - obliged to take part. As his diary makes clear, he was actually reluctant to take part for a number of logical and compelling reasons: he felt no ill will towards Burr, he opposed duelling on moral and religious grounds (and by this point, duelling was illegal under the laws of New Jersey, where the duel was to take place) and he realized his duel posed a great risk to the financial well-being of his wife and children. "I shall hazard much and possibly gain little," he wrote. Still, he felt the need to take part, because, he wrote, defending oneself in a duel was what "men of the world denominate honor." Therefore, if he declined, he would be the object of derision and contempt by those whose opinion mattered to him. So, with all logic and feeling against it, Hamilton made his fateful decision to bow to "public prejudice in this particular."
The peculiar set of social attitudes that drove Hamilton to enter into his duel have disappeared and been replaced with a set of social attitudes that would cause a similarly positioned person today to react very differently, without resort to violence. Thus, through social disapproval and legal prohibition, modern societies have rendered obsolete an institution that, for centuries, seemed just plain natural – an expression of the apparently basic human appetite for violence.
Of course, the duel was a particular institution. More broadly, we agree as members of society to give up our right to commit personal violence of any kind. We surrender that power to the state, as part of an implicit pact in which every other member of society does the same. The state then has a monopoly on violence, and we collectively - through our democratic voting power - determine the laws we will all live by. Only the police are given the right to use violence, and only to enforce the laws we've collectively agreed upon. By giving up the right to protect ourselves through violence, we achieve something even more precious - the right to live our lives free of violence.
Few today would lament this trade-off, any more than they would regret the passing of the duel. Modern living seems much more comfortable and congenial without violence in our midst. Indeed, the thought of any nation permitting such violence among its citizens - or unable to stop it, as in the case of nations where warlords are able to function - strikes us as evidence of a more primitive culture, something our society has evolved beyond.
Yet oddly we seem to see nothing absurd about continuing to accept an institution of violence between nations, namely the institution of war. As the Prussian strategist Carl von Clausewitz observed in his classic 1832 book, On War, "War is nothing but a duel on a larger scale." Compared to the duel, war is of course a far more lethal institution, indeed one with the potential today to obliterate not just a few proud gentlemen but the entire human race. How odd, then, that we continue to find war acceptable, making it a central part of the way we organize our societies, even though it's an institution no more "natural" than the duel.
* * * *
Of course, war is generally regarded not as an institution but rather as the inevitable clash that results from deep-rooted human aggression. In other words, it's regarded as not something we chose to accept or reject but rather simply something that happens. This prevailing view doesn't imply that war can't be averted; obviously it sometimes can be, through diplomacy or political strategies. But the prevailing view does see war as a sort of normal and inevitable part of human behaviour. So while it's good to work at minimizing the chances of any given war, there's an unspoken assumption that war, in some form, will always be with us. Any notion of "ridding the world of war" is seen as hopelessly naive, rooted in some misguided notion that human nature can be reshaped into some nobler form.
Aggression does appear to be something that occurs naturally in humans, just as many other behaviours - laughing, crying, loving, hating, working, mating, communicating, making friends, helping others, co-operating with others - seem natural. So war may well be an expression of the aggressive part of human nature. The question is: Is it an inevitable expression of that aggressive side? Duelling - something that appeared to be basic and natural - simply disappeared over time; today duelling would be considered a silly anachronism, if anyone bothered to think about it. Could it be that war, like duelling, is an institution, rather than an inevitable expression of human nature? As an institution, war requires some form of social approval and support. Is it possible that ultimately such social approval and support could be withdrawn? In other words, is it possible that humans could choose to reject war?
Rapoport, who belongs to a school of thought known as peace studies, sees war in precisely this way, as an institution that continues to exist only because we continue to give it legitimacy. Rapoport points to other human institutions and practices that have failed to survive to survive over time – slavery, absolute monarchy, binding the feet of young girls, gladitorial combat. Political scientist John Mueller adds a few other practices that also became defunct once our society began to regard them as uncivilized and even repulsive: human sacrifice, the burning of heretics, bearbaiting, freak shows, Jim Crow laws, family feuding, public and intentionally painful executions, public flogging, executive for minor crimes, deforming corseting, laughing at the insane. And yet all these practices were at one time considered acceptable, with some of them deeply ingrained in the social fabric.
Slavery, for instance, certainly offends our modern sensibilities about intrinsic human rights. And yet what could seem more basic to human nature than the desire to control and take advantage of others – a desire ultimately achieved in actually owning another human being? Hence, one could imagine an argument in which slavery would be defended as simply a basic extension of human traits, such as aggression, selfishness and the desire for dominance, and the rejection of slavery would be characterized as naive idealism.
Slavery might in some ways be considered a closer analogy to war than duelling, in that slavery, like war, involved a significant infrastructure that many profited from - slave-trading and slave-shipping companies and manufacturers of slavery equipment, like chains and restraints of various sorts. Furthermore, like war, slavery was an institution that existed in many parts of the world, and as far back as the dawn of civilization. Slavery also conferred important financial benefits upon the slave-owning class, which typically was the dominant social group with considerable, if not absolute, political power. So any campaign to do away with slavery - like doing away with war - would seem to face formidable obstacles.
