Over Chai

What Christie Blatchford Did Not Get About Layton-mania

I think Jack Layton himself could never have anticipated the tsunami of emotion that would wash over this city, indeed this country, with his sudden and untimely death.

What started out as one chalk message by a lone woman at Nathan Phillips Square quoting Jack’s optimistic message in his last public communiqué, grew until every inch of concrete was covered in messages filled with respect and admiration for a most beloved politician.

Crowds across the nation gathered spontaneously to unite in shock and grief.

Media outlets put together touching retrospectives and programs about the man and his mission, and with almost single-minded focus, dedicated much of their airtime to Jack Layton’s final journey to Ottawa and subsequent return to his hometown, Toronto.

The twittersphere was ablaze with minute-by-minute coverage of everything Jack.

Luminaries, dignitaries and, most importantly, the general public assembled by the masses to bid him an emotional farewell.

And on the eve of the official State funeral, the CN Tower and the Niagara Falls were lit up in orange as final salutes.

It was remarkable, a phenomenon, something rare to witness.  The extraordinary impact of one life on so many others. 

But was it all too much?  Was it, in the words of Christie Blatchford “a thoroughly public spectacle”?

In an article published in the National Post the day after Jack Layton’s death, Blatchford was blunt in her criticism of the media’s near-obsession with this story to the exclusion of all other local and international news.  (See: http://fullcomment.nationalpost.com/2011/08/22/christie-blatchford-laytons-death-turns-into-a-thoroughly-public-spectacle/)

Blatchford was equally harsh about the public’s display of grief:  “[T]he public over-the-top nature of such events — by fans for lost celebrities they never met, by television personalities for those they interviewed once for 10 minutes, by the sad and lost for the dead — make it if not impossible then difficult to separate the mourning wheat from the mourning chaff”.

Her critique did not spare even the late Leader of the Opposition.  She called Jack’s letter, his final message to Canadians, vainglorious and said, “Who thinks to leave a 1,000-word missive meant for public consumption … “ and “Who seriously writes of himself, ‘All my life I have worked to make things better’?”

Her cynical and provocative journalistic opinion unleashed a virtual maelstrom.  While a few brave souls ventured to publicly endorse her views, there was an overwhelming backlash from virtually all quarters.

And yet, we live in Canada, a democratic nation with a Charter of Rights and Freedoms that guarantees the freedom of expression.  This right is a cornerstone for a functioning democracy, essential to ensuring free and public debate.   Jack believed in public debate.  Dissenting voices are crucial.  Indeed, Jack was often one of them. 

We cannot muffle voices just because of a difference of opinion.  To do so would be to undermine the very political system we believe in so strongly.

And, so, Christie Blatchford had the right to express her views, both as an individual and as a journalist.

Then why, for so many, did it feel so wrong?

What was it about the life and death of Jack Layton that was so profoundly moving?

Undoubtedly, Jack’s seemingly selfless devotion to various public causes such as homelessness, HIV/AIDS and the environment, which he championed passionately, elevated him in the eyes of virtually everyone.

His lack of guile, his down-to-earth attitude, his ability to reach out and relate to the common person demystified him and made him somebody that people they felt they knew, almost like a family member, even if they had never met him.

His willingness to fight for the underdog, to listen to anyone with a problem, to commit to what he viewed as just and fair, endeared him to the masses.

His commanding ability to communicate effectively in three languages, two official and one musical, increased his popularity across borders, age and interests.

Perhaps it was also the cruel irony that at the very pinnacle of his political career, he was in the battle of his life, and fought so valiantly but, in the end, lost.

And then his smile, oh his smile!, which will be as sorely missed in the House of Commons as it will be in the hearts and minds of Canadians young and old.

Whatever it was, in Jack Layton there was that extraordinary combination of elements that resulted in rare and true greatness.  And that, intuitively, is what people responded to en masse in the un-orchestrated outpouring of sadness over the loss of an important figure in this country.

Ultimately, in my view, Christie Blatchford can express her views, however unpopular.  That is her right. 

But, in the end, it is her loss for not being able to shed her cynicism and allow herself to be touched by a great soul that once walked among us.

 

Growing Up Bollywood

One sunny afternoon a couple of summers ago, my husband and I were strolling along the boardwalk at the Beaches, and paused at a bench to soak in the sights and sounds of summer.  A young woman, the mother of three energetic little kids, paused to catch her breath at the same bench, and it was not long before we struck up a lively conversation.  She was of Greek heritage, we told her we were of Indian heritage.

“Oh,” she exclaimed and began singing, “Aap Jaisa Koi Meri Zindagi Mai Aye….”

The 1980 hit movie Qurbani. 

Nostalgia.  A flood of memories.

