Tag Archives: social justice

On Tyranny: The Grim Reader

Today’s entry into The Grim Reader is a slim little volume called On Tyranny: Twenty Lessons from the Twentieth Century by Timothy Snyder. And when I say slim, I mean it. It’s an essay, really. It clocks in at 126 pages but the book is only 6″ x 4″. Tiny. Yet, it has a lot to say.

I’m breaking the rules because On Tyranny is not about climate catastrophe. But tyranny will only add to the catastrophe we face, so I’ll allow it. Also, it’s my blog, and these things will happen from time to time. So today, maybe it’s “The Slim Reader,” not “The Grim Reader.” (That was a really bad joke.)

Many of us born and raised in Canada after WWII are reluctant to think we have been touched by tyranny. I spent decades living in Alberta, Canada. In the early 90’s, I was teaching in a small town where some of the leaders of the brand new Reform movement lived. I was a young thing from Toronto and not having any of it. The brand of politics that has flourished in Alberta since then, nurtured on a poisonous and steady diet of oil, gas, and exceptionalism is not anything I want to be part of.

Inevitably, the politics in Alberta have not stayed in Alberta. They affect the rest of Canada. And that’s not because Albertans are right (no pun intended). It is in our human natures to try to be reasonable and accommodating. We are social animals. We want to stay with the group and keep the peace. We want Confederation to work. No one wants to break up the family. We want to get along. We are people who compromise (in a good way). We want as much “normal” as we can get. And as “normal” shifts, very often, we shift with it. (See Overton Window.)

This might be especially true in Canada where the motto, “peace, order and good government” is one many of us grew up with. We believe in it so deeply, we can’t imagine losing it. Our institutions will protect us, we think. But as Snyder notes, it is the other way around. We have to protect our institutions.

It’s important to note that peace, order, and good government were never true for marginalized people. Indigenous people certainly wouldn’t have accused Canada of having valued peace, order, or good government. Maybe more like “colonization, suppression, and control.”

Anyway. Here’s another way into Snyder’s work. We all know that ridiculous uncle who comes to dinner and drinks too much and spouts off and ruins everything. Then dinner is over and we all have a bad taste in our mouths. But we pretty much get to forget about him until the next gathering, the next holiday, the next wedding, or the next funeral (which, with any luck, will be his but these people seem to live forever even if they drink and eat cheeseburgers every day).

But imagine if you had to have dinner with that uncle every night? Ask an Indigenous person about that. What was it like for them when settlers took over? Imagine if the drunk uncle takes over as host and he sticks you at the children’s table? What then?

Snyder’s advice on what to do when tyrants try to take over is wide-ranging. These are also history lessons. From a warning against “anticipatory obedience” to new authoritarian measures, to urging us to “stand out” in our defiance, these lessons are critical now. He writes, “The moment you set an example, the spell of the status quo is broken, and others will follow.” One person can make a difference. This is the truth that people in power, that tyrants, don’t want you to believe, They want you to feel useless and depressed and despondent. They want you to go along with whatever it is they are doing because what’s the use in trying? We all know you can’t fight city hall.

But that’s not true. You make a difference. I make a difference. Stand up. Speak out.

Don’t worry about what that drunken uncle thinks of you. He’s ruining dinner for everyone, and we all know it. And it’s not his kids’ fault. Don’t blame them. Or his wife. It’s harder for them to stand up to him. They’ve got more to lose. The same is true for your average Alberta citizen who is kind and generous and would be the first to stop and help you if your car broke down, take you home while you wait for the tow truck and offer you a piece of pie and a cup of coffee.

It’s up to you. It’s up to me.

To be clear, Snyder does not talk about drunken uncles. He does talk about Churchill. Churchill stood out in WWII by refusing to give in to Hitler. He didn’t call Poland or France or Austria far away foreign countries that had nothing to do with him. He understood that the fate of those countries was tied to England’s. How did that end? Germany and Hitler were defeated. Churchill did not concede in advance, as others had done. (And please don’t reply with a history lesson. Just read the book and know that I am not doing Snyder’s argument justice with my brevity.)