What's striking, though, is how quickly slavery largely disappeared from the world. If we look at the span of human history, we see that slavery existed for thousands of years, and then effectively disappeared rather suddenly in recent centuries. The Swedes were ahead of the pack - who would have guessed? - abolishing slavery in 1335. After that landmark, nothing much happened until the late eighteenth century. Then, starting with Portugal, which abolished slavery in 1761, a wave of abolitions swept through many parts of the world, particularly Europe and the Americas: England and Wales (1772), Haiti (1776), Upper Canada (1793), France (1802), Argentina (1813), Chile (1823), Mexico (1829), Denmark (1848), Russia (1861), the Netherlands (1863), the United States (1865), Cuba (1880), Brazil (1888). By the late nineteenth century, abolition spread farther afield, including Korea (1894), Zanzibar (1897), China (1910), Burma (1929), Ethiopia (1936), Tibet (1959), Saudi Arabia (1962) and Mauritania (1980).
How did this happen? One might guess that society abandoned slavery simply because it became economically unviable, as some have argued. And it's true that Adam Smith, the eighteenth-century economist who came up with the theory of modern capitalism, argued that free labour was more efficient than slavery. Still, slavery apparently remained viable and profitable as an economic institution, and it was certainly financially rewarding to slaveholders, many of whom depended upon slavery for their financial well-being and who might have been unable to make a profitable transition to a slave-free world. . . .
Nor is there any evidence of slave owners en masse having a sudden change of heart and freeing their slaves, although there were individual cases of this. Rather, the determining factor in ending slavery appears to have been the rise of strong abolition movements in a number of countries, particularly Britain and the United States. Such movements had the effect of changing the way people viewed this age-old institution. What had been regarded for centuries as an acceptable, natural form of human behaviour came to be seen as uncivilized, immoral and repugnant. As Mueller puts it: "Slavery became controversial, then peculiar and then obsolete."
Rational argument certainly played a role in this process. The abolitionist movement and those responding to it were influenced by the ideas of the Enlightenment, ideas about human rights and freedoms. Adam Smith's arguments about the greater efficiency of free labour no doubt underscored the inappropriateness - and lack of economic necessity - of slavery. So rational argument was marshalled, along with appeals to human compassion, in order to fundamentally alter the way a vast number of people regarded this particular institution. The abolitionist movement worked on a number of levels, spreading its ideas through intellectual debate and literary appeals, as well as through political action that resulted in laws abolishing various aspects of slavery, such as the slave trade. In other words, concerted and determined effort, based on rational arguments as well as emotional appeals, succeeded in stripping slavery of its legitimacy in the eyes of the public. Once the public no longer found it acceptable, slavery ceased to be viable, no matter how much certain powerful figures wanted to hold on to it.
Would the abolition of war, then, also be possible? This intriguing question is raised by Rapoport and others like Graeme MacQueen. It's important to note that the possibility of an end to war doesn't rest on the notion that humans would change in some fundamental way, becoming perhaps more peaceful or loving creatures. After all, duelling and slavery have passed into history without human nature becoming any more compassionate, or even improving in any detectable way.
The possibility of abolishing war also doesn't rest on the notion that the "warrior class" - those in the political, corporate and military establishments connected to war - would be converted to an anti-war stance. It's assumed that these people are unlikely to change, given their financial ties to the industry of war or perhaps simply because they've absorbed the values and arguments of a society long accepting of war's inevitability. Ultimately the views of the people in these elites - despite their enormous power - may not matter, however, just as the views of slave owners didn't matter once slavery had become peculiar, uncivilized and unacceptable in the eyes of the public.
If it seems inconceivable that war could ever be made to seem peculiar, consider the amazing transformation that has taken place in Europe in the last few decades. For centuries, Europeans were almost constantly at war with each other, from the age of barbarism that followed the collapse of the Roman Empire to the tumultuous world wars of the twentieth century. And yet, in recent decades, the inclination among European nations to wage war against each other has effectively disappeared. How to explain such a profound and sudden change, other than to see it springing from a kind of collective revulsion towards war - a revulsion that arose in the wake of the horrors of World War II? Given the scope and senselessness of that bloodbath, in which tens of millions of people died and much of the continent was destroyed, Europeans came to simply reject war as a means of solving their differences. To this end, European nations, with the support of their populations, came together and created the European Union, as a way of emphasizing their commonly held goals and as a forum for work¬ing together to jointly advance their prosperity. One could say that war among European nations lost its legitimacy. Today, anyone in Germany, France or Italy advocating war against another European nation would be regarded as unbalanced, unsophisticated, even ridiculous.
It's interesting to consider what role may have been played in bringing about this transformation by the establishment of the European Union, an institution aimed at breaking down patterns that in the past had led to war. In other words, was the ultimate result of de-legitimizing war among European nations advanced by the interim step of creating this new institution? Could a similar approach work in a campaign to de-legitimize war in general? Rather than focusing on trying to bring about a de-legitimization of war - a rather huge and difficult concept to convey - a campaign could set interim goals that would advance that ultimate goal. For instance, a campaign could set the interim goal of pushing national governments to pass laws banning participation in the arms trade, just as the anti-slavery movement focused on banning the slave trade as an interim step to the ultimate goal of banning the entire institution of slavery.
