Unkie Herb

For those of you who don’t know, today is the Day of Action.

A massive, nationwide protest by Aboriginal groups, our First Nations, is underway. They plan on blocking highways and rail lines, thereby disturbing travel on this holiday weekend. Much of the comment on this topic has so far been condemnation - people see these blockades as illegal (they are) and therefore unjustified. Police are moving in on many of the protests and we can expect some confrontations and arrests. How do you feel about it?

I, for one, must raise my small voice in support. Civil disobedience has its place in our democratic society, especially when it has finally brought native issues to the front page, after centuries of ignorance and denial. Canadians often seem to view our relationship with First Nations people as much more conciliatory than that of the US or Australia. As a result, issues of homelessness, alcoholism, child abuse, poverty, and other stereotypes of First Nations communities are usually shrugged off as “their fault.” We are lying to ourselves.

To assume that Canada is a country without racism, prejudice, sexism or any other “ism” is to assume we are a country without humans. When British and French colonialists arrived on these lands hundreds of years ago, there was no genocide of the Native population, as there was in parts of Latin America. What happened, instead, was a series of treaties signed by both sides, thereby utilizing the native groups against each other in the war for land. Consider this genocide by proxy.

To criticize the US for its policies on handling poverty within its borders is to ignore the reality of poverty within ours. While the crumbling neighbourhoods in Canadian cities have garnered real attention lately - look at the reconstruction of one of the first public housing projects in the world, Regent Park - it is only in the past few weeks that Aboriginal issues have received this sort of daily attention. While yes, my lack of travel outside the city today may make it easier to voice my support for the protests, I believe that this is something we as rich, comfortable outsiders have brought upon ourselves. Systematic racism, institutionalized ignorance, and overwhelming apathy dominate our relations with the people who were here thousands of years before our ancestors.

It is sadly fitting that a day of illegal action is what finally opens some eyes.

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Who do you trust?

The big boys have the loudest voice, but do they represent the most objective, balanced voice?

Smaller, independent operations are outside the realm of the rapidly concentrating world of media and publishing ownership, but are also subject to less rigorous reviews and fact-checks.

It isn’t easy, so I can only hope that you take all media sources with a spoonful of salt. Foolish would we be to suppose anything we hear or see is without bias. The newspaper has limited space, as the broadcast has limited time, as we have a limited attention span. How is the editor to balance these restrictions? By editing, of course, and limiting the number of stories and the amount of information that is conveyed about each one. There is nothing surprising or particularly worrying about this fact. What is a concern, however, is when people flick off the nightly news and assume they have just accessed all there is to know in the realm of world and local events. Perhaps I should attempt that message with this site: “Nothing of interest to you has escaped me! I swear.”

Hilariously impossible. And yet that is the message trumpeted by major news sources around the world. The NY Times, that venerable giant of news publishing, contains “All the News that’s Fit to Print.” If only there was some standard of what news is “fit to print”, we could have them in an easy false-advertising lawsuit worth millions! If only.

If you look at the aforementioned concentration of media companies - the AOL Time Warners, the Newscorps, etc - you see just how much these companies have to lose (and gain) from presenting certain stories in certain ways. If CNN wants to continue having direct access to White House officials, they had better treat the administration with respect. If you are a news editor who wants to keep his job, you had better keep an eye on how investigative your stories get. None of this is surprising to me or perhaps to you, but perhaps we’d both be surprised by how many people watch the news without ever considering these behind the scenes transactions.

Harlem rapper Immortal Technique has a particularly poignant diatribe on the topic in his song “The 4th Branch”:

“… you know it’s serious when these same media outfits are spending millions of dollars on a PR campaign to try and convince you they’re fair and balanced…”

If they were fair and balanced, why would they need to convince us?