As a child growing up in an Indian household, Bollywood films (though we never referred to them as such back then, they were simply ‘Hindi movies’) were a staple source of family entertainment.  We would gather together on weekends when we could spare the three-and-a-half hours, my mom would make hot fried pakoras and chai for our intermission snack and we would watch predictable though delightfully entertaining plots unfold.  We enjoyed those cozy family times filled with the simple joy of togetherness, while invisible threads drew us closer to a culture that we had mostly only known remotely.

Sometimes we would gather at friends’ homes and enjoy the hullaballoo of a Hindi movie playing amidst the laughter and chitter-chatter of all our Aunties (the Uncles were usually absorbed in a serious card game).

And on the rare occasion, when we visited India, we would go to a cinema with relatives and enjoy the authentic experience, complete with an intermission in the middle of the movie when everyone would get freshly fried hot samosas and mingle with friends.

Wonderful meaningful memories, to be sure, but in the end was it all just empty, mindless entertainment?  Sitting on that park bench and hearing about the Saturday night tradition that this Greek family had created for itself during which they would watch Hindi films and eat Indian food caused me a moment’s pause to reflect on the impact that Hindi films had had on my life.

They have given me some of my favourite songs of all time, the kind that speak to the soul from movies like Kabhi Kabhi and Umrao Jaan, the kind that compel me to dance with abandon like Koi Kahe Kehta Rahe, and the kind that make me want to sing at the top of my lungs like Kajrare.

They have dazzled me with the breathtaking array of exquisitely designed outfits and jewels that continue to inspire fashion trends in the global diaspora communities.

They have given me an understanding of the Indian culture, celebrations, rituals, values and traditions that define who we are as a people.

They taught me Hindi in the best classroom of all, the family room of my childhood home.

They inspired the Classical Indian dancer in me.

But it goes even deeper than all that.

They reinforced a profound sense of pride in calling myself an Indian, and emotionally bonded me to India forever.

Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have to fry some pakoras for my kids before intermission is over.

___________

* Originally published on The Agenda with Steve Paikin website: 

 http://www.tvo.org/cfmx/tvoorg/theagenda/index.cfm?page_id=3&action=blog&subaction=viewpost&post_id=16869&blog_id=323

Related videos on The Agenda with Steve Paikin:

1. On being a Canadian-born Indian:  http://bit.ly/kX2vjl

2. Hooray for Bollywood:  http://bit.ly/kg1ign

The Ethnic Vote 2011: Props to You

I have often been told that I should go into politics.  Maybe it is because I love a good debate, immensely enjoy interacting with people and want to make our world a better place.

 

Nothing like a federal election to remind me of the less savoury side of politics!

 

At the end of the day, the thirst for power is the driver that trumps everything else, and all the platform promises and handshakes, the photo-ops and overtures to special interest groups are about getting that vote.

 

Cynical?  Perhaps.  

 

But consider the so-called ethnic vote. 

 

It is true that ethnic populations are on the rise in Canada and that the sheer numbers can influence the outcome of the vote.

 

It is also true the changing demographic patterns of the country have been duly noted by the political elite, and that their strategies include appealing to these diverse groups. 

 

In and of itself, this makes perfect sense. 

 

So what’s the problem?  In a nutshell, opportunism. 

 

There are a range of problems and challenges that ethnic populations face on an ongoing basis, for instance, settlement and integration, recognition of foreign credentials and delays in reuniting with family abroad.  (I hasten to add that there are also a number of issues that they share with many other Canadians, such as affordable housing and job opportunities.)

 

In the ongoing business of governing this country, these issues are occasionally given some attention, but by and large, these systemic challenges remain unresolved.

 

And then we come to election time.

 

Suddenly, we learn from leaked confidential documents that the political strategy of at least one party includes identifying key “ethnic” and “very ethnic” ridings in which to advertise aggressively to court the vote.  (Good idea, focus on the message rather than the real issues.)

 

People are asked to attend rallies in their “ethnic costumes”.  (Is it Hallowe’en?)

 

Political leaders make every effort to find supporters from ethnic communities to lend credence to their policies and parties.  In some cases, token ethnic candidates are improperly vetted in a rush to get diverse candidates on the ballot.  (Can anyone say tokenism?)

 

And there are the photo-ops with dancing Bollywood stars, appearances at places of worship, at community celebrations …

 

This is the thing:

… [I]f they really want to build sustained support, the government should follow up its rhetoric with long-term policies to help newcomers integrate and experience socio-economic and political mobility. Why not recruit promising candidates from non-white backgrounds? And what of the party’s $53-million cut to immigrant settlement agencies (85 per cent of those cuts in Ontario)? While more immigrants are now settling in Alberta and Saskatchewan, the lion’s share still choose to live in Toronto, Vancouver and Montreal. Immigrants have been harder hit by the recession and have higher unemployment rates than their native-born counterparts – even when they are better educated. This – and not cricket matches [ads] and television ads – is ultimately what immigrants are likely to care about. [Source: www.theglobeandmail.com/news/opinions/editorials/ethnic-targeting-shocking/article1931691/]

 

If our political leaders got this, ethnic communities would cease to be mere props to their political objectives, and instead would be giving “props” to them!

