Daniela Ginta, Freelance Writer

Gratitude makes the journey better. Kindness, too.

Category: Social issues Page 26 of 32

The Naked Truth Of Growing From Old Times

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On June 14, 2015

In Armchair Mayor Column, Learning, Life Stories, Social issues

Originally published as a column in the AM News on Friday, June 12, 2015.

IMG_8585We had promised my youngest that we will go visit Barkerville for his birthday this year. Family emergencies got in the way as his day approached and we postponed but not cancelled, so last Sunday saw us on the way to the promised location.

It’s a beautiful drive through the Cariboo, and while every season has its wild surprises, this time of year bears its own with much dignity. Green, so green invites to thoughts of reverence: We are incredibly lucky to be living in a place that can be defined as ‘still wild’ and full of wonder. Total headcount on the drive to Wells from Quesnel: four black bears and five moose, countless ground squirrels. Plus six llamas as we started our drive, all curious, all eager to come closer and make acquaintance.

There is no better way to learn about the world around when you’re a kid. Or travelling with kids, because the world seen through their eyes has a lot of question marks, and far from being a nuisance, they are but gentle nudging about all of that we are due to learn. Also, a child’s point of view adds the kind of perspective that is often overlooked for reasons of political correctness or in order to steer away from any kind of conflict.

As far as learning goes, Barkerville is a world apart in more than one way.

The main street is lined up with buildings that become windows towards a time when things were different. As it goes with then and now, we can expand on the topic of what was better then versus now, and we can appreciate the long way we’ve come in learning to do things better in various areas of social life.

IMG_8596The actors roamed the streets and though we knew they are as much a part of today as we are, we allowed ourselves to be wide-eyed at how they showed us the old times. Billy Barker played croquet with Mr. Wallace while debating the ridiculous rumours of camels being brought to Barkerville.

They removed their hats as soon as I passed by them and said ‘Good day!’ to all four of us, which caused a first surprise smile on the boys’ faces.

IMG_8588We had lunch at a local old style diner and our server couldn’t have been more proper. Dressed in a long skirt and white cotton shirt, she had smiles and great conversation skills and referred to the boys as ‘young gentleman’. They were charmed and remarked on the properness of old days.

During lunch they learned that the place did not have anything made of plastic, not even the OPEN sign, which was instead a slate board written on in chalk. They both looked at me, their faces melted in yet another big smile ‘This is your kind of place, Mom.’

The host who guided us through the house and stories of Joe and Betty Wendel, the boys remarked, had great storytelling skills and clothes that were functional and proper and also elegant. It was mesmerizing, just like the stories about determined Mrs. Wendel who roamed the woods, painted, and who was the first to monitor the wild birds of the area.

‘People were very properly dressed in those times,’ the boys remarked, as an infusion of tight-clad and very short shorts tourists reached the main streets as we were making our way to the nearby stream.

It’s a tough one to even open the conversation on. Present times are rife with debates on sexual harassment and defining acceptable boundaries; we tell kids of ‘stranger danger’ and private space, and that no one is to be getting too close to what we define as private parts. But then they see people wearing the kind of clothing that makes private parts less private and they ask: what about that?

Times have changed, yes. Freedom of expression and choice of public presence need to be redefined as it is rather striking how they defy the very laws of decency we have been relying on in hope to help people abide by certain social boundaries.

On Tuesday we drove back to Kamloops and the CBC Radio News ran a piece on two Canadians who, upon taking naked selfies on a Malaysian sacred mountain are now accused of having angered the gods and thus become the cause of an earthquake that killed 18 and displaced hundreds. Oh. The piece was followed on Wednesday by another about a Kelowna resident who attempted naked sunbathing and is now facing criminal charges. Oh again.

Then versus now suddenly became more real. Was ‘then’ better than ‘now’? The answer is far from clear cut. Women and human rights for one were not exactly top of any political or social agenda, and that is a great achievement, though one may argue that that is not the case all over the world.

If we just look at social demeanour and the way we dress, I’d say we lost a way here and there. Selfie culture, while it brings faces forth, it pushes common sense into the back seat. Social challenges and attempts at feeling ‘liberated’ should involve more than exposing cheeks, be they front or back.