Rapoport reminds us that it's not even necessary to convert the general public to the philosophy of pacifism; it's simply necessary to undermine war's acceptability. Thus, the task is to destroy something, which is generally easier to accomplish than to build something. The strategy is simply to make the waging of war seem peculiar, uncivilized, even revolting. . . .
Indeed, the ever-increasing destructive power of war would seem to provide a solid rational and emotional basis to the war-abolitionist cause. It's interesting to note, for instance, how much more lethal the weaponry of war has become over time, with a particularly sharp increase in lethality since the mid-nineteenth century. Military historian Trevor Dupuy has drawn up an index to provide a rough measure of "lethality" - or killing power - of weapons through human history. For the first million or so years, the destructive power of weapons was relatively minimal. Throughout ancient and medieval times, the available weapons - the longbow, the crossbow, the early cannon - all score below 50 on Dupuy's "lethality index." This starts to change only in the mid-1800s, and by the late 1800s, rifles are scoring above 150 on the index. Then things really take off. By 1903, the Springfield rifle measures 495 in lethality. In the First World War, the lethality of machine guns comes in at 3,463; in the Second World War at 4,973. Meanwhile, the lethality of a Second World War fighter-bomber measures 1,245,789 on Dupuy's index. This is in turn utterly dwarfed by the lethality of the first nuclear bomb, which measures a staggering 49,086,000. By 1952, the hydrogen bomb scores 695,385,000 on the lethality index. Since then, the lethal¬ity of nuclear weapons has continued to grow in leaps and bounds.
The lethality of nuclear weapons is such that a nuclear war is simply irrational. Of course, nuclear war has always been understood to be irrational. But, as discussed earlier, the one apparently reasonable justification for it - the need for deterrence against the nuclear weapons of another power - was removed by the collapse of the Soviet Union, making it possible for Washington to begin the process of worldwide nuclear disarmament without jeopardizing American safety. We know that Washington has chosen to reject this path, and we can see in the documents produced by the Bush administration that the reasons for this rejection appear to be rooted in Washington's desire to consolidate U.S. control over the world.
But while a desire to control the world may be stronger in top administration officials than a desire to live in peace, this sort of megalomania is not shared by the American public. Polls consistently show overwhelming popular support among Americans for nuclear disarmament - even though the issue is not remotely on the actual political agenda. Ordinary Americans, like ordinary people throughout the world, intuitively understand that it makes no sense to support a policy capable of destroying humankind. We don't even need to think through the issue in some sort of cost-benefit analysis - the pros and cons of nuclear holocaust. It is intuitively obvious that there are only cons. John Mueller uses the example of a person in a hurry trying to decide how best to get from the fifth floor of a building to street level. The person could walk down the stairs - or jump out the window. Faced with such a decision, the person doesn't have to do a set of calculations to realize that the advantage of jumping - getting there faster - would be more than cancelled out by the disadvantage of ending up hopelessly crippled or dead.
And yet, astonishingly, we continue to prepare for the option of jumping out the window. . . .
There's more, and it's very good.
Ending the acceptability and seeming inevitability of war is a dream. But all great human endeavors began with a dream.
when you go to gitmo, stop by the gift shop and pick me up a t-shirt
It was difficult for me to celebrate the recent US Supreme Court ruling striking down the use of "military tribunals" (i.e. fake courts) for supposed terrorism suspects. Until I see that the junta actually complies with the ruling, and replaces their kangaroo courts with real trials, it's just a statement on paper.
You'll recall that in July 2004 there was a 6-3 ruling in favour of the prisoners in Guantanamo. At that time - four years ago - the US Supreme Court said that US courts have jurisdiction over the prisoners, that they can challenge their incarcerations through normal legal methods, and that habeas corpus applies.
The White House ignored it.
In fact, it was in response to that 2004 ruling that the Cheney administration set up the fake courts that were the subject of last week's ruling. Four years later, nothing has changed for the prisoners, most of whom have been there since 2001.
The junta has demonstrated their contempt for the law and the US Constitution over and over again. This ruling could be a turning point in their self-appointed expansion of powers. Or it could be completely ignored. My money is on ignored, and I'll be thrilled to be wrong.
While we wait for that verdict, why not pick up a Gitmo hat or t-shirt? Perhaps a mug or keychain for your mom. From the Washington Post blog Sleuth.
Check out Sleuth for pictures and links.
Do they sell t-shirts at Auschwitz?
You'll recall that in July 2004 there was a 6-3 ruling in favour of the prisoners in Guantanamo. At that time - four years ago - the US Supreme Court said that US courts have jurisdiction over the prisoners, that they can challenge their incarcerations through normal legal methods, and that habeas corpus applies.
The White House ignored it.
In fact, it was in response to that 2004 ruling that the Cheney administration set up the fake courts that were the subject of last week's ruling. Four years later, nothing has changed for the prisoners, most of whom have been there since 2001.
The junta has demonstrated their contempt for the law and the US Constitution over and over again. This ruling could be a turning point in their self-appointed expansion of powers. Or it could be completely ignored. My money is on ignored, and I'll be thrilled to be wrong.