 

Final Word:

 

What can we do?  Inform ourselves about the parties’ policies and VOTE!

 

If you would like to see how your views align with the parties positions on various issues, check out CBC’s Vote Compass at:  www.cbc.ca/news/politics/canadavotes2011/votecompass/

 

We Are All Egyptians Now

by Alok Sood MD., with Niru Kumar 

Mahatma Gandhi would be proud; his legacy to the world found new expression this past month throughout the Arab World.

What started with the desperate act of self-immolation by a fruit seller in Tunisia blossomed into a Gandhian non-violent protest and civil disobedience by hundreds of thousands of people in at least eight countries.  A regional domino effect of passions ignited.

There is something exciting that stirs the soul and unites humanity when democratic will is being exerted in such grand fashion.

As a South Asian Canadian, I am proud of Gandhi’s gift to humanity: satyagraha or peaceful, passive resistance.  The people of Egypt and Tunisia achieved their goals of ousting entrenched and corrupt autocratic rulers while never ceding the moral high ground.  It was a civic movement in the truest sense of the word, swelling in numbers from the ground up until the ruling party of the day was stripped of any moral and legal governing authority.

I can only imagine what it would be like to be an Egyptian on the streets of Cairo today.

I have experienced first-hand the delirious euphoria of sudden freedom after decades of repression when I visited the Czech Republic as a backpacker in 1990.  It had been mere months since the collapse of the Berlin wall and the lifting of the iron curtain.  The vibe in the street was electric and the joy of the masses palpable.  Smiles were everywhere and crowds were bountiful.  Street performers entertained on grand promenades and everyone, locals and tourists alike, felt incredibly alive.

As Canadians, we are blessed to have never needed a revolution to be granted our basic civil and political freedoms, including the fundamental right to free expression.  The Constitution Act and the more recent Charter of Rights and Freedoms assure citizens of their fundamental rights in civic society.  Canada exemplifies not only democracy as an ideology, but also the application of democratic principles. 

Since the founding of this great nation, Quebec’s distinct language and culture within mainstream Canada has been the subject of intensely divergent political views, with some arguing for a bilingual and united Canada, while others argue for outright secession.  Passionate supporters of a separate Quebec periodically resurrect the issue and bring the tension to a boiling point.  Anyone who lived in Montreal in 1980 or 1995 bore witness to large-scale political demonstrations.  I, myself, took part in the massive pro-Canada (anti-separation) rallies in 1995.  A hundred thousand people uniting for a single purpose is simply electric.  It is nothing short of democratic expression in all its glory.

 

So, while I have never visited Egypt or Tunisia and should otherwise feel no particular affiliation with their people, I can’t help but feel proud of them and wish, for a brief moment in time, that I were Egyptian so that I could revel in the toppling of a corrupt regime and witness first-hand the emergence of a democracy in a region that has never known it.  Since this is not possible, I will simply wish them well and smile proudly that this was all achieved through Gandhian means.

 

Tiger Mom vs. Mama Bear – Which One Would You Rather Be?

Tiger Mom Amy Chua has rocked the “Western” mom-osphere with her new book Battle Hymn of the Tiger Mother, becoming the latest flashpoint in the parenting world.

 

For an in-depth discussion, check out The Agenda with Steve Paikin, which dedicated a full hour to this issue: http://www.tvo.org/cfmx/tvoorg/theagenda/index.cfm?page_id=7&bpn=779938&ts=2011-01-21%2020:00:00.0

 

Her claim is essentially this:  Chinese kids consistently outperform their Western counterparts because of the strict manner in which they have been raised.  Whereas Western parents may encourage learning, they are overall more lax in how far they push their children to achieve academic or artistic excellence.  The Western motto is “try your best” and to praise outcomes that fall short of that best in order to preserve a child’s self-esteem.  Chinese parents, on the other hand, assume strength and not fragility in a child’s character and believe them capable of achieving the best, so they do whatever is necessary in pursuit of the highest standards.  If that means 3 hours of piano practice every night or endless academic drills, then so be it.  For them, happiness follows success.

 

An interesting argument, to be sure.  And, in a way, who can argue with the logic?  After all, there has to be some explanation for the fact that so many Chinese children do turn out to be math whizzes, musical prodigies or other high achievers.

