FusunA's Open Salon Blog

Is Freedom of Press under Attack in Montréal?

Wed, 23 May 2012 20:05:05 -0400

The student movement which reached its 100^th day on May 22^nd was attended by half a million protesters including students, educators and people from many communities and businesses in and outside of the province was a strong movement that echoed its message in other parts of the world including New York, Vancouver, Calgary and Paris.

If you read none of this piece, I urge you please, to take a look at this link to have a modicum of fair and informed knowledge about what has been transpiring in Montreal for the last 101 days between students and the incumbent government of Premier Jean Charest. The rest of this piece will shed more insight with references and links to news from various media articles.

The student movement is and always has been a peaceful movement, which actually represents a large portion of Québec society and their values, and not only a fringe, radical movement of a few spoiled, self-entitled brats, which is the image the Canadian media is giving the Québec students by repeating the same broken record of an argument, that "Québec students pay the lowest tuition in the country. "

The student strikes are far deeper than what they seem on the surface. In fact a study into their recent history will easily reveal that the student strike is not simply related to increased tuition fees, but to much broader issues affecting all of society. Some of these important leading events were the Salon Plan Nord (where the contrast between the government's planned investment of 30 billion dollars or so for environmentally destructive development and potentially corrupt projects on Inuit land and their 'lack of funds' for education became clearer.)

In the light of Premier Charest's proposed increase of student loan limits but not freezing of the fees (which brought the issue of student debt to light), the education minister, Line Beauchamp, resigned, stating her reason for her action not as the consequence of the riots but that she did not see herself as part of the solution. She was immediately replaced by Michelle Courchesne, who immediately drafted and signed Law 78 which raises the fact that Mr Charest once again hides behind his ministers – rather than facing his responsibilities as the leader of a province and solving issues, but rather attacking the youth with police force that used clubs and pepper spray to subdue them.

History has demonstrated in many instances that power corrupts; and absolute power corrupts absolutely. Montréal has been living riveting examples of this during the last three months through her most promising potential: the students of today; the intellects of her tomorrow. Nations who try killing the spirit of their youth by burdening them with physical, psychological and financial scars, while their leaders spend millions of unaccounted and unnecesssary dollars to exercise their power are bound to fail in the long term. Mr Charest is only a provincial example. Canadian Prime Minister Stephen Harper is no less corrupt and unscrupulous when it comes to squandering and increasing the annual federal spending to $276 billion — an increase of nearly 30 per cent, since he came to power in 2006.

Students are the conscience and the pulse of a society. We need to listen to them with open ears and unbiased hearts. They have limited means to express what they believe is right and is important for their future. Our generation cannot be too proud with the legacy we are about to leave them. The least we can do is allow them the right to free education and development of their potentials and intellect so that they will, if we are lucky, find solutions to the problems we have created so irresponsibly in our reckless life times.

Finally, I would like to share the following letter which was sent out by Professor Daniel Weinstock, Director of the University of Montreal, Centre for Research in Ethics, on the day of the march of the half million in Montreal to mark the 100^th day of this movement.

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An Open Letter to English-Canadians, who might be feeling that Quebeckers have taken leave of their senses.

by Daniel Weinstock on Tuesday, May 22, 2012 at 3:09am ·

An open letter to my English-Canadian friends. Please circulate in your networks as you see fit.

You may have heard that there has been some turmoil in Quebec in recent weeks. There have been demonstrations in the streets of Montreal every night for almost a month now, and a massive demonstration will be happening tomorrow, which I will be attending, along with my wife, Elizabeth Elbourne, and my eldest daughter Emma.

Reading the Anglo-Canadian press, it strikes me that you have been getting a very fragmented and biased picture of what is going on. Given the gulf that has already emerged between Quebec and the rest of Canada in the wake of the 2011 election, it is important that the issues under discussion here at least be represented clearly. You may decide at the end of the day that we are crazy, but at least you should reach that decision on the basis of the facts, rather than of the distortions that have been served up by the G&M and other outlets.

First, the matter of the tuition hikes, which touched off this mess. The rest of the country seems to have reached the conclusion that the students are spoiled, selfish brats, who would still be paying the lowest tuition fees even if the whole of the proposed increase went through.

The first thing to say is that this is an odd conception of selfishness. Students have been sticking with the strikes even knowing that they may suffer deleterious consequences, both financial and academic. They have been marching every night despite the threat of beatings, tear-gas, rubber bullets, and arrests. It is, of course, easier for the right-wing media to dismiss them if they can be portrayed as selfish kids to whom no -one has ever said "no". But there is clearly an issue of principle here.