While we wait for that verdict, why not pick up a Gitmo hat or t-shirt? Perhaps a mug or keychain for your mom. From the Washington Post blog Sleuth.
In light of Thursday's Supreme Court ruling on detainees at Guantanamo Bay, we thought it would be a good time to disclose the "presents" we received last week from the gift shop at Gitmo.
The Sleuth's husband, a reporter who went to Guantanamo last week to cover the arraignment of five 9/11 suspects, brought back not one but three surprises: a Guantanamo Bay windbreaker, a baseball cap and a t-shirt. (Honey, you shouldn't have!)
Yes, the Gitmo Naval base actually sells t-shirts, caps and other souvenirs advertising its detainee operations. And apparently, military base officials were thrilled to have reporters buying up goodies at the gift shop for their loved ones back home.
The t-shirt is the most gung-ho of the souvenirs about boasting the base's detainee operations, the future of which, thanks to the Supreme Court, is now in question.
The left breast of the front of the shirt is emblazoned with the words "Operation Enduring Freedom" and "JTF," which stands for Joint Task Force. The back of the shirt, in large lettering, says "JTF GTMO" and in slightly smaller font below it, "DETAINEE OPERATIONS, U.S. NAVAL STATION, GUANTANAMO BAY, CUBA."
Check out Sleuth for pictures and links.
Do they sell t-shirts at Auschwitz?
6.13.2008
norway makes it six
Hooray for Norway! That Scandinavian nation has become the sixth country in the world to legalize same-sex marriage.
Check out the inimitable Slap Upside The Head for a typically wonderful graphic.
Check out the inimitable Slap Upside The Head for a typically wonderful graphic.
why is everyone so upset about tim russert's sudden death?
Pardon me for seeming insensitive. I hope by now you know I am not an insensitive person. People are expressing shock, grief, and deep sorrow over the death of US media personality Tim Russert, and I cannot for the life of me understand what all the fuss is about.
People die every day. Did this man actually mean something to everyone, was everyone actually emotionally attached to Tim Russert that they are so blown away by a man's sudden heart attack?
If you knew someone personally, of course you are upset at their death.
If you were very attached to someone's work, such as an artist or musician or political figure who meant a lot to you, yes, of course.
But a news commenter? A corporate media pundit?
It's sad for his family and friends, but many families lost people today, and the day before, and tomorrow, and the day after that.
What's more, people are acting like Russert was the second coming of Edward R. Murrow or Nellie Bly. Tim Russert was on the front lines of the Bush-Cheney-Rumsfeld's propaganda team, selling the invasion of Iraq. He was one of the many who gave Bush the candidate a free ride while treating bogus accusations like "swift boats" as fact. He was one of the reasons the US media is in the shape it's in. To anyone who cares about good journalism, he should not be missed.
People die every day. Did this man actually mean something to everyone, was everyone actually emotionally attached to Tim Russert that they are so blown away by a man's sudden heart attack?
If you knew someone personally, of course you are upset at their death.
If you were very attached to someone's work, such as an artist or musician or political figure who meant a lot to you, yes, of course.
But a news commenter? A corporate media pundit?
It's sad for his family and friends, but many families lost people today, and the day before, and tomorrow, and the day after that.
What's more, people are acting like Russert was the second coming of Edward R. Murrow or Nellie Bly. Tim Russert was on the front lines of the Bush-Cheney-Rumsfeld's propaganda team, selling the invasion of Iraq. He was one of the many who gave Bush the candidate a free ride while treating bogus accusations like "swift boats" as fact. He was one of the reasons the US media is in the shape it's in. To anyone who cares about good journalism, he should not be missed.
beijing offends, apologizes, then tries again
When the guide for volunteers at the Beijing Paralympics was published, athletes with disabilities - and their advocates and fans - were shocked. The manual was crammed with outdated, offensive, and downright stupid language, more in keeping with the 19th Century than the 21st.
This story in Australia's Herald Sun says Beijing organizers could use a "swift education in political correctness". I'd say they could use a lesson in humanity, decency and plain old common sense.
I was so flabbergasted when I read this, I hardly knew where to begin. This column in the (California) Contra Costa Times does a nice job.
After a nearly global outcry, Beijing organizers apologized, pulled the offensive manual and said they will publish a new volunteer guide.
Some people have tried to explain this away as a "cultural misunderstanding". I've met Paralympic athletes from many countries, including many developing nations. Most told me about strong national and community support for athletes with disabilities. If official Chinese culture is this behind the times on disability, then it shouldn't be hosting the Paralympics.
This story in Australia's Herald Sun says Beijing organizers could use a "swift education in political correctness". I'd say they could use a lesson in humanity, decency and plain old common sense.
Disabled people can be unsocial, stubborn, controlling, and defensive according to an official Beijing Olympics guide.
The Olympic manual for volunteers in Beijing is peppered with patronising comments, noting for example that physically disabled people are "often" mentally healthy.
Volunteers at the Olympics and Paralympics are instructed not to call Paralympians or disabled spectators "crippled" or "lame", even if they are "just joking".
The document, which indicates the Chinese hosts could use a swift education in political correctness, says the optically disabled "seldom show strong emotions".
"Physically disabled people are often mentally healthy," adds the guide.