 

Take Amy Chua herself.  A law professor at Yale and the author of published books, by all objective accounts she is eminently accomplished.  She credits her achievements to her strict upbringing by her immigrant Chinese parents, a parenting style Amy Chua now advocates and practices with her own two daughters.  

 

So, for instance, while her two daughters were growing up, they were never allowed to:

• attend a sleepover

• have a playdate

• be in a school play

• complain about not being in a school play

• watch TV or play computer games

• choose their own extracurricular activities

• get any grade less than an A

• not be the No. 1 student in every subject except gym and drama

• play any instrument other than the piano or violin

• not play the piano or violin.

 

Hmmm. 

 

It strikes me that these measures seem a bit extreme.  

 

As parents we walk a fine line on virtually every issue.  For instance, I am now trying to teach my 5-year old about independence while also teaching her about safety vis-à-vis strangers.  Giving her some room to learn for herself is important to her confidence and decision-making abilities, in other words, her personal growth.  But keeping her out of harm’s way is of paramount importance to us.  So we teach her about safety.  We give her some rules and guidelines, and have discussions.  Now consider this:  we could have achieved this same goal by taking the extreme measure of never allowing her to leave home.  We would achieve one goal but significantly impact another.  While Amy Chua’s daughters may be superstar performers at school and in their pre-selected extra-curricular activities, I cannot imagine the absence of some significant impacts on other areas of their development.

 

So here is the way I see it.  Amy Chua’s approach is flawed for 2 principal reasons. 

 

First, she presupposes that her definition of success is the only kind of success that has any value.  To her, to be the A-student or the artistic maestro or to simply be the best, is the only laudable goal.  But is competitiveness really the only worthwhile value in life?  Does being second best or even average make a person’s worth inferior?  What about teaching your children about the value of other worthwhile goals such as emotional happiness, spiritual growth, or social connectivity?  Studies have shown that these factors are significantly relevant to living a well-balanced, fulfilled and happy life.

 

Which brings me to my second problem with her approach.  Balance. Or rather, lack thereof.  Her approach is so imbalanced, without moderation, off-kilter I would suggest.  If success really is a more complex notion than her simplistic definition, then imparting the necessary skills and values to our children is a more nuanced exercise than simply yelling at our kids until they achieve! perform! succeed!  Amy Chua’s harshness and uncompromising nature, her use of disparaging language (calling her daughters “garbage”) when they failed to measure up, her willingness to have screaming fits until they satisfied her standards shocked me. 

 

Now, I do not doubt Amy Chau’s love for her kids.  Rather, I applaud the single-minded dedication with which she imparted her values to her daughters.

 

But I do challenge those values. 

 

And her methodology.

There are other ways of achieving excellence without being a fierce Tiger Mom.  As a case in point, I think it is fair to say that South Asians are a fairly high achieving group, wouldn’t you agree?  I grew up in one of those families, within a larger Punjabi community.  There were rules, even strict ones, and a definitive focus on high academic achievement.  But rather than the ferocity of the Tiger Mom, we were raised with the more tender and protective nudge of a Mama Bear.  

 

I think the results speak for themselves.  And now, I have got to run. My daughter’s friend is coming for a sleepover tonight.

 

Guessing Game: Who am I?

These days, my daughter and I are playing the following game.  I think of someone, real or fictitious, and give her clues one at a time and allow her to formulate a guess.

Are you ready?  Read one clue at a time and only move on to the next word if you cannot figure it out.  Okay, here goes:

 

Principled

 

Dedicated

 

Egalitarian

 

Humanitarian

 

Non-violent

 

Lawyer

 

Politician

 

Canadian

 

South Asian

 

… Any guesses who I am talking about?

 

Until I mentioned "Canadian" (or perhaps even "politician"), you probably had Mahatma Gandhi in mind. 

 

The answer?  The Honourable Ujjal Dosanjh, Canada's most prominent South Asian politician and egalitarian.  He is one remarkable human being, and the two are not entirely dissimilar in the way in which they have chosen to live their lives.

 

 

To be sure, there are differences between them, particularly when the scale and scope of their respective achievements and personal sacrifices are considered.  Mahatma Gandhi is the rarest of human beings, the kind that generations of civilization could only hope to see again.  He inspired both greatness and great change, the likes of which are nearly impossible for most to contemplate achieving.

And yet, if we focus the lens on character, moral compass, values and whole-hearted dedication, there are some shared similarities.

Both crossed oceans to chart their own destinies, one to South Africa en route back to India to lead the most inspiring of revolutions against colonial rule, the other to Canada as a trailblazer of human rights believing in the equality of all.