OK, then. But maybe the principle is the wrong one. Free tuition may just be a pie-in-the sky idea that mature people give up on when they put away childish things. And besides, why should other people pay for the students' "free" tuition? There is no such thing as "free" education. Someone, somewhere, has to pay. And the students, the criticism continues, are simply refusing to pay their "fair share".

Why is that criticism simplistic? Because the students' claim has never been that they should not pay for education. The question is whether they should do so up front, before they have income, or later, as taxpayers in a progressive taxation scheme. Another question has to do with the degree to which Universities should be funded by everyone, or primarily by those who attend them. So the issue of how to fund Universities justly is complicated. We have to figure out at what point in people's lives they should be paying for their education, and we also have to figure out how much of the bill should be footed by those who do not attend, but who benefit from a University-educated work force of doctors, lawyers, etc. The students' answer to this question may not be the best, but then it does not strike me that the government's is all that thought out either.

And at least the students have been trying to make ARGUMENTS and to engage the government and the rest of society in debate, whereas the government's attitude, other than to invoke the in-this-context-meaningless "everyone pays their faire share" argument like a mantra, has been to say "Shut up, and obey".

What strikes the balance in the students' favour in the Quebec context is that the ideal of no up-front financial hurdles to University access is enshrined in some of the most foundational documents of Quebec's Quiet Revolution, in particular the Parent Commission Report, which wrested control of schools from the Church and created the modern Quebec education system, a cornerstone of the kind of society that many Quebeckers see themselves as aspiring to. Now, it could be that that ideal is no longer viable, or that we may no longer want to subscribe to it. But moving away from it, as Charest's measures have done, at least requires a debate, analogous to the debate that would have to be had if the Feds proposed to scrap the Canada Health Act. It is clearly not just an administrative measure. It is political through and through. Indeed it strikes at fundamental questions about the kind of society we want to live in. If this isn't the sort of thing that requires democratic debate, I don't know what is.

The government has met the very reasonable request that this issue, and broader issues of University governance, be at least addressed in some suitably open and democratic manner with silence, then derision, then injunctions, and now, with the most odious "law" that I have seen voted by the Quebec National Assembly in my adult memory. It places the right of all Quebec citizens to assemble, but also to talk and discuss about these issues, under severe limitations. It includes that most odious of categories: crimes of omission, as in, you can get fined for omitting to attempt to prevent someone from taking part in an act judged illegal by the law. In principle, the simple wearing of the by-now iconic red square can be subject to a fine. The government has also made the student leaders absurdly and ruinously responsible for any action that is ostensibly carried out under the banners of their organizations. The students groups can be fined $125000 whenever someone claiming to be "part" of the movement throws a rock through a window. And so on. It is truly a thing to behold.

The government is clearly aware that this "law" would not withstand a millisecond of Charter scrutiny. It actually expires in July 2013, well before challenges could actually wind their way through the Courts. The intention is thus clearly just to bring down the hammer on this particular movement by using methods that the government knows to be contrary to basic liberal-democratic rule-of-law principles. The cynicism is jaw-dropping. It is beneath contempt for the government to play fast and loose with our civil rights and liberties in order to deal with the results of its own abject failure to govern.

So that is why tomorrow I will be taking a walk in downtown Montreal with (hopefully!) hundreds of thousands of my fellow citizens. Again, you are all free to disagree, but at least don't let it be because of the completely distorted picture of what is going on here that you have been getting from media outlets, including some from which we might have expected more.

Daniel

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Rebel with a conscience - Man with a vision

Thu, 17 May 2012 17:05:27 -0400

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The first part of this piece is titled after Governor Russ Peterson’s autobiographical book and written as a tribute to him for his legacy to Delawareans. On my recent family reunion in Wilmington, my sisters and I took Annecim on an outing along the River Front. During my last visit to that lovely place, I was smitten by the bird houses built by a local artist and had blogged about it.

Russ Peterson was born in Wisconsin on October 3, 1916. After earning his Ph.D. in chemistry, he moved to Delaware in 1942, where he pursued a twenty-six year career as a research scientist and corporate executive for DuPont before entering politics.

Gov. Peterson’s signature achievement during his single term as governor (1969 to 1973) was the creation of Delaware’s Coastal Zone Act of 1971, a model environmental statute that earned Peterson worldwide acclaim. The act was designed to protect Delaware’s fragile coastal areas by banning new heavy industrial development along the coastline.