"They show no differences in sensation, reaction, memorisation and thinking mechanism from other people, but they might have unusual personalities because of disfigurement and disability.
"For example, some physically disabled are isolated, unsocial, and introspective; they usually do not volunteer to contact people.
"They can be stubborn and controlling; they may be sensitive and struggle with trust issues.
"Sometimes they are overly protective of themselves, especially when they are called crippled or paralysed."
Volunteers are instructed never to "stare at their disfigurement".
"A patronising or condescending attitude will be easily sensed by them, even for a brain damaged patient (though he cannot control his limbs, he is able to see and understand like other people).
"Like most, he can read your body language," says the 2008 volunteer guide.
"Show respect when you talk with them.
"Do not use cripple or lame, even if you are just joking.
"Though life has handed many difficulties to them, disabled people are often independent and self-reliant.
"Volunteers should offer assistance on a basis of equality and mutual respect...
"Disabled people can be defensive and have a strong sense of inferiority."
I was so flabbergasted when I read this, I hardly knew where to begin. This column in the (California) Contra Costa Times does a nice job.
Perhaps the authors never met Staff Sgt. Josh Olson, a veteran of the Iraq War who lost his leg to a roadside bomb and now uses his marksmanship skills as a shooter on the U.S. Paralympic team.
If they had, they would never say he has a "strong sense of inferiority."
Maybe they've never come across swimmer Jessica Long, a double below-the-knee amputee with her heart set on a huge medal haul inside Beijing's "Water Cube." If they had, there's no way they would describe her as "isolated, unsocial and introspective."
Surely, they've never gotten to know me, a basketball-player-turned-sportswriter born with mild cerebral palsy. If they had, they certainly wouldn't claim I have an "unusual personality because of (a) disfigurement or disability."
Yet all of those sweeping generalizations still came to the surface inside a training manual given to volunteers of both this summer's Olympic and Paralympic Games. Ignorance, backwards thinking and a poor choice of words are all rolled into a 20-page section titled "Skills for helping the disabled."
On the surface, such material seems well-intended, but those good intentions are almost totally lost upon a single reading. Instead, a helpful tool comes across as a cruel, humorless joke crafted by people who don't know the first thing about discretion or tact.
Exhibit A: "Paralympic athletes and disabled spectators are a special group. They have unique personalities and ways of thinking."
Exhibit B: "Sometimes they are overly protective of themselves. ... Do not use 'crippled' or 'lame,' even if you are just joking."
The language is so offensive, so over the top, Olympic organizers recently requested a rewrite and on Monday offered an apology. Quite frankly, that's exactly what they should've done.
When it comes to human-rights issues, China is already under an intense microscope because of its actions in Tibet and Darfur. To paint such a broad picture of disabled athletes using a purely stereotypical brush certainly doesn't help. And it hardly meshes with the open-arms idea of the Olympic movement.
Zhang Qiuping, director of Beijing's Paralympic Games, told the Associated Press, "Probably it's a cultural difference and mistranslation. ... We've already asked the author to modify the relevant content."
Even if there was something lost in translation, is such a guideline really necessary? Who requires tangible literature to understand the simple notion of decency, tolerance and respect? And if enlightenment truly is required, can't it be obtained on the playing field, where every competitor in Beijing has overcome sizable, deeply personal obstacles just to get there?
Consider Olson. His life was forever changed when a rocket-propelled grenade hit his truck while on night patrol in Northern Iraq in 2003, severing his right leg. Olson spent months at Walter Reed Army Medical Center and was later invited to compete on the U.S. Army marksmanship unit, a break that kick-started his Olympic dream.
"For me, it is an opportunity," said Olson, recipient of the Purple Heart. "I was always taught growing up to never quit."
What about Long? The 2006 Paralympian of the Year, she was born without the long bones in both of her legs. At 18 months, she had surgery to remove her misshapen feet.
When we met in April, Long, now 16, recounted a story of watching the kids in her neighborhood run up a hill with little effort, knowing it would be hard for her to do the same because the surface wasn't flat (she gets around using prosthetics). I instantly began to nod. Having a disability sometimes means routine tasks require great effort, but you dig deep and get the job done.
"I think I got my determination from my disability," said Long, who won nine gold medals at the 2006 world championships and last year beat out Michael Phelps and Candace Parker for the Sullivan Award. "There's nothing I can't do. It's better to (think like that) than staying in my room and being ashamed."
If the volunteers in Beijing really need "skills for helping the disabled," that's the best insight they could ask for.
After a nearly global outcry, Beijing organizers apologized, pulled the offensive manual and said they will publish a new volunteer guide.
Some people have tried to explain this away as a "cultural misunderstanding". I've met Paralympic athletes from many countries, including many developing nations. Most told me about strong national and community support for athletes with disabilities. If official Chinese culture is this behind the times on disability, then it shouldn't be hosting the Paralympics.
terrific european news feature on iraq war resisters in canada
France24, a French TV channel, has a terrific English-language feature on the Iraq War resisters in Canada. They were with us on the bus to Ottawa and in the House of Commons while we watched the vote. I hope you'll take 13 minutes of your day to watch this. It's great!
Watch here.