Both self-made, and in many ways self-taught men, they shirked convention and took difficult and potentially unpopular positions in pursuit of greater ideals, whether by burning all foreign-made clothing and spinning home-made cloth or by denouncing extremism within the community and suffering the inevitable backlash.

Both made an unwavering commitment to the principle of non-violence suffering tremendous personal risk and, whether by hunger strikes or actual physical attacks, serious harm in order to achieve it.

Both represent all that we value in a democracy, in liberty and in justice, including the right to be who we are with all the attendant rights and freedoms.

Both even have a great sense of humour!  Gandhi is known for once having said, “I believe in equality for everyone, except reporters and photographers.”  One of the hallmarks of a sense of humour is the ability to laugh at oneself, and in North America, high profile politicians who can take it make appearances on programs like This Hour has 22 Minutes or The Daily Show with Jon Stewart for some good-natured ribbing.  Gandhi never had quite this opportunity, but on his official website, Ujjal Dosanjh has posted a hilarious video of an “interview” he granted to Stephen Colbert.  Check it out:

http://vimeo.com/9899241 

http://ujjaldosanjh.liberal.ca/page/2/

Many of these similarities are hardly the result of pure chance or coincidence. 

In 1973, years before he became a cabinet minister, Ujjal Dosanjh put down his legal textbooks during the winter holidays and picked up Gandhi’s autobiography. Though born in India, the young law student had never read the seminal work of his country’s revered pacifist, and those evenings by the fireplace became a turning point in his political thinking.

The rejection of violence as a political tool has been a key feature of Mr. Dosanjh’s career, which included stints as premier of British Columbia and federal health minister, and is a central idea in a new documentary about his life.  [See: http://www.theglobeandmail.com/news/politics/ujjal-dosanjh-stands-up-to-extremism-in-life-politics-and-on-film/article1697101/]

The documentary about the life of Ujjal Dosanjh, Travelling Light: A Journey with Ujjal Dosanjh, is currently in post-production and will air on OMNI in the near future.

Ujjal Dosanjh’s early formed political views made him a vocal opponent of violence and extremism by Sikhs who advocated for an independent state of Punjab, or Khalistan.  In 1985, he was beaten in the parking lot of his law practice by someone wielding an iron bar and suffered a broken hand and head injuries requiring 80 stitches.  Most people would stop broadcasting their views.  Not Mr. Dosanjh.  In 1999, a burning Molotov cocktail was left burning on a table in his constituency office.  And earlier this year, he received death threats after an interview in which he suggested that extremism is on the rise again in Canada.   He has extended his principles to condemn other groups that espouse violence, including Tamil Tigers and Islamic radicals.  On other fronts, he was the first provincial leader to march in a gay pride parade, he is an ardent champion of the universality of the Canadian health care system, and still adopts causes both here and abroad, now focusing his attention on the stateless plight of the Roma in Europe.  These views and actions speak volumes about the character of a man.

I recently had an opportunity to meet Mr. Dosanjh.  He was the keynote speaker at the South Asian Bar Association Awards (SABA) Gala event.  I shook his hand and spoke of my admiration for him.  But, in the few moments that I had his attention, I could hardly convey what I really wanted to.

So Mr. Dosanjh, if you are reading this, this one’s for you.

 

The Un-Common Commonwealth Games

No doubt about it.  There was nothing common at all about the much-anticipated Commonwealth Games, or its media coverage, hosted by India over the past couple of weeks.

Images and stories wired around the globe by every possible news source prior to the opening ceremonies: a collapsed footbridge causing serious injury to dozens, poor sanitation standards in some quarters of the athletes’ village, a handful of athletes withdrawing from competition.

The global gasp was almost audible.

The world held its collective breath to see how India’s showpiece to the world would fare amidst allegations of corruption, ballooning costs, mismanagement, maltreatment of the poor, potential large and small scale security threats and shoddy workmanship. The media held everything under a microscope for international judgment and condemnation.  And rightly so.  And it was not just India’s bourgeoning reputation as a global player that was on the line.  People of Indian extraction everywhere suffered a tarnishing of national pride, an embarrassment that the Indian government and Delhi Organizing Committee exposed India’s shortcomings in such a grand and public manner.

It seemed that nothing short of a miracle would be needed for India to pull this off successfully.  By all accounts, this was India’s own Mt. Everest to climb.

And then the nearly unthinkable happened … nothing.  Nothing out of the ordinary, that is.

Oh sure, there were reports of Delhi-belly causing some athletes to suffer, problems with some weighing scales and initial poor attendance at some venues.  But what games haven’t suffered some - what I would call - minor issues to cope with?  Or for that matter, even major ones?  The Vancouver 2010 Winter Olympics, for one, suffered a terrific blow at the outset of the Games with the tragic death of an athlete during a practice run on the luge track.  Not from lack of planning, admittedly, but bad things can - and do - happen.  