His steadfast championship of the cause, in the face of withering opposition from industrial interests and heavy political damage, led him on a journey of environmental advocacy that continued to the end of his life, and gained him international recognition as an environmentalist, scientist, activist and public servant. He served as chair of the Council on Environmental Quality (1973-1976) and president of the National Audubon Society (1979-1985), in which capacity he advised Presidents Richard Nixon, Gerald Ford, and Jimmy Carter on environmental issues.

The extensive marsh restoration process that began in late 1990's enabled beneficial vegetation to flourish in the marsh, providing a habitat for wetland wildlife. Since then, efforts have included shoreline stabilization, re-excavating water channels to their historic patterns, trail system development, and installation of wildlife nesting structures. Finally, in October, 2009, The DuPont Education Center was opened.

I've had the privilege of meeting and being given a personal tour of his works by sculptor Charles C. Parks in the late 70's, when he and his wife were my sister's neighbours, living in the Rockford Park area, Wilmington. Parks is best known for his realistic conveyance of common, everyday people – particularly Black Americans, and their underlying dignity, as well as children who convey a sense of playfulness and sadness through social circumstances. The above plaque, as well as the larger than life sculpture of Russell Peterson, was dedicated by the renowned sculptor and speaks for itself.

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Governor Peterson also served as member of Delaware First Media’s Advisory Board since DFM’s founding in 2009.

In 2010 he contributed a commentary to DFM News on another cause he championed for decades: reform of the criminal justice system.

Russell W. Peterson Wildlife Refuge is located at the south of the Shipyard Shops along Wilmington's Riverfront. It is not only a unique environmental experience to visitors like me, but the residents and schoolchildren of Wilmington have year-round access to wildlife education and recreation.

Today, the refuge is one of the few urban wildlife areas in the country.

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A view from the wildlife refuge

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The copper Owl

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Wild mushrooms

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Shelters for geese and migratory birds

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Kalmar Nyckel The Tall Ship of Delaware

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Former Delaware Governor and visionary environmentalist
Russell Peterson died at age 94, on February 22, 2011.

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Words and photos are intellectual property of F. Atalay

Location: Wilmington, DE.

Sources: Delaware Public Archives, Encyclopedia Britannica, Vikipedia

Genesis

Mon, 7 May 2012 09:05:24 -0400

- an allegorical photo essay

Look carefully. What do you see? On each branch, trunk, and root there are stories waiting to be discovered, interpreted, told. Let your imagination take wing and come along on the journey. I've been encountering trees, listening to their stories, learning from their wisdom, and witnessing much that had escaped my eyes before.

See the two robed figures below facing each other, enshrined in the bark? Here's what the taller one revealed to me:

Trunks have many stories.

Some trees invite one to cradle and dream on their branches.

Others hardly show their roots, hidden deeply in the earth.

There are roots that have strived long and hard for existence and survival.

Fair winds and storms have both left their indelible marks.

Young branches sought their off-the-beaten-path fortunes . . .

. . . before accepting and reaching up to straighter paths towards light.

Generations, despite all adversities, carry on.

Past wounds, in new hopes, are forgotten.

Time brings on change,

beauty,

ideas and textures.

So long as the past and the roots are not forgotten. . .

and stories are recorded in every cherished groove.

Gashes and wounds will all heal in time.

Life, in its generations, will go on.

As long as mankind can learn from their past and maintain peace.

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Words and photos are property of F. Atalay.

Location: Longwood Gardens, PA.

How I ducked the US customs without a passport :o)

Sun, 29 Apr 2012 19:04:11 -0400

Image

Alright. I admit. Ducking the US Customs maybe slightly misleading, because I actually did not sneak in nor was I smuggled through the border – since that is what I may have inadvertently implied. It's not my intent to sound tabloid'ish to garner readers. Nor is my writing racist. Upon much reflection on its insignificance in the universe of things, I cannot offer another way to summarize my recent experience. But please keep in mind that this piece is not about race, prejudice, nationality, or color. In fact, if you can go back to those years when we were unaware of something called Political Correctness – PC, and then remember how relaxed and happier we were, then hold onto that thought. Stay in that frame of mind until you complete reading. You'll understand my references, which otherwise some may jump upon as “racist”.

It's a long story but if I think about it, the lesson I learned from what happened is really universal. I also view it as one more peg to strengthen my belief: If something is meant to happen, it will – no matter how slim the odds are; and conversely, the well-worn adage about the “best laid plans of mice and men”.

One of the reasons O. must have been my only best friend over thirty years is that we are so alike in many ways. In others, our extreme polarity has saved us in many times of distress.

Like yesterday.