Watch here.
what i'm reading: holding the bully's coat, by linda mcquaig
I started and finished Holding the Bully's Coat - Canada and the U.S. Empire by Linda McQuaig without finding a chance to blog about it, so here goes.
This is a very interesting and, I think, important book. For anyone interested in modern Canadian history and current Canadian foreign policy, especially as it relates to the United States, it's a very worthwhile read. Even people who are well versed in Canadian history and politics may learn a few things, and to someone like me who is just catching up, it was fascinating.
As you may recall, I've been put off by much of the rhetoric and (what I see as) scare-mongering put out by the No Deep Integration movement - talk of secret agendas, superhighways that supposedly threaten sovereignty, and so forth. It's not that I would ever support Deep Integration; it's that no one has been able to show me there is an actual threat.
Holding the Bully's Coat has helped me understand this from a different angle: it's not so much the end of Canada, the country, that we need to worry about, as it is Canada charting its own course of foreign policy, rather than tagging along with the United States. Do we want to spend our taxes on building a healthier and more just society, or do we want to help the US bully the world, while increasing the profits of US-based military industries? Do we want a foreign policy that emphasizes international cooperation and peacekeeping, or one that supports aggression and empire?
McQuaig also confirms my understanding that, when it comes to foreign policy, the Liberals have not been very different than the current Conservative government. Liberal supporters who were so horrified by the Conservative's election would do well to pressure their preferred party to get out of bed with the US, too.
The book gives a good overview of Canada's international role since the second World War, the birth of peacekeeping, and when Canada's military stopped being used for peacekeeping and started taking on more aggressive stance that neatly dovetails with US priorities.
Much of Holding the Bully's Coat is about the illegality, immorality and brutality of US foreign policy, with an eye towards how Canadian foreign policy often helps support it. McQuaig shows how how media figures, academics and business leaders perpetuate the idea that Canada is better served by aligning itself with the US and imitating its model - huge military spending, unchecked energy consumption, plutocracy, unaddressed gross social inequality - than by adopting a European model of international cooperation, social spending, attempts to ameliorate social inequality, and peacekeeping.
As always, there is a profit motive behind this alignment. Of course that is seldom shown to the Canadian public. A war - or mission, as the Canadian euphemism goes - needs a loftier justification, like democracy, freedom, liberation, and so forth. But we know that war is seldom about such ideals. And now, there is another layer of justification for Canadian military involvement.
McQuaig writes about the Canadian defence industry, and its behind-the-scenes pressure to move the military away from priorities of peacekeeping and internationalism, towards an aggressive, US-based orientation.
[Thus when the Soviet Union collapsed, eliminating the decades-long justification for massive military spending in the US, the citizens of the US never benefited from that elusive "peace dividend". Instead, a new enemy was presented to us. Exit communism, enter terrorism. For more on this, see the movie "Why We Fight".]
Helping the US militarily isn't the only way that Canada "holds the bully's coat". McQuaig points to Canada's often obstructionist environmental policies - on the Kyoto Protocols, the export of asbestos, bottom trawling, the human right to clean water and of course on the oil sands. Did you know Canada continues to be one of the world's leading exporters of asbestos, a deadly toxin, with almost all of its exports going to developing countries, where standards for use are poor or not enforced? Every member of the European Union and Australia support adding asbestos to the treaties that restrict trade in toxic substances. Canada continues to lobby against the ban.
And again, it doesn't appear that the Conservatives are very different than the Liberals on these issues. Whether or not the next Liberal government will reverse that trend remains to be seen, but so far, Liberal policies on the environment have been window dressing, inaction, or obstruction.
Tomorrow, I will post a lengthy, stand-alone excerpt from Holding the Bully's Coat, about war and its abolition.
I'm now reading Stephen Kinzer's Overthrow - America's Century of Regime Change, often recommended by wmtc readers. I've just started it and am already completely engrossed.
This is a very interesting and, I think, important book. For anyone interested in modern Canadian history and current Canadian foreign policy, especially as it relates to the United States, it's a very worthwhile read. Even people who are well versed in Canadian history and politics may learn a few things, and to someone like me who is just catching up, it was fascinating.
As you may recall, I've been put off by much of the rhetoric and (what I see as) scare-mongering put out by the No Deep Integration movement - talk of secret agendas, superhighways that supposedly threaten sovereignty, and so forth. It's not that I would ever support Deep Integration; it's that no one has been able to show me there is an actual threat.
Holding the Bully's Coat has helped me understand this from a different angle: it's not so much the end of Canada, the country, that we need to worry about, as it is Canada charting its own course of foreign policy, rather than tagging along with the United States. Do we want to spend our taxes on building a healthier and more just society, or do we want to help the US bully the world, while increasing the profits of US-based military industries? Do we want a foreign policy that emphasizes international cooperation and peacekeeping, or one that supports aggression and empire?
McQuaig also confirms my understanding that, when it comes to foreign policy, the Liberals have not been very different than the current Conservative government. Liberal supporters who were so horrified by the Conservative's election would do well to pressure their preferred party to get out of bed with the US, too.
The book gives a good overview of Canada's international role since the second World War, the birth of peacekeeping, and when Canada's military stopped being used for peacekeeping and started taking on more aggressive stance that neatly dovetails with US priorities.