In India’s case, not only were there systemic challenges such as widespread corruption (hey, take India as you find it; this is a well-documented fact commonly known from well before the Games were awarded to Delhi), but it also faced real plausible security threats from both within and outside its borders from multiple and unrelated violent-leaning factions.  Think Toronto’s G20 security concerns and then multiply them … many times over.  And this was just one of the many challenges of hosting the Games in India.

So when you consider the record-breaking number of athletes in attendance, the spectacular showmanship of the opening and closing ceremonies, the lauded venues hosting the competitions and the tight security that safeguarded India’s guests from around the world, one could – and should - rightly sum up the Delhi Games as a sound success. 

On the eve of Closing Ceremonies of the Games, I settled in to watch my favourite news program, The National on CBC, looking forward to hearing a positive wrap-up of the Games, after all the initial (deserved) negative coverage.  Would you believe … there was absolutely no report on the end of the Games!?!  Nothing.  Unless you count a passing comment made by Peter Mansbridge to Canada’s Most Watched Political Panel.  This despite the fact that the CBC was the official broadcaster of the Games in Canada.

Was the success of the Games not newsworthy?  Is it not the responsibility of the media to ensure that a fair and balanced representation of facts is presented to the viewing public?  This is not to say that in basking in the glory of success, India should not learn some valuable and indeed crucial lessons.  One would hope that the glare of the international spotlight would encourage India to focus on some of the deficiencies that nearly decimated the very gains it hoped to achieve by hosting the Games.  But it does sometimes seem that the story becomes what the media decides it is, and objective reporting is lost.  From the outset, India’s failures were the subject of a feeding frenzy … the prospect of spectacular failure is sexy news after all.  The National dispatched international correspondent Adrienne Arsenault to Delhi to provide detailed coverage, and her reports never quite lost their tone of criticism or censure.  Much how the media coverage ensured that what is predominantly remembered about the Athens and Montreal Olympics are the problematic facilities and cost overruns, instead of the inspiring success of the respective Games or the first perfect 10 scored by Nadia Comaneci.

In the end and despite all dire predictions, Delhi delivered the Games to the world.  

And to me, that is (equally deserved) good news indeed.

Air India Inquiry & Apology – Too Little Too Late?

October 14, 2007

1 man dead. 

Cause:  Tasered five times by the RCMP at Vancouver International Airport in British Columbia.

Public inquiry commences proceedings on January 19, 2009.

The final report is released on June 18, 2010, less than 3 years after the incident. 

May 2000

7 people dead.

Cause:  Contaminated drinking water in the town of Walkerton, Ontario. 

Public Inquiry is established on June 12, 2000 by the Ontario government.

The final report is released in May 23, 2002, exactly 2 years after the event.

June 23, 1985

329 people dead.

Cause:  Air India flight 182, en route from Toronto and Montreal to India, explodes in midair over the coast of Ireland. 

No public Inquiry is established until 2006.

The final report is released on June 17, 2010, 25 years after the tragedy.

If you find this as unbelievable as I do, then consider also this. 

Robert Dziekanski, the man tasered to death, was not a Canadian.  He was a Polish immigrant who just happened to be dealt a fatal hand on Canadian soil.  The actions of 4 RCMP officers were grossly inappropriate, disproportionate and an abuse of power.  Conducting an investigation into the actions of officers from our national police and intelligence-gathering force was deemed important enough to strike a public inquiry. 

I was one of the staff lawyers on the Commission for the Walkerton Inquiry.  Seven Canadians sadly lost their lives simply because they trusted in the safety of their drinking water.   There were no threats to national security, no acts of terrorism involved.  It was a case of E. coli contaminating the drinking water supply coupled with flaws in the system of oversight that required close examination.  The government took that concern seriously; it took only one month for an inquiry to be struck.  The Commission took that threat seriously.  Commissioner Dennis O’Connor, cognizant of the need to provide answers and redress to the families of the victims, as well as recommendations to prevent future incidents, delivered both of his reports within two years of the tragedy.

Contrast both of these situations with the worst mass murder in Canadian history. Of the 329 people killed, 280 were Canadian nationals.  Surveillance and wiretap intelligence gathered before the incident was extensive and compelling.  This was an act of terrorism.  In the years that followed, the worldwide investigations uncovered various threads of this complex plot.  The body of evidence mounted. 