We had planned for coffee and a stroll at the market; I'd pick her up at 2:00. When I was drying my hair, my sister called announcing she was in town for the day. Thinking of two beautiful birds with one sto. . no. . no! Of a wonderful gesture, I asked her if she'd like to join us at the market. She had an hour frame between 2:00 and 3:00. Perfect!

As soon as we hung up, my sister called with an alternate plan: Getting to the Market would lose her half an hour; instead why didn't I and O. have coffee at her place? Great idea, O. and my sister like each other very much. My heart was beating with premature accomplishment when I dialled O. again but the answering machine picked up. I asked her to call me right back and said I'd pick her up at 1:30, not 2:00. I had a surprise.

An hour later, ready to leave, I called once again but was crestfallen to speak to the recorder and yelled at the stupid machine to be ready at the door in five minutes. I was leaving NOW!

When I'm torn between quick decisions, equally important choices, people I love, I must fly on automatic pilot. I don't know whether I answer to reason, instinct or panic, but an unknown hand guides me. So far that hand has been benevolent, letting me get by unscathed, except with intimately shared comical memories – which, in retrospect I believe happened for a reason – with the people I love. That is a great blessing in itself.

It must have been that Benevolent Hand steering the wheel of my car which took me almost to the Canada US border yesterday, when all I wanted was to drive back from downtown Montréal to the South Shore, a fifteen minute drive over the Champlain Bridge. What happened in between was. . .

Her husband, awakened from his nap, answered the door. He had no idea where she was – may be she was gone on one of her walks. I decided to wait in my car; it's 1:34. I could make it to my sister's place in 15 minutes. It's Saturday. The bridge should be clear. . . Five more minutes lapse and I think to myself: Oh, gosh, if she comes back from one of her power walks, she'll be sweaty and has to change! There's No way I can make it there for 2:oo! I scribble a quick story – a brief summary of what's here, and add I'll return at 3:20 to pick her up and go somewhere else – stuff it in the mailbox, and hit the highway . Aha!

I made it to my sister's flat by 2:10 – construction between René Levesque and du Maisonneuve. Time flies by. Coffee, talk, laughter, more talk, memories. . . It's 3:37! A quick hug, kiss, kiss. Roll down the window and hold hands. Blow back a kiss. Back on the Ville Marie facing the South Shore. I feel guilty for standing up O. so decided to give her a call on my car phone. (It came with the lease). O. beat me to apologies, explaining what happened (insert the absurd, here) and as I listen to her, I start enjoying the hands-free phone while I drive. So I ask if we can keep talking until I arrive at her doorstep. This will be the longest call I've made, calmly while driving, and to boot - I have over two hundred minutes to use up by the end of May. The idea entertains her too – as long as I'm careful. I can visualize her settling on the armchair.

Traffic is light, cool but sunny afternoon, and it's a different world to be driving and chatting with my best friend about philosophical – of all – things. There's an on the road, again kind of feeling in there somewhere, for me. Life is a highway. . .

I digress.

I just want to pull into her driveway and say, “I'm here!” But somehow, some mini-instant, a tiny devil or temporary cross-wiring in my brain makes me take the wrong parting of the Y on the road and drive through progressively unfamiliar looking landmarks. When I realize I may be lost, I hear her grip tighten on her phone.

She insisted COSTCO should be on my right! I never even passed one before, going to her. I was approaching silver domed churches, a lake – or maybe St Lawrence – on my right, now passing through what looked like wheat fields – they were uncut, dry hay. She was gasping, trying to picture where could I be! She was relieved hearing the municipality of Candiac. “I know that name! We lived there 25 years ago, remember?” I passed through two more names that evoked her memories until we determined that I was on my way to the US border. Seeing the “Duty Free/H'Ors Taxes” sign was somewhat helpful. My first utterance, Oh, O.! My passport is at home! was her call to calming down. While I started imagining myself dragged into detention rooms for id verification and questioning, O was sounding calm and logical. I rolled up my window to cut out excess traffic sound so I could hear her every word of wisdom.

There used to be a turn off before the “douanes” so I should just turn around at first chance. Can you see an exit, U turn sign? Whatever you do, don't turn into any of those unfamiliar French towns!

almost made it

All U turn possibilities were filled were pylons, as well as marked “illegal”, and forget the exits. Direction-wise, I cannot join the dots abstractly, period. I'm just another Evangeline, who can only re-trace her way back as the crow flies, even it means taking the longest route. That's the cautious, patient, responsible goat in me, not the ambitious, calculating, mountain-climbing one. The was tank half full, sun was still up, and I had company. . . Why not laugh and joke?

The longest route I took from my place to O.