With all that we know of ourselves and our long journey through time over ages, we should be able to come up with less embarrassing ways of putting ourselves out there, both at a personal level and when representing our country, and we should conduct ourselves in ways that will allow our children to remark not just on the decency and charm of the old times, but present times as well.

Because, if we are to be honest with ourselves, their learning today becomes the way they live later. If children remark that the emperor’s new clothes are missing, we should not shrug and look aside but really try and see if the emperor is indeed naked.

That way, we show them that we grow from ages past by learning, rather than go against them in a vain attempts to be rebels without a cause, because the (naked) truth is, there is no lasting glory in that. And long lasting is what drew us to a place like Barkerville in the first place…

Hunt For Viral Bits Prevents Us From Seeing The Big Picture

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On June 3, 2015

In Armchair Mayor Column, Kamloops, Life Stories, Self-improvement, Social issues

Initially published as a column in the AM News on Friday May 29, 2015.

I was driving up Columbia Street when I saw what almost resembled a crowd of journalists gathered for a press conference. Phones were all pointed towards the other side of the street. A car was burning in the parking lot and a group of firefighters were pointing a thick stream of water in an effort to extinguish it.

As I drove further, I saw a few people running down towards the site with their phones out and ready to get in on the action. Of ogling, I mean, in which case action is in fact inaction as you simply stare.

What was the motivation behind all of this hubbub? Was it the hope of their video going ‘viral’ or simply the need to take a shot of something outside of the norm? A short-lived ability to make someone go ‘oh’ and ‘ah’ over something that bears the mark of sensational? I can only assume.

I kept on driving thinking of another incident heard over the news a few days ago. A man traveling in Thailand had his phone snatched by an elephant who, in the process of owning the device for a bit, took a ‘selfie’. Yes, the photo went viral and the story too and there was even a poll on the CBC website asking people to guess about the location. Go figure.

Now it is all forgotten, just like the fire in the parking lot will be or is gone already from collective memory (despite the CFJC video that had 66k likes on Facebook), just like the many ‘top viral videos of the week’, just like the viral photo or video of tomorrow. One could say this is what’s right about all of this though.

Short-lived stuff, no matter how many ripples it creates, is just that: a one match fire that lasts only as much as the match does.

And that is what makes it frustrating, especially in today’s social and political context when there are so many matters of utmost importance citizens can and should get involved in, post and write about it, and make ripples which will only add to the impact we all need to have on issues pertaining more than a burning car in a parking lot or other jaw-dropping quick facts of today’s world.

Like the infamous bill C-51, which our senators will get to vote on in a few days. Talk about ogling, cameras and things going awry. If the bill comes to be, people like you and me will be the object of ogling and there will be nothing sensational about it, other than the bewilderment over how this state of affairs came to be.

On the other hand, and in less darker tones, the story of ogling could still take better turns.  A few days ago while my family and I visited friends in Barnhartvale I saw a pink-flower bush that bore plump blossom clumps and on each clump there was a swallowtail butterfly and a couple of bumblebees.

I could get close enough to look at them and then we all stood for a while, hosts included, watching the most gracious dance of yellow and black wings over big pink blossoms. I will never forget that. And yes, I did take a few photos and as I did, I knew I will write about it at least once.

Viral or not, there was something so outstandingly beautiful about it all. The warm afternoon air pinched at times by the buzzing of bumblebees, the silent dance of the butterflies, grownups and children standing in fascination in the middle of grassy slopes nestled among treed hills… a world worth staring at, because the more we do, the more we want to keep it like that.

Hunting for the cheap sensational of today that will never be remembered tomorrow dulls our senses to the point of responding only to that, as the real world is not exciting enough to garner that kind of attention.

Like a bad drug, you could say, the need to see the dirt on the world rather than its worthwhile beauty. By that I do not mean just pretty butterflies, but all that pertains to life, raw and real and giving us the full measure of what we’re here for.

With so many people in the world and so much happening, with greed and an increased lack of social conscience at times, we cannot afford to have our attention drawn to things that do little more than elicit the said oh and ah, or a chuckle.