And then the unthinkable happened.  In one of the most expensive criminal investigations in Canadian history, for which a high security trial room was specifically built, the Crown could not prove its case.  There was insufficient evidence.  Fingers began pointing to the improper handling of the investigation by both intelligence arms of the Canadian government.  The lack of intelligence-sharing between the RCMP and CSIS (Canadian Security Intelligence Services), the now-infamous erasing of crucial wiretap evidence and the shocking inability of intelligence officers to draw conclusions of a credible terrorist threat in advance of the bombing all pointed to one thing:  the need for a public inquiry.  In the intervening years, there were repeated calls for an inquiry but until 2006, there was no political will to establish one.  And until former Supreme Court Justice John Major’s damning report, released just last week on June 17^th, finding a "cascading series of errors" by the Government of Canada, the Royal Canadian Mounted Police and the Canadian Security Intelligence Service that allowed the terrorist attack to take place, there was no vindication for the victims or their families.

This begs the question:  Why??

Why the inaction, inertia, delay and blatantly different treatment from some other notable incidents provoking public inquiries? 

Dare I ask the question on the minds of many Canadians:  Would it have been different if the victims were white?

On June 23, 1985, my sister and I awoke to a surreal tragedy unfolding around us.   Our parents had sent us from Montreal to Toronto by train the day before so that we could attend the sangeet of our cousin, who was to be married the following weekend.  On that fateful morning, we woke up early to the sound of grief, the kind that is profound and echoes with shock.  We were young and away from our parents.  We were not prepared for the magnitude of what we would learn.  In the hours and days that followed, we would come to know of more and more people that we each knew from both the Montreal and Toronto communities that were on board that doomed flight.  A close high school friend of mine, several elementary school friends of my sister’s, many family friends.  It was the same for everybody around us.  Our communities were close-knit – everyone knew someone on that flight.  The Indian communities in Montreal and Toronto would never be the same.  Some of us Canadian by birth, some of us Canadian because this was where we chose to call home.  All of us mourning the loss of 280 Canadian victims.

Twenty years after the downing of Air India Flight 182, families gathered in Ireland to grieve.  The anniversary was declared a national day of mourning.  The then Prime Minister Paul Martin remarked, "Make no mistake: The flight may have been Air India's, it may have taken place off the coast of Ireland, but this is a Canadian tragedy."

Perhaps if that had been the prevailing view from the outset, history would have unfolded differently.

As it is, yesterday, Wednesday, June 23, 2010, on the 25^th anniversary of the Air India disaster, the Canadian government made its first official apology to the victims of the bombing.

While not insignificant, is this just a little too little, a little too late?. . .

Made in India: A Booming Baby Business

If I say “outsource” which country comes first to your mind?  

India, of course! 

The notion of outsourcing, or contracting out business functions to external providers, has become inextricably linked with India over the past few decades.  With an abundance of cheap labour, a growing middle class armed with technical savvy and know-how, and a population hungry for Western-style consumerism, it was inevitable.  While particularly popular in the scientific, technical and service fields, it did not take long for people to discover that - just as goods and services are less expensive in India - so too is health care.  And so the industry known as medical tourism was born. 

It really should have come as no surprise, then, that the creation of life could also be outsourced.  Infertile couples from around the world renting out fertile wombs in India to carry their babies for them.  And yet, somehow, it was. 

Made in India, a documentary screened at the recent HotDocs film festival, explores the business of baby-making as it follows one such couple, Lisa and Brian Switzer, on their personal quest for a biological baby. 

Faced with fertility treatment and surrogacy costs between $70,000 and $100,000 in the USA, contracting out for the same services in India for somewhere around $12,000 was economically-speaking, a much more attractive option.  (I personally think the trips to India are an attractive feature of the whole arrangement, but I digress.)

So Lisa and Brian did what so many couples are now doing, they packed their bags and headed to India to have a baby.  It is now estimated that the value of the international surrogacy market is a whopping $450 million.

This is how it works. 

Lisa and Brian contacted Planet Hospital, a California-based medical travel planning company whose job it is to facilitate the whole trip, including making the arrangements for the necessary doctors and the accommodations.  The parties entered into a detailed contractual agreement setting out the terms of the arrangement, including how much was to be paid to the surrogate, in this case $7000. 

Enter Aasia, a simple Indian woman of limited means living in Mumbai, who wants nothing more than to provide a good education for her three young children.  On her husband’s salary alone, they cannot hope to accomplish their goals, so she signs a contract to provide surrogacy services through the Rotunda Clinic.  She, too, is doing this for the money, hoping to elevate her family’s economic position. 

Overall, it seems like a win-win situation.  One woman giving the gift of life, and the other giving the gift of a better life. 

But international surrogacy is not without its problems or critics.  Currently, there is no legislation setting out the legal rights and obligations of the parties, making the possibility of exploitation in developing countries a real concern and creating confusion in the legal relationships of the parties to the babies.   Moral-ethical questions are also being raised about allowing women to “rent out” their wombs for profit, and for permitting a tiered health care system as between foreigners and the local population, which often has little or no access to the same quality of care.