Turning to the smaller, alternative media sources, we see a few gems who choose a different approach. Instead of attempting to bring us everything that has happened in the world in the past twenty four hours, they present their mission and allow you to choose your stance. In These Times, a left wing newspaper started in the ’70s, “…is dedicated to informing and analyzing popular movements for social, environmental and economic justice.” By giving you the stance it has taken, it can focus on smaller, less broad stories that have slipped through the cracks and give people the opportunity to access them. As well, the bias is explicit, allowing readers to approach the stories with the slant in mind.

With the current corporate control of media in the US, it is natural to assume that alternative media sources will be largely liberal in slant. This, however, would be an error in limiting the conservative movement to just one ideology. Indeed, the right wing US is deeply divided these days, and conservative “dissidents” also exist and run their own independent media sources. One such, Free Republic, longs for the days of small government and honest leadership. Yet it still seems to support Bush, as certain sections of the page suggest. For example, they support the war in Iraq and deride the “terrorist supporting leftist groups” in the US. The site also contains a discussion board allowing people to pray for Dubya.

My favourite, though, is the page devoted to the “Homosexual Agenda.”

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It has been as pleasant as I’d hoped, and not nearly as dangerous as I’d assumed. Riding a bicycle around Toronto for the first time since I was twelve has been nothing short of liberating. I love slipping past traffic, smiling insolently for the drivers tapping on their steering wheels. “I’ve been that guy,” I think to myself. Ha ha ha.

I find myself noticing other riders more and more, as well, in a neck-twisting manner not unlike a dog spotting another across the road. A lot of people ride in this city. I like the nod of understanding one cyclist gives the other, as if to say, “You’ve figured it out, perhaps they will soon.” Little do they know that I am also a hated driver, albeit one that pays much more attention to cyclists that I did before. It’s funny how all it takes is a day riding around town to become much more accommodating to other two-wheelers. While I never feel particularly endangered on my bike, I know that all it takes is a single careless driver for some serious damage to be caused. You are much more vulnerable riding, and you are aware of it.

It has also furthered my ability to appreciate this city. I have already found, as I mentioned earlier, that being away for so long has refreshed my perspective, removed the jade from my eyes. I find that being on a bike expands that change of perspective, allowing me to venture into new parts of the city slow enough to absorb what I look at. I see things that I’ve looked at for years without seeing. I read signs, look in shop windows, stop to admire a skyline. I smile at children playing in the park, at an old couple sitting peacefully on a bench. I recently rode home along Queen East toward the Beaches during sunrise. I stopped at the bridge over the Don River and, for the first time in over twenty years of life in this city, I read what it says.

THIS RIVER I STEP IN IS NOT THE RIVER I STAND IN

How very Heraclitus. I cannot step into the same city twice. The name is the same, but it is different. The flow continues, evolving by the minute. Every day I step out my front door and the city has changed. I will explore it.

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Well, still kicking it bum style.

It’s funny how I’ve made a point of refusing to cut my hair or clean shave, thereby limiting my job opportunities. I have lately begun to question why I’m doing so.

I’ll begin with honest admission: it’s largely vanity. I like the way my hair looks and my dirty beard, which I keep sort of trimmed, is awesome. I care about looking like I don’t care. I like the idea that people look at me and see a dude who couldn’t give two shits, even while I check out my scruff in the window of a car. So there.

I’ve also considered that working anywhere that would require of me a certain level of appearance - especially one that adheres to some institutional standard for what an acceptable professional look - is really a place I just don’t want to work at. I’m trying to work independently for the rest of my life, why not start now by refusing to get into some soul sucking corporate job? So there.

In the end, I’ll find work. My parents have been beyond gracious in housing and feeding me, and it is because of them that I am able to stick to my guns, as shallow as they sometimes are. As well, I owe the freedom of being able to leave my life behind (twice, once here and again in Taipei) and travel my money into non-existence to them, as knowing the safety net of a well stocked fridge and bed are waiting for me whenever I need them. I understand why so many people lack the sack to just drop everything, quit their job and fly to Calcutta or Buenos Aires or Antananarivo, having no means of support when they return, flat broke.

Still, it’s easier than you think. If I didn’t have my parents around I could’ve saved a little bit, slept on a friend’s couch until I found a job, and then got a life back together.

