Straddling the Lines that Divide Us

I want to share with all of you as accurately as possible my experience at the demonstration against war and imperialism that made its way through the streets of downtown Toronto on this cloudy, windy, rainy final Saturday of October 2007. I'm scratching my head trying to conjure a suitable introduction to my story and getting nowhere, so I'll just get on with it.

My day began by being introduced to three self-professed Marxist groups, none of whom seemed to want anything to do with the others; a fantastic start to ending war. The representative of the first, a contingent of followers of one Leon Trotsky, with whom I conversed - a sweet, seemingly middle-aged lady, passionate about the cause and the effort she puts forth in hopes of a better world - to be honest, much of the content of our discussion escapes me on account of a combination of poor attention span and wonky short-term memory (being a pot head last year wasn't all that great of an idea after all, though it did assist me in churning out ideas for writing, but I digress). I remember her handing me a leaflet, then telling me to be on alert for an impromptu protest in the wake of the Third Circuit Court of Appeals' decision on the fate of Mumia Abu Jamal. I remember using the words, "They hate him!" and nodding in agreement, for you and I can understand why the orchestrators of such a social order as the one in which we live would harbour such vitriolic affect towards this man, whose plight represents the ugly underbelly of this social order in its naked form. Upon her utterance of these aforementioned three words, I attempted to connect Mr. Abu Jamal to one Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr., whose message of love, peace, compassion and unity was silenced by the action of one James Earl Ray, particularly how the State had (and continues to have) a vested interest in quashing these threats to their established social order. My counterpart was hesitant to acknowledge my assertion that the State had a hand in Dr. King's demise, and I don't blame her for it: on the surface, it's tough to argue against the notion of a lone, crazed, racist gunman taking down a prominent African leader; however, if our arguments portray a racist State power structure, one could easily draw the conclusion that said authority, through the trigger finger of Mr. James Earl Ray, perpetrated such an attack. Again, I digress. My acquaintance and I exchanged pleasantries and went our separate ways.

With the representative of the second, another collection of followers of Trotsky, the conversation was a bit more heated. First, I asked this bespectacled young gentleman if his group had any affiliation with the group with whom I had previously conversed, to which he replied with a brief description of the rift resulting from philosophical differences and (surprise!) an internal power struggle. We left it at that, and proceeded to discuss the issues revolving around today's gathering. As we were discussing possibilities to bring forth social upheaval, we hit a snag, and it pertained to the folks you see below:



His argument was thus: law enforcement and military personnel ought not to be considered "workers", as they represent (by carrying out) State oppression of the masses, and that any movement geared to yield social upheaval must exclude said persons. While I agreed with his sentiments on what the uniform and badge symbolize, when we strip them away, these are people, much like you and me, who have mortgages, who pay bills, who have families to feed, who struggle to survive. An older woman interrupted us for a moment to mention that these people are children, and most of them are parents of children, people who work each day to provide for themselves and these children of theirs. Sure, their actions are, by and large, more reprehensible than, say, our pushing paper within a multinational or state bureaucracy, but we cannot lose sight that these are human beings, just like us, working to keep their heads above the proverbial water line. Their hiding behind the badge highlights the point of this whole exercise: society pits us against one another - Man against Woman, White against Black against Brown, Judeo-Chrisitan against Muslim, Constable against Commoner, "straight" against "gay", neighbour against neighbour, and so on ad nauseam - while the few reap the immense monetary gains that ensue. My counterpart, natrually, wholeheartedly agreed with this, though it wasn't enough to persuade him into viewing these persons as "workers". We did agree, more or less, on the following: as this movement gains momentum, we need to reach out to these people and lay our cards on the table, though it is up to them to step back, see exactly what they're doing and whom they represent, then toss aside their tools of oppression for the sake of humanity. And with that, we exchanged pleasantries and parted ways.