As for our main characters, Aasia delivered twin baby girls for Lisa and Brian on May 30, 2008*.  While she was well looked after, it did not come without personal cost to her and her family.  Her surrogacy was carried out discreetly for fear of social repercussions; she endured the physical hardships of a pregnancy with twins, as well as a prolonged separation from her own children.  While she had been promised $3000 by the Clinic, in the end she was paid $2500 because of her brief stay towards the end of the pregnancy at the home for surrogates.  Not anywhere close to the $7000 Lisa and Brian expected her to receive.  Aasia was left somewhat disappointed by her compensation.

Lisa and Brian suffered bureaucratic red tape while they waited for the hospital authorities, the Clinic and the US Embassy to determine the legal and biological parentage of the babies, as well as their citizenship, in order to have them released from the hospital.  They also faced the moral challenge of ensuring that they really had made a difference in Aasia’s life, as she had done for their lives.

Ethical and moral questions aside (these will all continue to be debated in the years to come), it is time for the law to catch up to the practice of cross-boundary surrogacy and put into place some clear rules and much-needed safeguards.

…because international baby-making has a life of its own now…and, baby, business is booming.

 

Namrata at HotDocs: A Powerful Inspiring 9-Minutes

It is human nature to be fascinated by other people’s lives.  Curiosity is innate to our species.  Voyeurism, whether of a benign or nefarious nature, is a quintessential example, and the surge in popularity of reality television programs in the last decade is testament to this ongoing appeal.  It is no surprise, then, that Canada’s annual international documentary forum – HotDocs – generates the anticipation and excitement that it does.  After all, local and international filmmakers afford us an intimate insider’s view into the lives of people around the world.  How utterly fascinating.  Over the coming weeks, I will share with you some of lives I have had the privilege of peeking into.

Let me start this week with the shortest film that left the biggest impression. 

Namrata, a 9-minute short film directed by Shazia Javed and produced by the National Film Board of Canada, screened for the first time in Toronto this week.  Namrata Gill, the woman baring her soul for viewers, was also an inspiration behind Deepa Mehta’s movie, Heaven on Earth (See my earlier blog “Life After Marriage: Heaven on Earth?”: http://mybindi.com/lifestyles/ArticleDetailUI.aspx?RefId=1237).  Sometimes, less really is more.

The film opened simply, quietly, with Namrata talking of that day 17 years ago, when she was an innocent young woman in India getting married with all the hope and expectation of a happy married life in Canada.  Dressed in her wedding lehenga, she gazed at a mirror as she spoke, slowly adorning herself with her bridal jewellery.  That day was to be the first day of the rest of her life, her dreams were coming true. 

Reality in Edmonton was not what she expected.  Now dressed in elegant casual wear, she spoke candidly of the early years of her marriage.  Whereas she had hoped to pursue higher education to get a good job, her husband did not permit this, instead requiring her to work grueling long hours at the family-owned convenience store.  (After all, knowledge is power and how could he exert control over her if she became aware of her rights?)  Eventually, she bore a child, a daughter, all the while enduring increasing emotional and verbal abuse.  Inevitably, the abuse became physical for minor transgressions, and sometimes for no reason at all.  As is often the case in domestic violence, his reactions were unpredictable and therefore unpreventable.  She recalled one instance when she was pinned to the floor by her mother-in-law and sister-in-law so that her husband could mete out her punishment more effectively.  Throughout it all, she wanted to escape the marriage, but did not know what to do or how to do it, and she worried about losing her daughter.  So, Namrata remained silent, not confiding in anyone, not seeking out help.  She breathed not a word to her family in India, for fear of causing them anxiety or shame. 

Then one fateful night, everything changed.  Her husband, whose touch she had grown to detest, forced himself upon her and violated her as a woman.  Perhaps she had hit rock-bottom, perhaps she felt she had nothing left to lose, but she finally mustered the courage to share her hardships with her family.  Her father came immediately from India to support her and to help her find the community resources she needed to extricate herself (and her daughter) from her abusive situation.  And as she developed emotional strength, she worked out to develop her physical strength.

[SPOILER ALERT! Do not read what follows if you do not want to know how it ends.]

The last scene was so dramatic, even in its simplicity, that it took my breath away.  We could not see Namrata, but she was clearly getting ready again.  The camera’s close angles focused on a snap here, a button there.  It gradually became apparent that this time, instead of adorning herself as a bride, she was adorning herself with accoutrements of a different nature altogether… and as she pushed a baton into her belt loop, shoved a gun into its holster and placed her police officer’s cap on her head, she reclaimed her power, her independence and her womanhood.

And let me tell you, the audience absolutely loved it.