When we focus our attention on loftier goals, as individuals and as a society, rather than monitoring the small cheap stuff, we allow ourselves a fair chance to see the big picture which in turns allows us to do more than ogle, which is observe and act upon matters than keep the world worth looking at.

The Place We’re In, Up Close and Personal

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On May 14, 2015

In Armchair Mayor Column, Kamloops, Learning, Life Stories, Self-improvement, Social issues

sleepy

Initially published as a column in the AM News on Friday May 8, 2015. 

Have you ever seen a bee napping in a clump of flowers? We have, my youngest son and I, as we were walking to the bus stop on our way to school today. Just a very sleepy bee, its will to fly conquered by the brightest morning sun we’ve seen in the last few days.

‘Will you write about it, Mom?’ I promised I will.

You see, we now make our way to school every day from up on the hill to the downtown, and every day comes with its own novelties. We add to it all by reading on the bus. He snuggles close and we step into a world of wonder. Black Beauty, Robinson Crusoe, The Last of the Mohicans and King Arthur and Robin Hood, they join us to and from school every day and give us countless topics to discuss.

Honour, compassion, empathy, meanness, values and principles, the ‘why’ behind so many human actions, and all the questions we still have to find answers for regarding human nature. It’s a wild ride, no pun intended.

I am an outspoken advocate of reading quality books, which leave you richer and better for having read them. I do believe, as Iranian-born, Canadian philosopher Ramin Jahanbegloo said, that ‘A mediocre book has nothing to offer to its readers, no matter how close we read it.’

Children’s reading choices have diverged tremendously over the years and some does not qualify as quality reading, which is a shame, because children are eager to learn about the world, past and present, and they are have questions, many, which increases their appetite for free thinking. Much needed in today’s changing, trend-dominated world. But that is the topic for another column.

On my way back, I walk, instead of taking the bus. I choose quiet streets over busy ones, and spring makes every step worthwhile. The world is alive and blooming, and I am there to see it. I listen to books most times and then I walk listening to the sounds around. It’s a revealing trek every time with certain addictive features that make me look forward to the next day’s uphill walk, rain or shine or blustering winds, as it was the case two days ago.

But, as they say, the path reveals itself every day anew. Some streets are simply raucous: waves of heavy trucks roll so close and fast on the road, it feels like they’ll peel you right off the sidewalk, and then, the dust… it makes the air hard to breathe, which makes that perfectly blue sky and crisp morning sunshine a great tease. The city feels, at times, and looks like it’s drowning in fumes and noise. We breathe walk and live next to all of that.

It’s a shame that it has become this way, as walking should be a common thing (along with cycling, and commuting by transit when needed). I am partial to that sense of belonging to a place that sprouts from the nod and smile I get (and give) to my fellow town trekkers. Cyclists too, they nod too. Presence, I like that.

When on the bus, we greet, smile to people and say thank you for the ride. The driver always acknowledges that. We share the place for part of the way and that creates the ‘together’ we all need to be safe and have the said sense of belonging.

In my quest for avoiding busy streets, I have come to discover various trails that take me downtown but in a more, well … hobbit-ish way. Snaking among trees and overwhelming lilac bushes, the dirt paths I take add colour to my daily walks. They connect this street to that and create the feeling of a world apart from the one we’re used to by living in the city.

BlueThe other day I came across some larkspur shining blue among tall grasses, and just a few steps up the trail there was a woodpecker proudly wearing a fiery red tuft and pecking at an old birdhouse. I’ve never seen one so close; it makes for a quiet reappraisal of how we could, if we wanted to, have a place that would foster reminders of life and, most importantly, life beyond the city limits.

If more people see, through the eyes of those who venture out first and then through their own, we’d all join in finding ways to make the city a good place to be when you choose to travel on foot, bike or by bus.

A place where such activities are encouraged and shared becomes a safe place or be where the motivation to make it better, for everyone’s sake, not just on an individual basis, grows with each step we take off the beaten path.

I will soon walk downhill through the dry midday sunshine, King Arthur and his valiant knights tucked in my backpack, ready to pick up my son and have him snuggle close so we can read further.