I then had an encounter with another lady from the first contingent of Trotskyites who mentioned she noticed me having a chat with the gentleman from the rival faction, then proceeded to relay to me the story of how its leader was expelled from her clan for his sociopathic behaviour (I should highlight to the reader that, through my studies in Abnormal Psychology, I discovered that "psychopath" is, once again, the preferred nomenclature) - I believe he tried to force an abortion upon a female member who was carrying his child, though the remainder of the details escape me. At this point, I did not know what to say: was she trying to tell me to be wary of the group as a whole and all of its members on account of the psychopathology of its leader? Perhaps she ought to bring it to their attention? Perhaps she has already tried?

The encounter with the third group of Marxists was much more brief. I mentioned to the young lady that this was, in fact, the third group of Marxists who approached me, to which she responded with a chuckle and a mention of her particular faction favouring unity among all of us. We were not able to chat for very long - after all, she had papers to sell. No matter. 'Twas a pleasure meeting her.





I could not document my experience without bringing your attention to this gentleman (the one holding the shield) and his belief in the need to attack Islam for the sake of the Jews and Christians, for their suppression of civil liberties, and because they "attacked first" on 11 September 2001. Needless to say, on this day, he was a lonely fellow. 'Twas a pity, though, that I did not engage in discussion with him, for he is not alone in the unfortunate sentiments he harbours, ones we have not done an adequate job destroying. What would he say upon hearing me - or anyone, for that matter - tell him he is being had by the very powers to which he lends his unwavering support? that every Qassam rocket fired is to the benefit of the advancement of a State of Israel blanketing everything between the Nile and Euphrates? that these four commercial airliners, having been flown into the World Trade Center and Pentagon, have given the executive branch of the United States government carte blanche to wage war on any nation it desires? that he is just as much a slave as the rest of us? that, despite his being a Judeo-Christian, his government doesn't give a shit about him or the people he holds dear?

Though I did not manage to ignite a discussion between the two of us, I settled for affixing an appendage to his "Islam Attacked First" banner, which read, "Is this true?" Furthermore, for all you parents in Readerland, and I say this from my experiences as a combatant in a fierce sibling rivalry, when you pull two quarreling youngsters aside and one of them tries to employ the "S/He started it!" defense, do you let her/him settle the score by cracking one on the jaw of her/his counterpart, or do you end the confrontation once and for all? Heaven knows how many times my mother uttered the line, "I don't care who started it; end it!"

All this, and the procession itself has yet to begin!



Onward with the demonstration! Up University Avenue we march, then east on Gerrard Street, then south on Yonge Street past the streams of Saturday shoppers, then east on Queen Street, congregating in Moss Park, residing in the neighbourhood home to the highest density of homeless persons in this great nation of ours, which happens to also be home to an Armoury. I could feel the energy of this mass of participants in the crisp autumn air through its chants of "End the occupation! Troops out now!" and "From Iraq to Palestine, occupation is a crime!". There was even a contingent of persons from the Philippines present, which was pleasing to see, as America's conquering of said nation a century ago seems absent from the minds of many.

It must have been while we were turning onto Gerrard Street when I heard the voice of a gentleman ask if I could carry his placard, as he had to leave the rally prematurely to attend to other important matters. I turned my head to my right towards this voice, and, lo and behold, I'm staring at the Right Honourale Peter Tabuns, representative of the New Democratic Party and Member of Provincial Parliament. "It's good to see you, Mr. Tabuns!" I exclaimed while shaking his hand. I also mentioned I used to live in his riding, at the corner of Pape Avenue and Dundas Street, to be exact; this seemed to please him. Then he made his escape. 'Twas a pity he could not stay. Such is the life of the politician: always on the run.