How O. remote-directed me from USA

Why we need a GP – or do we?

How our characters may clash with a GP

If you asked a Newfie. . . *

Do you know the one about a Frenchman and a Turk?*

Thus echoed in old jokes from our culture, and offended no one. That was half of our conversation yesterday, as I drove until almost the end of the Canadian land when, just a few kilometres from the US border I saw a free U turn, took a chance, and pulled an illegal one. My senses alert for sings of sirens and lights, O. and I were right on the way back to home! The rest was easy, everything fell on its right side.

Lacolle US Canada crossing

We had planned to meet and spend the afternoon together for longer than it took my sister and me to actually do it. It wasn't mean to happen, yet my unplanned meeting with my sister against all attempts to include O. went ahead. In turn, my delay from her to pick up O. resulted in my getting lost and having the longest, yet one of the deeper, more cathartic conversations with her because I went on a 60 mile round trip with 200 minutes left on my car phone. So out of the blue, like many events in my life – big or small – that have a deeply touching effect on me.

Maybe one shouldn't try to read a meaning into everything and not make a big deal out of a small mistake. Maybe everything doesn't happen for a purpose. Maybe it is a random universe and I should get a life. Then I think again and say to myself, even if everything may not happen always for a purpose; in what does happen there's a lesson to be learned. None too big or too small. Each lesson tempers what makes us, us; and therein lies the key to finding our inner peace.

So, my friend and I named April 28, 2012 our “Border Gate”. Whenever we mention the phrase, it will trickle an entire slew of memories all with their warmth, panic, adrenaline rush, empowerment, laughter, tears. . . She's flying to Istanbul on Monday until September. That was supposed to be our mini farewell. We both agree it was the best one when we had almost two hours of undivided conversation and talked our hearts out to each other - linked by a land line and a hands off car phone - until I drowe into her driveway. Then we had tea, sat a while, hugged, and said farewell, see you in September.

I was thinking of not buying any more minutes, since I hardly use OnStar.

Now, I'm seriously reconsidering.

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* If you are curious about the Newfie, or Frenchman and the Turk joke, please pm me.

Happy Birthday, Mar10 !

Fri, 9 Mar 2012 23:03:31 -0500

HAPPY BIRTHDAY, MIGUELA!

The good Birthday Fairy has been very busy making sure that her friends were not forgotten on their special day, but cheered on and celebrated by us all, whose lives they enrich with their contributions here on Open Salon where artists, thinkers, and writers from many parts of the world meet.

Recently, in addition to her many other talents, Miguela generously shares here, she also demonstrated her ingenius frugality about fashion on a small budget. To honour our dear friend on her special day, I thought including the photo of a Golden Book dress would be just the right gesture. This will combine her love of books (as a retired colleague) as well as her flair for couture. Links, along the way, will add to the merriment with song and music.

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This beautiful gown was made by using the pages of Walt Disney's Golden books - something that is very much a part of my own childhood. Every page meticulously preserved, cut and applied to the master pattern, the result is a lovely, delicate, colourful, storybook dress that feeds one's fancy.

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Internationally recognized for his Golden Book gown, Ryan Jude Novelline is described as "a Boston-based alchemist who spends his free time in search of the extraordinary". He has displayed his work in Boston, New York, Providence, and Orlando. Currently he's a senior BFA candidate at the Rhode Island School of Design, and an intern for Diane Von Furstenberg.

♥ * Feliz Cumpleaños * ♥

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I also know that Miquela enjoys a leisurely tea party with all the nice settings. For this occasion, I picked a slightly different tea tradition, and song which I hope she'll like, because Turks are also drinkers and producers of tea which we call "çay".

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Before you continue further, please click on this link.

♣♥♣

A Friendship Poem

Be a friend. You don't need money:
Just a disposition sunny;
Just the wish to help another
Get along some way or other;
Just a kindly hand extended
Out to one who's unbefriended;
Just the will to give or lend,
This will make you someone's friend.

Be a friend. You don't need glory.
Friendship is a simple story.
Pass by trifling errors blindly,
Gaze on honest effort kindly,
Cheer the youth who's bravely trying,
Pity him who's sadly sighing;
Just a little labor spend
On the duties of a friend.

Be a friend. The pay is bigger
(Though not written by a figure)
Than is earned by people clever
In what's merely self-endeavor.
You'll have friends instead of neighbors
For the profits of your labors;
You'll be richer in the end
Than a prince[ss], if you're a friend.

~ Edgar A Guest ~

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Have a lovely birthday and many happy returns, dear ♥ Miguela♥

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