Not sure what the point of this post is, but you should go travel. Save a few thousand bucks and go. So there.

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… History repeating.

From The Globe and Mail, today:

“Washington — - The CIA said yesterday it has decided to declassify most of a voluminous 1973 file known as “the family jewels,” which details some of the agency’s most notorious operations, including assassination plots, human experimentation, illegal wiretaps and surveillance of journalists in the 1950s through the early 1970s.”

I wonder if they will mention the smuggling of drugs and people in the secret wars conducted in South East Asia and Central America. Probably not. A high ranking former CIA operative estimated that over six million people were casualties of these wars, most of which were organized to overthrow governments deemed unfriendly to U.S. interests. That number does not include deaths as a result of acknowledged conflicts, such as Vietnam.

I wonder what information will be contained within the documents released in 2041, thirty four years from now. Will it be the same? The stories of mistreatment, of mass murder, of deceit and blindfolding by our own governments? Will we be surprised? We shouldn’t be, yet we always are.

The road to hell is paved with good intentions.

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I wonder if I’ll ever go back.

I skipped the north. The oft-photographed Halong Bay, the charming insanity of Hanoi, the mountain retreat of Sapa. Missed it all. Why?

Because the Vietnamese drove me crazy. And I know I’m not alone.

A wonderful country rich in history and culture, Vietnam is a massive tourist destination. It is justifiably proud of rejecting a thousand years of Chinese occupation, over a century of French colonialism, and one horrific decade of American invasion. As a result of these influences, Vietnam is unique to South East Asia. It lacks the Theravada Buddhist influence and the South Asian curries that infuse Cambodia, Laos, Thailand and Myanmar. With your bowl of beef noodle soup, you might have a baguette and molasses thick coffee. The taoist temples light incense each evening while the monks try to swing deals with tourists. After making offers for my shoes and sunglasses, one young monk agreed to trade bracelets with me.

This would, in the end, define Vietnam for me. It is a country of deal makers, of scam artists, of ruthless business people. A woman will take you by the arm and, if you let her, drag you into her shop or restaurant. Waiters change prices on your bill and when you complain, they will bring you a doctored menu. Always count your change in Vietnam. Never keep anything in your pockets in Vietnam. I am not a paranoid traveler - I had wonderful experiences with the locals everywhere else - but you cannot be too careful in this land.

And so, I now look at it like a challenge. Will I go back? If I do, will I regret it? It is a beautiful country. From the streets of Saigon to the beaches of Phu Quoc to the sand dunes of Mui Nei to the architecture of Hoi An, it is lovely.

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There seem to be two feelings Torontonians get when they consider their city. One is unabashed love, the sort of shit that makes everyone else in Canada want to puke all over their poutine. The other is pure hatred; unfettered disgust that Toronto is not now and will never be considered one of the great cities of the world. We’re still just, like, okay.

The mood swings are nothing short of bipolar. I wake up and head for a coffee; I see the Star is trumpeting the opening of a new theatre or the arrival of a major museum exhibition. Two streetcar stops down the road, the Sun proclaims an “epidemic” of apocalyptic proportions, usually relating to any one of the following: crime, smog, corruption, poverty, nasty massage parlours, etc. Is it simply media sensationalism? Or does this city have a real complex? Maybe, just like everything else that pisses me off, it’s just cause people are stupid.

The love for the city sure seems to come from ignorance. I grew up here and, predictably, was fully on the aforementioned manic streak. Now that I’ve come back from two years bumming through much of east and southeast Asia - hitting almost every big city from Shanghai to Kuala Lumpur - I have a little perspective. What I see is that this city isn’t nearly as crazy awesome as I (used to) and others (still do) think. Yeah it’s multicultural, but so is nearly every other major western city in the world. Yeah it has a rockin artistic/sporting/culinary/takeyourpick scene, but so do a ton of other urban locales - pretty much everything outside of Ohio. Basically, by not really understanding the scene in other cities but appreciating theirs, Torontonians get all worked up at how awesome they are: “Richmond Street is the best club district in the world!” Ask any 905er, and they’ll swear that’s true.