My discussion with the bespectacled gentleman from the second Trotskyite contingent stayed with me through the duration of the march. I was fortunate to have walked alongside the barrier of constables on bicycles, for it allowed me to see into their eyes. If only I could tell them how, despite their uniforms and badges and weapons and power, we're all in this together, and how they're just as much slaves as us, toiling day after day, year after miserable year, for the benefit of the elite. Perhaps I have much work to do on myself yet, as I vowed to cease being afraid. Again, I digress. As I peered into the eyes of each constable I passed, I could sense the fear their masks tried to conceal. The motorcycle officers appeared especially menacing, clad in black leather from neck to toe, hiding behind mirrored sunglasses, but they were afraid all the same, this I can assure you. Like a guard dog, they attack because they are afraid. Like I said earlier, we're pitted against each other, fearful of our own neighbours, using any means necessary to quell any and all threats to our perceived security: for the elite, it's fear of losing dominion over ever natural resource, of losing dominion over the people it is meant to serve. And so, it sends its guard dogs after us.



At last, we gathered at Moss Park for the conclusion of the rally. The speaker pictured above (I can't remember his name; if you know it, feel free to tell me) spoke on behalf of the homeless in Canada. He pointed to a park bench, located in the vicinity of the baseball diamond behind us, and shared with us, as he did in September 2005 during the last rally I attended, the story of a man, Paul Richard Croutch, who was beaten to death by three young reservists from the nearby Armoury for the crime of sleeping on this very bench, three young men who are scheduled to stand trial for murder in February 2008. One line in his speech stood out among the rest: one life came to an end that fateful evening, and three others were destroyed.

Pay attention now to the gentleman holding the placard reading "NO TO IMPERIALIST WAR / DOWN WITH ISLAMIC REPUBLIC OF IRAN", for I am about to mention him.



The gentleman pictured above (again, I cannot remember his name, either) was invited to speak about his experience in Afghanistan and his journey to Canada, when he was interrupted by chants by the chap whose attention I drew you earlier, denouncing the Islamic theocracy in Iran, and whose head was nearly taken off for his efforts. I want to add my thoughts on this in an attempt to make sense of it all:

I wholeheartedly agree with the sentiment that we cannot protest imperialism without demanding the dissolution of theocratic rule in Iran, or any other nation, for that matter. This does not mean we ought to line up behind our fearless leaders as they order us to sharpen our bayonets, load our rifles and plunge ourselves into battle, first, because war brings us nothing but more war, and, second, because supporting purveyors of theocracy in our backyard defeats the purpose of toppling theocracy abroad.

That being said, this gentleman could have chosen a more appropriate time to sound off than during this humble man's speech. Perhaps my personal bias would prevent me from feeling bad had someone interrupted Dick Cheney in a similar situation, and you have every right to pick on me for it. Unfortunately, this particular speaker does not have television networks and newspapers at his beckoned call, meaning this was one of very few opportunities he has to share his tale with us and did not deserve to be interrupted as he was today.

I failed to photograph the young lady who followed this gentleman in the speaking order, nor did I remember her name (I'm awfully bad with names, aren't I?), but I do recall her passion and conviction on the podium, and stood in awe of it, thus I would not be pleased with myself for failing to acknowledge her.





The two gentlemen pictured above (I cannot remember their names, either; what a horrible person I am) spoke about the situation in Haïti, specifically, the role being played by Canadian soldiers and law enforcement, something neither our major media outlets nor our Haïitan-born Governor-General, the Right Honourable Michaëlle Jean, have bothered to do, perhaps because neither of them are able to put as pleasant a spin on this mission as, say, our ongoing effort to "spread democracy" and "restore stability" to Afghanistan. Here, we flat-out aided in the usurping of President Jean Bertrand Aristide in 2004, elected by the impoverished masses, in the name of consumables produced with bargain-basement labour costs. To this day, Mr. Aristide remains in exile. Chalk another one up for "democracy".



This gentleman kindly asked us to boycott the Chapters/Indigo bookstore megachain, as the two heads of this dragon, Heather Reisman and Gerry Schwartz, donate an annual sum of three million dollars to the Israeli Defense Forces (IDF) - I don't believe I need to get into particulars of what they do. He continued to highlight how two-faced the elite tends to be, as it embarks on landmark charitable work, such as supplying heaps of books to school boards at cost, while funneling millions of dollars each year in support of perpetual war.