Much of Holding the Bully's Coat is about the illegality, immorality and brutality of US foreign policy, with an eye towards how Canadian foreign policy often helps support it. McQuaig shows how how media figures, academics and business leaders perpetuate the idea that Canada is better served by aligning itself with the US and imitating its model - huge military spending, unchecked energy consumption, plutocracy, unaddressed gross social inequality - than by adopting a European model of international cooperation, social spending, attempts to ameliorate social inequality, and peacekeeping.
As always, there is a profit motive behind this alignment. Of course that is seldom shown to the Canadian public. A war - or mission, as the Canadian euphemism goes - needs a loftier justification, like democracy, freedom, liberation, and so forth. But we know that war is seldom about such ideals. And now, there is another layer of justification for Canadian military involvement.
Although the plight of Afghan women has been a major selling point for the war, there has also been a determined effort by the Canadian defence establishment to deftly move the focus away from soft, humanitarian considerations - like helping desperate women - to more geopolitical purposes, like fighting terrorism. Thus, [military historian] Jack Granatstein declares: "The war on terror is a reality and Canadians are targets, no matter how we try to convince ourselves that the world loves us. It doesn't." The attempt is to make Canadians feel at risk of terrorist attacks, simply for being part of the Western world, and to erase the connection between terrorist attacks on the U.S. and the U.S.'s history of military intervention in that part of the world.
Of course, Canada could well be the victim of terrorism. Canadians were stunned by the arrests of seventeen young Canadian Muslims in June 2006, on charges of plotting terrorist attacks in Canada. It's difficult to know what to make of these alleged plots, which seem to have been at least partly encouraged by undercover government agents. Let's just note at this point that the charges have not yet been proven in court.
[Ed note: let's also note that no evidence was ever presented to the US public about the terrorists attacks there. We're supposed to take those liars' word for it about how it all went down. Back to McQuaig.]
It should also be noted that Canada's past insulation from terrorist attacks is almost certainly connected to the fact that we haven't provoked rage abroad as the U.S. has - or as Britain and Spain did with their support for the U.S invasion of Iraq. Our insulation, of course, could change as we get more fully on board with the U.S. "war on terror." Granatstein's assertion that the world doesn't love Canada - whether true or not - could well become a self-fulfilling prophecy if we behave aggressively in the world or connect ourselves directly with the aggressive actions of others.
In the summer of 2005, Canadian major general Andrew Leslie explained why the war in Afghanistan will be long - because, he said, "every time you kill an angry young man overseas, you're creating fifteen more who will come after you." This might seem like a good reason not to go over there and kill angry young men.
Granatsein goes on to hint at what is more likely the real purpose of our venture in Afghanistan: to please the United States. "Our superpower neighbour, the nation to which 87 per cent of our exports go and on which our security depends, has been attacked and is still under threat, but somehow Canadians have not grasped that they are involved. We are." Similary, Sean Maloney, a professor at the Royal Military College in Kingston, suggested in an article in The Walrus that "the thinking [in Ottawa] may be that we will finally resolve the softwood lumber issue and keep our border open to trade by lessening America's burden in Afghanistan."
Now hold it a minute. How did the softwood lumber issue and the fact that 87 per cent of our exports go to the U.S. creep into a discussion of our military involvement in Afghanistan? Is it concern about our trade balance that compels us into battle? This might come as a surprise to Canadian soldiers fighting over there, hyped up on a message of the life-and-death imporatance of their mission, on the need to help the desperate people of Afghanistan and rid the world of terrorists. Is it actually increased profit margins for the Canadian lumber industry that they're risking their lives for? This focus on the Canada-U.S. trading relationship also raises an interesting question: does the fact that Canada has extensive trade ties and common security arrangements with the U.S. oblige us to join in the US's wars?
Advocates of closer economic and military ties with the U.S. have always denied that such ties infringe on our sovereignty. So why are these ties even being raised here? Do these ties restrict our freedom of action, oblige us to participate in America's wars, or don't they? If they do, this would seem to be a compelling argument for loosening these ties, for developing more independent economic and military policies, in order to free ourselves of such obligations. If they don't, they shouldn't be part of a discussion about the purpose of our missison in Afghanistan.
The possibility that we are in Afghanistan to curry favour with Washington - to help make up for the fact that we sat out the Iraq war - is disturbing, and not just because it suggests a colonial mentality. It also suggests that, for the sake of enhancing our leverage in a trade relationship, we are willing to participate in a war to which we are not connected, and in which there is no evidence that we are making anything better in that country and very possibly making things worse. It suggests that in order to smooth relations with Washington, we are killing people in Afghanistan and handing others over to torture.
McQuaig writes about the Canadian defence industry, and its behind-the-scenes pressure to move the military away from priorities of peacekeeping and internationalism, towards an aggressive, US-based orientation.
All this suggests the rise of a mini Canadian military-industrial complex. The Canadian defence industry is actually relatively small. There are some 1,500 companies involved to some extent in arms production, mostly in building components for US weapons systems. A handful of these companies - including CAE, General Dynamics and Bombardier - dominate the industry and get the lion's share of Canada's military contracts. Altogether, the industry generates revenues in the range of $7 billion a year. But its influence is multiplied well beyond this by its close cooperation with the Canadian military, as well as with prominent military-funded think tanks. The result is an influential bloc promoting ever-greater government spending on the military.