Before we do that though, we will walk hand in hand to the bus stop and maybe, just like yesterday, someone will be there playing a harmonica and carrying an old violin and we will smile and say hello, and later on my son will wonder about the story that person carries along… I will too, and that will expand my horizon even more, to include understanding and the need to see the human to see what human is, yet another perk of walking and taking a bus rather than driving.

Every time we get off the bus and call it a day (transit-wise) I feel richer in the best possible way. Such are the consequences of acquiring more. Knowledge and experiences that is. Even when I’m in a rush, as long as I am on foot, the world appears closer and the colours are more intense. I assume that is part of making it personal.

On Earth Day And Further

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On April 22, 2015

In Environment, Learning, Life Stories, Social issues

AliveIt is Earth Day today – officially, that is – and that means many things: that many people actively think about their world today, that they may feel inspired to make changes that will help heal it and keep it alive, that even though Volkswagen Canada pushed some car-related trend to top trend on Twitter (yes, they did), #EarthDay occupies the second spot, not because of money-inflated campaigns but because people make it so. That is powerful.

Over the last two months I have been observing the effects that two words have on people. Say climate change and some will jump right in the middle of the conversation, while others shift their gaze and sail out of it as it happens with taboos, because that is what climate change often reminds me of. A couple of states in the US have banned the very words, while here in Canada, the very words are spoken with gusto only by those who have no ties with the fossil fuel industry or the seemingly irreplaceable benefits such resources bring to our everyday life.

Everybody knows that dependency is a dirty word that becomes even dirtier when the environment becomes collateral damage. And it does, whether we admit it or not.

The damage, some would say, is already big enough, is it not, while others still argue that perhaps there is no such thing as human activity-induced climate change and what we see is merely normal phenomena of our world.

I will not dwell on the latter. The fact that March was the hottest on record prevents me from it. As we stand now, and we will, likely, for a few more decades at least, there are no additional options when it comes to living quarters, a reality that cannot be twisted in any way even by the most fervent deniers. This is it, our home. The Earth.

What helps then, putting things in perspective? Here’s what changes mine and keeps me motivated to never give up:

ThemChildren, mine included. They deserve better than a declining world. Their minds are eager to learn and their compassion levels run high. If we teach them early, by example, that wants and needs are as different as night and day, and happiness never comes from opening a package or owning yet one more thing, they’ll go after the real thing: connection. With themselves, with people and with the world.

ThereThat all resources on Earth are finite. Matter – that means liquid, gas, solid – transforms constantly and nothing in our world disappears but becomes something else. We have the power (and technology, for most part) to choose processes and resources that improve our world rather than destroy it. Think fossil fuels and pollution versus renewable, non-polluting energy, think plastic and pollution versus reducing consumerism and garbage. Think health versus… Wait, nothing to set that against. True conversation starters indeed.

strengthThat nature is resilient. Which means that silly kids that we are, we have been abusing it for long enough, yet, should we change our ways, things will get better. Slowly, but they will, and that is reason enough.

ThatThat if the environment suffers, we suffer too. No revolutionary medication and treatments can make up for clean water, air and soil and no amount of money can buy a livable world. Ours was and still is good enough so it makes sense to keep it alive. Everything we create (plastic, pesticides, chemicals used for various purposes) stays with us, whether in the same form or a different one. Every action comes with reaction and if we have once accepted that as truth, why not apply it and make our actions positive ones. It only gets better from there onward if we do.

I am stubborn enough to believe that our survival instinct will prevail. It has to.

WorldsHappy Earth Day!

PS: Happy 364 Earth days more until the next April 22 comes around…It is when it becomes an everyday thing that it matters the most.

A Child Lost Is Too Much To Lose and Not Learn From

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On April 1, 2015

In Armchair Mayor Column, Kamloops, Life Stories, Motherhood, Social issues

Initially published as a column in the Armchair Mayor News on Friday, March 27, 2015. 

The day is foggy and grey. Somewhat sad except that I’ve always loved the rain and its plaintive reminders. As I do the usual ruffling through the news I come across the case of a 21-month-old toddler who, two years ago this month, died while in foster care. Too sad for words, but upon reading the entire story, several more shades of darkness pile up.

The mother, who had her baby taken away by social services just two months after birth – she was deemed unsuitable to be a parent due to a learning disability – is now suing the B.C Children’s Ministry for the death of her daughter.