Lastly, this gentleman spoke on the ongoing struggle for freedom in Burma from military rule, highlighting the hypocrisy of all the lip-service being paid in support of Aung San Suu Kyi by Western leaders who need not be named. He went on to say that, while the Canadian government named Aung San Suu Kyi an "honourary citizen", some of its businesses continued to benefit from the military regime who deposed her.

And thus concluded the rally against war, bringing me (finally) to the conclusion of my account of it. It is now shortly after one o'clock Sunday morning. I have no idea when I started writing this piece; my neck and shoulders are sore from it, but who am I to complain? I have a solid roof over my head, electricity to power my computer, and no one is shooting at me.

Okay. Enough of my being a smart-ass; by now, I imagine you've had enough.

I want to end with a thought on why we do this:







The first photograph is of Moss Park, the latter two of Regent Park, two of the less glamourous neighbourhoods of Toronto, if you believe what your television tells you. You will notice the children at play in the first two (methinks I scared the children in the second shot, though I sincerely hope not; if I did, I apologize), with the large mural in the third demanding a halt to violence. These highlight the reasons why we work towards ending war and exploitation, towards a better, safer world, one in which we do not have it in for one another, one in which we do not live in fear of one another. This is a world towards which we all need to work, and we achieve it through understanding, through compassion, through love. If this is not something we all want, I'm afraid there's no hope for us.

Signing off at 1:17 on 28 October 2007.

Mahalo.

p.s. My sincere apologies to those of you whose names I forgot, as well as those whose sentiments I may have distorted while trying to recall them.

The End of Poverty?

This past Wednesday, 17 October 2007, was the internationally recognized day to "stand up" and "speak out" to remind the United Nations of its Millennium Development Goals, which include granting primary education to all children and eliminating poverty by the year 2015. This year, an estimated 38.7 million people around the world stood up and spoke out, a 65% increase from last year's total of 23.5 million.

It is encouraging to see such an increase in participants this year from last, for it says people do care about poverty and wish to see its demise. Does this mean it will end by 2015, as promised? I don't know. It's already 2007, and, while (depending on whom you ask) some progress has been made, the surface has barely been scratched. I, myself, helped try to spread awareness to the public, only to find very few seemingly interested people. Is poverty too disturbing to most individuals for them to want to think, let alone do something about it? Are we too concerned with preserving our luxury to be willing to sacrifice some of it in the name of those with less to have a little more? Do we really want to hear all about how we benefit from poverty? Worst of all, about how it can so easily befall each of us?

And what about this collective of heads of state who calls itself the United Nations? Is it all that interested in ending poverty and educating the masses after all? Would its Security Council be what it is without mass poverty and ignorance? Do its members really wish to see an empowered public? Or would they rather remain the premier players in this giant game of Risk, in which we are but mere plastic pieces on the board, devoid of thought and feeling? Would they rather leave things the way they are, with the wheels of the global economy spinning out of control, while they cash their chips before the machinery breaks down?

Let's not restrict ourselves to recognizing our global plight to every 17 October, but rather think about it each and every day, and keep the thought alive by discussing it with friends, with colleagues, with family. Let's not succumb to apathy, for that is exactly what the powers-that-be want - need, even - for their dominion to continue. Let's listen to the stories of the down-trodden, and act as their voice against the status quo. Let's cease being complacent, with our asses on our easy chairs and our feet in the air while we stare blankly into that void created by the television, because, no matter how comfortable we seem at this time, we're all in this together: so many of us are living from one pay cheque to the next, and can easily find ourselves without that flux of income to keep our heads above water; each one of us is a slave to this system of capital. Let's not wait around for the United Nations to drag its heels on the pledge signed by 189 of its members in 2000; the power is within all of us to bring forth positive change, but said power is useless if we don't use it together. Let's together unleash this awesome force of good to halt this wave of evil, one that has been allowed to govern us since time immemorial, in its tracks.