The development of a strong defence economy can have important consequences, creating a dynamic for an ever-expanding military. If the number of companies - and citizens - involved in weapons production and the military is significant, they become a potent force politically, pushing for ever more military expansion. Once the nation's economic growth becomes closely tied to military spending, that creates a pressure for ever more military spending, to keep the economy buoyant. This economic dynamic, sometimes called "military Keynesianism," means that the nation's economic well-being becomes integrally connected to high levels of military spending. When this happens, military spending takes on a life of its own, disconnected from the country's actual military needs. What happens if the military threat to the nation declines? The military budget won't necessarily decline, because that would threaten the interests of a sizable sector of the economy - a sector that will use its considerable political clout to prevent a spending reduction.
[Thus when the Soviet Union collapsed, eliminating the decades-long justification for massive military spending in the US, the citizens of the US never benefited from that elusive "peace dividend". Instead, a new enemy was presented to us. Exit communism, enter terrorism. For more on this, see the movie "Why We Fight".]
Helping the US militarily isn't the only way that Canada "holds the bully's coat". McQuaig points to Canada's often obstructionist environmental policies - on the Kyoto Protocols, the export of asbestos, bottom trawling, the human right to clean water and of course on the oil sands. Did you know Canada continues to be one of the world's leading exporters of asbestos, a deadly toxin, with almost all of its exports going to developing countries, where standards for use are poor or not enforced? Every member of the European Union and Australia support adding asbestos to the treaties that restrict trade in toxic substances. Canada continues to lobby against the ban.
And again, it doesn't appear that the Conservatives are very different than the Liberals on these issues. Whether or not the next Liberal government will reverse that trend remains to be seen, but so far, Liberal policies on the environment have been window dressing, inaction, or obstruction.
Tomorrow, I will post a lengthy, stand-alone excerpt from Holding the Bully's Coat, about war and its abolition.
I'm now reading Stephen Kinzer's Overthrow - America's Century of Regime Change, often recommended by wmtc readers. I've just started it and am already completely engrossed.
happy birthday to me
I have been alive on this planet 47 years today. The number is shocking to me, but I'm damn glad to be here. (I feel like quoting Keith, happy to be anywhere.)
Because of work schedules, we celebrated yesterday. And because of wmtc3 and our upcoming Newfoundland trip, I hadn't thought about planning anything. So we went with what's become our favourite Toronto place to celebrate, Jamie Kennedy Wine Bar.
If you like small plates or tapas-style eating, and you like a stylish wine bar atmosphere and excellent service, this place is tops. They also use almost all local ingredients and work with Canadian food artisans, with superb results. This restaurant is also home to one of Toronto's great food finds: the Yukon Gold frites, a generous cone of the best French fries you will ever eat for a mere five bucks. (I noticed I blogged about Jamie Kennedy Wine Bar on two other birthdays, both mine and Allan's!)
After enjoying several small plates of deliciousness with several small glasses of wine, we drove out to Scarborough and took a walk on the Lake in Bluffer's Park. We hadn't been there yet, and it's a beautiful park. Is there a way to walk on the cliffs, above the park? We didn't see any access.
On the road where The Beaches turns into Scarborough are a lot of sad-looking businesses and many empty storefronts. I wondered if some big development is in the works; so many unrented stores often points to that. Also, who stays at all those cheap motels? The old motel strip in Etobicoke, not far from where we used to live in Port Credit, is all closed now. But the ones in Scarborough are all open for business. There are at least a dozen of them.
Today I'm spending a quiet day at home, reading and blogging. Allan's still sleeping, so I haven't seen any presents yet, but I know they're in the works.
Because of work schedules, we celebrated yesterday. And because of wmtc3 and our upcoming Newfoundland trip, I hadn't thought about planning anything. So we went with what's become our favourite Toronto place to celebrate, Jamie Kennedy Wine Bar.
If you like small plates or tapas-style eating, and you like a stylish wine bar atmosphere and excellent service, this place is tops. They also use almost all local ingredients and work with Canadian food artisans, with superb results. This restaurant is also home to one of Toronto's great food finds: the Yukon Gold frites, a generous cone of the best French fries you will ever eat for a mere five bucks. (I noticed I blogged about Jamie Kennedy Wine Bar on two other birthdays, both mine and Allan's!)
After enjoying several small plates of deliciousness with several small glasses of wine, we drove out to Scarborough and took a walk on the Lake in Bluffer's Park. We hadn't been there yet, and it's a beautiful park. Is there a way to walk on the cliffs, above the park? We didn't see any access.
On the road where The Beaches turns into Scarborough are a lot of sad-looking businesses and many empty storefronts. I wondered if some big development is in the works; so many unrented stores often points to that. Also, who stays at all those cheap motels? The old motel strip in Etobicoke, not far from where we used to live in Port Credit, is all closed now. But the ones in Scarborough are all open for business. There are at least a dozen of them.
Today I'm spending a quiet day at home, reading and blogging. Allan's still sleeping, so I haven't seen any presents yet, but I know they're in the works.
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