The toddler was found to have several arm fractures, old and new, as well as bruises on face, arms and legs, the coroner’s report stated, yet the cause of death was deemed as unclear.

That a child is dead is unacceptable. Parenting is hard work, everyone knows that, but this is not about parenting and its hard trials. This is about a system failing to step in, and it is also about the failure to present the birth mother with an answer as to why her baby died, having her fight to shed some light which, as of now, has not been the case.

Instead, she had bureaucrats shrugging and filling the space with empty words. There is nothing that can ever fill the space where a child once was.

A life is a life. We simply cannot shrug, call it sad and move on. We are approaching new elections and thus we will have a chance to change things. Will we know what needs to be changed? What can we ask for? The basics to start with. Respect and care for our most vulnerable, children and the elderly, as well as other categories, the ones that cannot always speak for themselves.

We should be asking that our collective children are cared for, that every one of them is properly accounted for and that the system will not fail children or parents, but rather engage into helping them be looked after and/or reunite when the situation allows for it.

In the last few years I have heard of more than one case of parents struggling to keep their children only to end up losing them to foster care, or extended families trying to keep in touch with children yet having their pleas completely ignored.

Truth is, raising children, whether by natural or foster parents, should be a team effort. It provides accountability of some sort. Someone in the network that we strive to create around each child will be able to notice when things aren’t right. Then, of course, comes the objectivity in assessing the facts and taking appropriate measures.

If we allow for learning disabilities to become reasons for losing the right to parent a child, we enter a grey area that would have many children ripped from the people who love them the most. Yes, they may need support and guidance, yet that would be a much better use of resources and a significant gain for our society as a whole.

While some parents are truly unsuitable, as sad as that is, we cannot allow for those who want to be good parents to be deemed unfit and have their children thrown into a system that dangerously lacks proper screening criteria for foster parents.

At the same time, there are many foster families out there going above and beyond in striving to provide a loving home to children other than their own, and they do not deserve to be painted with a tainted brush at any time.

It comes down to being responsible for one’s actions. Good or bad, if actions are accounted for properly, there is high hope that fewer children will fall through the cracks. Proper assessments of those in charge of children, control measures and not filling the space with empty words but action that sees the bad corrected.

When children are cared for and raised in ways that help them learn kindness and compassion from those who care for them, they’ll grow up to pay it forward and the entire society will benefit from it.

A society is as strong as its care for the most vulnerable is. Striving to do our best where best is needed – the purpose of a job is not just to be done but to be done well – will allow us to weave the kind of societal fabric that will not allow for anyone to fall through.

Shutting down a foster home after a child dies like the one where baby Isabella died, if not followed by an inquiry, misses the point of obligatory due diligence that we owe to all those who our yet imperfect system failed. Closure is not a word but should be a set of actions with a common denominator: now we know better.

A child’s life, as so many along the way, has been lost and that cannot be undone. Let’s not allow today’s news to just wash over it with no lessons learned. Hugging our children should be a constant reminder that life is precious and we are all bound by the high purpose of protecting it. All we have to do is live up to that purpose.

Lessons From Magpies

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On March 26, 2015

In Armchair Mayor Column, Environment, Kamloops, Life Stories, Self-improvement, Social issues

Initially published as a column in the AM News on Friday, March 20, 2015. 

The most magpies I have seen at one time in our front yard is six. It was January and everything was covered in deep snow then and the six birds were an instant one-of-a-kind decoration for an otherwise barren, dormant tree.

They often scratched in the snow for delicacies only a bird could appreciate and one spot was of particular interest. Enough to steal my attention from writing.

My desk is adequately positioned to provide the best lookout and, aside from the elderly couple that looks up and waves every day as they pass by our house, the magpies have been a welcome interruption since I noticed their elegant attire.

Now there are two left and one seems to be particularly active collecting twigs for a secret project hidden in the cedar hedge. It has to be the nest. According to my reference book, the female preps the inside of the nest, while her partner builds the outside.

They belong to this neighborhood as much as every other resident, and more so.