On the other side, the “reasons we hate this city” side, are all those same problems those other cities struggle with. You think traffic, pollution, homelessness and crime aren’t problems in Stockholm, Sydney or San Francisco? Smarten up, Torontonian, because every city in the world deals with this shit. Maybe some are more successful and some less, but overall these issues penetrate deep into any urban area anywhere. It’s just so easy to get stuck on your city only having these problems cause it’s the place you live and you don’t see other metro areas constantly knocking ideas around.

What must drive other Canadians crazy is that Toronto people rarely leave their city, and when they do it’s all they know so it’s all they shlammer on about. “Gee, did you know that the UN called Toronto the most ethnically diverse city in the world? It sure makes us better than slanty-eyed Vancouver!!” Shut up, you’re making my city sound like we have our head even further up our asses than people from L.A.

In the end, the manic depressive attitude Toronto people have appears to depend solely on the audience. When Toronto people talk amongst themselves, they only discuss the downsides - no direct link to the airport, whatever. When we talk to other Canadians, we go on the offensive - creating that “centre of the universe” attitude that pisses me off so much. I can only imagine what others think of it. Our city has advantages that don’t exist anywhere else in Canada, but also issues that are here and here alone. The same is true of Montreal, Calgary, Vancouver and Red Deer. Can’t we just appreciate our differences and agree that we’re all super cool? Sure Van City is much more physically beautiful than Toronto, but unless someone has figured out how to install mountains and an ocean, we’re stuck with what’s here. Appreciate lake.

What kills me the most is how Toronto, in attempts to measure up, just bites good plans from other cities. Our subway system is clearly a ripoff of New York, the city that we perennially compare ourselves to with unsurprising disappointment. Our waterfront plan - now in its tenth year of planning - was unsubtly nicked from Portland. Even the idea for those retarded moose statues that adorned city streets for a summer was a rehash of cows in Chicago. Now, that isn’t to say that some of those plans aren’t good. Take NXNE, the second fiddle to Austin’s SXSW music festival. It may be unoriginal, but a lot of great bands play some tiny venues, and everyone wins. We still need a little originality, like some new architecture projects of the past year or two, as it goes a long way.

In the end, this city needs to remember two things:

1. Get your damn head checked by traveling Canada and beyond, and realize that we should be happy with our living standards compared to lots of places.

2. Realize that cities evolve slowly through long term thinking and short term sacrifice. Don’t bitch about garbage problems and then oppose a new tax to set up recycling programs.

Toronto can be a kickin city, it just needs to realize to be happy with itself without getting carried away. Maybe we’re not an A class world city, but who are we trying to impress, anyway?

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Appreciate.

What does it mean? I know, I’ll use the old journalist trick of turning to the dictonary:

ap’pre’ci’ate (verb)….

Well, fuck it, you know what it means. But why don’t you do it?

I have a bicycle. My cool coiffure of a neighbour gave it to me. It’s an old school road bike, burnished metallic red. I’m going to ride it around the city. I’ll take a camera.

I feel like it’s going to be the inspiration I need to start appreciating my home again. I’ll explore parts of it I to which wouldn’t normally go. I’ll travel at speeds that allow me to see things. I’ll be able to stop, take pictures, gather thoughts. Perhaps I’ll get a job.

A fucking life, even.

It’ll be fun being a tourist again. This time I’ll be a tourist in my own city, able to reflect with greater understanding as to the background, the history, the culture. People tend not to appreciate places they live. They think it’s normal, there’s nothing special. I recently walked King Street in downtown Toronto. I walked past Bay Street, the heart of Canada’s finance industry. That is an intense intersection. My friends barely even looked up. I stared at it wide eyed, appreciating for the first time since I was a kid how huge and beautiful some of the skyscrapers are here.

I won’t forget my camera next time.

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