Let's have faith in ourselves and in each other to do what is right. Each of us is only here for a short period of time, so why not leave something for the world that nurtures us while we're here, so that it may continue to nurture well after we depart? We cannot take our possessions with us when we do so.

Did I miss something?

Where was I when this was released? It seems Pat Tillman was murdered by his comrades?

And what of this "deliberately killed" nonsense? Why can't CBS use the word murder?

Talk about 'what the fuck'. If this is true, then it stands that the American government sacrificing three thousand of its own people for the sake of perpetual war doesn't seem so farfetched after all.

Surely, I would have caught something like this, if all of you did. I'm starting to freak out.

*calm*

So I missed this piece of news. Fair enough. So, where's the outcry? This piece of information has been known to us for nearly three months, yet very little has been done? Should I be surprised? It's no secret why this sort of "news" is best kept out of our collective conscious.

Ontario Election Results

Same old shit...different day.

Four more years of Dalton McGuinty

Riddle me this: the Liberal party wins nearly 70% of the electorate with only 40% of the popular vote, yet Ontarians reject the Mixed Member Proportional voting system by a near two-to-one margin. What's wrong with this picture?

It's not as if the vote matters much, anyway.

Three cheers for the status quo!

On this, the day on which we Canadians are supposed to give 'thanks'...

I awoke, for the umpteenth time, scratching my head, wondering if it will ever end.

At least six people were killed when an off-duty deputy sheriff went on a shooting rampage early Sunday in northern Wisconsin before he was shot dead by police, authorities said.

How fitting this weekend be marked by massacre; then again, how many weekends aren't? If Blackwater operatives can mow people down with impunity, what was to stop Tyler Peterson from doing the same? The blood of these seven unfortunate souls - I consider Officer Peterson as much a victim of this as he was the perpetrator - has returned to the earth to unite with the blood of those whose destruction we wrought as we colonized this land, those who we mourn on this, the day on which we are instructed to give "thanks".

I have a pen pal (do we still use this term?) who resides in Wisconsin, Crandon being her hometown. With her permission, I shall share her thoughts on the matter, as I can only go so far in my attempt to rationalize the seemingly irrational. Behold:

"...in a small town everyone knows everyone. All those kids had been to my house this summer. My brother summed it up well, senseless and disgusting. It's weird how you go through your past encounters and wonder if you could have done something or can do anything now to ease the pain. Perhaps that is arrogant though. To want to change past tragedy is human. To believe you can is futile. Empathy is the bridge i guess."

The following article, written by Thom Hartmann, may be three years old, but the content will forever ring true. I read it for the first time today, and thought I would share with those who have not had the opportunity to read:

Columbus Day Celebration? Think Again...

In lieu of verbalizing ad nauseam about the despair my ancestors wrought upon yours, I wish to (somehow) put a positive spin on this day of mourning, so allow me to give 'thanks' to Thom Hartmann for writing this piece, and to all of you beautiful, brilliant souls who are trying your best to survive and change this world for the better. We cannot undo the sins of the past, but, by bringing them to light, we can hope to ensure they are never repeated again.

Mahalo.

Sending a message to the commoner

Minnesota woman ordered to pay $220,000 for downloading music

Right now, if you listen closely, you can hear the sound of clinking champagne glasses, as Sony, BMG, Arista, Interscope, UMG, Capitol and Warner, with the help of their Eichmanns at the RIAA, toast another conquest over the common folk. While they continue to reap exorbitant sums of wealth off the backs of those deemed "marketable", a young woman living paycheque to paycheque is now forced to pay $9,250 for each of the twenty-four songs she allegedly downloaded. I doubt very much of that money will make its way to the artists themselves.

Perhaps it's time to rinse out the old cassette player and rekindle the tape-trading practice of the 1980s and 1990s, before the digital exchange made it more convenient. Perhaps my memory serves me incorrectly, but I don't seem to recall record executives lining up behind the RIAA to sue people left and right for possessing tape-recorded copies of their favourite albums. The irony of it all is - we seem to see irony rear its snickering grin consistently through human existence - Metallica, the band who, in 2000, alongside Dr. Dre, spearheaded the crusade against the sharing of music digitally, gained popularity through the practice of (yes!) tape-trading in the early 1980s.