On my runs on the trails nearby I see crows doing the same this time a year. Twigs, dirt, soft feathers and grass will make it all right for the baby birds to come. The one thought that stuck with me one of these mornings was that their rituals have never changed. Perpetual building of nests every spring, responding to instincts so strong that nothing can stop them from doing what they’ve been doing forever.

The adjacent thought was the unfortunate interference of us humans in all of that nature-driven dance. We do it for many reasons, while often forgetting that the first thing we should do is try to understand nature and how everything works, from the tiniest critter to the most imposing. That in itself would provide a natural barrier towards stomping our feet where we’re not supposed to.

Yet these days we interfere without putting in the due diligence of knowing more, or enough to do it right.

As the provincial government was unfolding the plans to kill wolves in order to protect the dwindling herds of caribou, I wrote a couple of articles about the unfairness of it – given that human encroachment on caribou habitat should be the first to be addressed.

It was suggested to me at the time that I read Ernest Thompson Seton’s story called ‘Lobo, the king of Currumpaw’. So I did. I picked up a copy of ‘Wild Animals I Have Known’ and read more than the wolf story.

I’ve always been a nature lover; no creature was too small or unworthy of consideration. Yet Seton’s accounts of his encounters added an extra layer of dedication to the cause. It takes time to understand nature. Beyond the figure of speech, being observant for long enough, you are rewarded with facts that will deepen your respect for every living thing. There is so much we do not know. Fascination redefined.

Such was Seton’s gift, and so many others’, from old times and new, and the message is one: everything in nature has a purpose, and it is a privilege that we can be part of it. As of late (make that the last couple of centuries here in North America), we have overstepped our welcome in ways that can be described as callous and irresponsible at best.

During the few months of homeschooling my eldest, we focused on Canadian history as one of our subjects. As if the subject to a conspiracy theory of some sort, a common refrain kept surfacing in regards to many aspects of life in early Canada.

Animals were plentiful, until greediness drove many to the brink of extinction. Land and water creatures were hunted, trapped and fished until there was nothing left. Nothing is without end, save for time itself.

Nature’s resilience is well known though, so conservations and repopulation strategies brought many back. Yet despite many successes, repopulating areas once devoid of animals is often less successful than expected. A lesson we should learn from.

If lack of knowledge was a justifiable excuse then, what is our excuse now?

The wolf cull that started a month ago continues. It will be so for the next five years. At the same time, not nearly enough has been done to see the caribou habitat from human activity, the real culprit in the decline.

The grizzly bear trophy hunt that will see somewhere around 300-400 grizzlies killed, unless cancelled, will add another black eye to the already bruised reputation of a province that proudly displays on many a license plate ‘The most beautiful place on Earth’.

Words can be as pompous as we want them to be, yet the provincial government has been on a course to undermine the very thing we are so proud of by allowing animals to be killed for fun or in a shortsighted strategy to protect other species; it allows for parks and pristine areas to be mined and pipeline-invaded while the reality of climate change presses for renewable resources and conservation strategies that should see next generations able to enjoy the same beautiful places we still have around us.

As it turns out, at least 90 per cent of British Columbians oppose the trophy hunt, yet their voices are undemocratically ignored. Many conservationists agree that shooting with the camera and leaving the place as you found it is the way to go. Even that, with care, and with the understanding that we do not own the rights to do as we please but are here to learn how to live and let live.

The magpies – considered by some nothing more than pests – fly in and out of the hedge as I write this. One perches on the tree while the other crosses the street in low flight and returns with a twig of considerable length. There is nothing that makes me think of greediness. The bird makes frequent stops and I cannot help but be charmed by his determination (according to my book that would be the male, and yes, magpies mate for life) to build a good nest for his babies.

Again and again, that makes me think… if only we could stop long enough to observe and learn, if we could add enough thoughtfulness to our actions, that might just give our life and that of our children’s a measure of what we’re truly capable of. Because truth is, we are a brilliant species, yet that should serve to humble us and enable us to raise to such expectations in earnest, rather than entitle us to act as if we’re here to own a place that will, nevertheless, have the last word.

Bills And Morning Runs – Connecting The Dots

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On March 14, 2015

In Armchair Mayor Column, Environment, Self-improvement, Social issues

Originally published as a column in the AM News on March 13, 2015. 

It is 11am and I am out for a run. I get to see far over the grasslands yet my eyes do not make it that far. A river of yellow air sitting on top of the downtown like a lazy impudent snake divides my running grounds from the distant grasslands. It is almost mid-March and there are already rumours of fire bans throughout the Thompson-Okanagan.

These days, bill C-51 is being discussed in Parliament. The two instances of life seem unconnected and yet the connection is as straightforward as it is eerie. Should this bill pass, we will see Canada equipped with a fresh organization capable of grabbing potential terrorists by the throat and stopping them mid-action.

Kind of a police force but with a different name and on steroids, since it will give 17 government agencies (14 of which are not subject to dedicated independent review) that oversee national security access to all information pertaining citizens like me and you. In other words, pray for mercy if you’re it, because this is one mean game of tag.

Privacy Commissioner Daniel Therrien (who was blocked from the committee witness list) points to this and more, adding his name to the the 100 plus academics’ who are urging the government to reconsider the terms of this anti-terrorism legislation that is presented as a tool against those who threaten our national security, but has the power to analyze our every bit of data, personal and otherwise.

Which, we are told, is a good thing, because it ensures our safety. If you get past the part where you have to define who the ‘us’ is and who will be cast as the ‘bad guys’.

Could the people who stand for their right to speak and act in the interest of democracy and other civil liberties that we proudly display to the world be labelled as terrorists? That’s one of the fears some of the MPs and independent observers have.

It is sunny and the sky is painted in clouds. It is beautiful, yet the yellow air feels heavy in the distance. I will be heading home soon to work on some articles about the continuous use of bisphenol A and flame retardants despite of their now clearly demonstrated albeit ‘invisible’ to the unaware consumer due to their hidden nature (literally) but also due to the reassurance people get and count on from their government.

Then I will be tackling the dilemma of trains versus pipelines. Just last weekend another train transporting crude oil derailed in northern Ontario, and that is just two weeks after another train derailment causing an oil spill in a close-by area. A bitumen spill in Alberta in the Peace River country makes one stop before saying … ‘so pipelines are safer.’ They are not. Nor are trains. Everything that we do involves risks and consequences.

The dilemma train vs. pipeline has been on the lips of many a citizens lately. Those who keep their minds open and are able to see that our world is undergoing some pains we may not be ready to deal with (on a local scale, imagine a long summer of wild fires and dwindling water supplies because other areas need water just as badly for their own fires) ask another question: if there are alternatives, why don’t we use them?

I have been researching the tar sands (and have so much to learn still) and when the news came that environmental groups are under surveillance and more, I had the uncomfortable feeling of reading flagged material. It made me think of the many stories I heard in my birth country about the government surveying people who believe in values that have no dollar sign attached to them

Will writing about this get me in trouble now or later? Will our collective children learn to whisper rather than talk because someone may be listening? Will we turn on each other to keep safe from powers we cannot see but who will be behind corners we turn every day? Am I overreacting? How 1984ish of me.

Democracy is a gift that a country offers to its citizens. It ensures freedom and rights. And freedom is a mighty big word that stands for a concept we need to keep around us like we need air to breathe.

Hence my parallel. The yellow air does not ensure freedom to breathe, unless we choose to close our eyes and see it as such. Unless we choose to be complacent about it. Watching over people to make sure their safety is in place is what we expect our government to do, but we expect them to do it right, in a way that does not impend on our freedom.

Much has been said about that since the latest sad incidents that saw two Canadian soldiers killed. Terrorism, mental health, lack of resources, the list could goes on, but pointing at them without acting to changing is a useless, redundant activity.

There will be threats, unfortunately, even more so in the context of increased world turmoil that transcends country boundaries and sees people enslaved to the wrong beliefs. Even more of a reason to approach a bill such as C-51 with caution and an open mind. And allowing all parties who stand for human rights and democracy to have a say and be listened to.

We cannot allow anyone for any reason to unravel the democratic tapestry our predecessors have fought hard to weave. So we have to strive to know how to prevent that, because knowledge is power. The good, we’re-in-it-together kind of power that allows you the freedom to look at the sky and wonder what can be done if the blue is no longer blue enough.

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