Of course, don't expect the RIAA to represent the interests of any independent musical acts who struggle, by and by, to get their music heard by the masses. It's not as if they make music people want to hear: we might want to hear them were we not bombarded by radio stations and advertising telling us what music we ought to like. Perhaps they, too, would reap the benefits Metallica did a quarter of a century ago had more people been exposed to their creations. Even if these artists did feel they were being short-changed, it's not as if they can afford to utilize the legal channel.

Let this be a lesson to all of you: if you displease your corporate overlords, you will pay, and you will pay dearly, even if they have to garnish your already meager wages for the rest of your miserable life. These record executives work long and hard to exploit artistic talent for their own monetary gain, and they will be damned if you scrape so much as a copper penny from their coffers.

It's time to go to the polls again...

...and I don't know what to do.



Really? Is it really going to matter if I do? Are there politicians serious about representing their constituents? about ensuring they make informed decisions about their future and the people they assign to bring it to fruition? Or is this simply a dog-and-pony show? a mere popularity contest, similar to that of our two main cola rivals? (coincidentally, our two major parties bear the same colours as each respective cola)

Leading up to our last national election on 23 January 2006 - when the Great White Knight, one Stephen Harper, rode the wave of Liberal discontent all the way into 24 Sussex Drive - I took it upon myself to send each candidate in my riding a short (initially lengthy) questionnaire to gauge where they stood on the various issues of which our national government might be responsible. Not surprisingly, the only response I received came from the one candidate with the least chance of winning, and, naturally, with the least to lose. I conducted the same exercise with our city candidates leading up to our electing a mayor and council on 13 November 2006, which yielded similar results.

Ontarians return to the polls next Wednesday, 10 October 2007, to (a) decide which persons will keep the chairs warm down at Queen's Park, and (b) decide whether or not our current means by which corporate lackeys end up in the Legislature. I had thoughts of repeating the exercise with my provincial candidates, but I don't know if I should even bother. Perhaps I'll do it for kicks during one of my breaks from studying.

That being said, the question remains: will I be a good little citizen, do as I'm told and shuffle off to the polling station? Apparently, our forefathers fought and died for my right to conduct this perfunctory exercise (while our elite reaped massive capital gains), and my refusal of said right would be akin to kicking dirt in their faces and joining the Nazi party (with whom our elite collaborated to reap massive capital gains). If casting my ballot is the means by which I let my voice be heard, why am I being told what to say? Why isn't my refusal as audible as my submission? Why, if we are not happy with any of the choices, are we not permitted to select "none"? Why can't I vote for "no one"?



Thank you.

My friends, contrary to the painstaking efforts by the elite to convince us otherwise with their elections and what-not, this is not a democracy - I realize my readers are already aware of this, but to those who might not be, I cannot stress this enough. The Mayor of Toronto has no power. The Premier of Ontario has no power. The Prime Minister of Canada has no power. The power lies in the hands of the likes of Magna, of SNC-Lavalin, of General Motors, General Electric and General Dynamics. These positions in government are but stepping stones to each official's favourite think tank.

We can reclaim the power, so long as we cease surrendering it. Alone, we're powerless, but, together, we are the power.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"Sovereignty cannot be represented, for the same reason it cannot be alienated; its essence is the general will, and will cannot be represented - either it is the general will, or it is something else; there is no intermediate possibility. Thus the people's deputies are not, and could not be, its representatives; they are merely its agents; and they cannot decide anything finally. Any law which the people has not ratified in person is void; it is not law at all. The English people believes itself to be free; it is gravely mistaken; it is free only during the election of Members of Parliament; as soon as the Members are elected, the people is enslaved; it is nothing. In the brief moments of its freedom, the English people makes such a use of that freedom that it deserves to lose it."

- Jean-Jacques Rousseau, The Social Contract, p. 141