Snyder also does not talk about Indigenous people and the history of white settler colonialism specifically. But, I feel certain that he would agree that it  was and remains tyrannical and that decolonization is an important means of acting against all tyranny.

Another of Snyder’s lessons is to “Be kind to our language,” by which he means don’t mindlessly repeat memes and clichés. Make an effort to say what you mean in your own way, if only to force yourself to think about it. (Thus, my drunken uncle analogy.)

Snyder’s lessons, while specific to tyranny, apply to all kinds of things. For example, he writes, “You submit to tyranny when you renounce the difference between what you want to hear and what is actually the case.” The desire to retain “normal” at all costs has cost us all. The pandemic rages on, bringing with it more death and mass disability. We continue to fail to make adequate progress on a just transition away from fossil fuels. COP 28 was held in a petro-authoritarian state and pocked with oil industry lobbyists. Sigh.

What would Snyder do? There is so much good advice. Be in the real world, on the street. That’s where change happens. The real work is done in the real world, not on the internet. (I am aware of the irony. But he also says we have access to mass communication tools and we should use them.)

“Make eye contact and small talk.” Talk to cashiers and neighbours and the receptionist at the dental office. Ask them about themselves. Listen to learn. Don’t fail to listen because you are busy thinking about the next thing YOU want to say. Be curious. Connect. Care. What do you have in common? What is it that you both care about? Maybe some day you will talk to them about what they are willing to do to save something important to them and important to you. Maybe some day, you will work on that together.

Snyder’s grimmest moment is when he writes about the average guy, who under the thumb of a tyrant, finds it is his job to shoot people and watch them fall into a mass grave. Or maybe his job is to bulldoze the dirt over the bodies. In another world, he might have been a plumber or a cop. Hey, it’s happened before. It can happen again. He warns people to “Be reflective if you must be armed.” Police forces historically have been put into the service of tyrants with terrible results. Grim indeed.

But also inspirational. His last lesson is, “Be as courageous as you can.” He writes, “If none of us is prepared to die for freedom, then all of us will die under tyranny.”

On Tyranny is must read. I’d be interested to know what parts of it speak to you.

Late add: Thanks to a reader who let me know there is a newer graphic edition which is haunting. Look for it.

 

 

 

 

Travelling in Troubling Times

Fires near Kelowna BC. Photo Credit: The Canadian Press.

British Columbia, the province in which I live, has just issued fire-zone travel bans in response to unprecedented wildfires. Evacuations are underway. Non-emergency vehicles are not needed on the roads while people try to escape to somewhere else.

I wonder: how long will any of us be travelling anymore?

I am disinclined to fly anywhere anymore. At least not for pleasure. (But seriously, the pleasure of flying ended a long time ago. Cramped, uncomfortable seats, intolerable security lines, unexplained delays, and so much more have made flying an experience to get through rather than one to enjoy.) For me, the end of masking made flying dangerous to my health. It’s a grand opportunity to catch SARS-CoV-2. A recent study found over 80% of US flights had Omicron RNA in the wastewater, and the number of people coughing or otherwise visibly ill on the two flights I have taken since the start of the pandemic easily convinced me that flying is a bad idea for me unless absolutely necessary.

I took those two flights wearing a respirator and carrying a personal air purifier.

Me, waiting for a flight in November 2022. Funny/Not funny story. I was in the Air Canada Lounge and this woman not 15 feet away from me was having her snack and complaining to her friend that she didn’t even know why she was eating because she couldn’t taste anything. She said, ”Isn’t that weird?” No. Not so much weird as it is SARS-C0V-2. I moved to the other side of the lounge, where, likely, someone else had it too.

By 2019 standards, I looked ridiculous. By pandemic standards, I look just fine, at least to me. (Although I also look disastrously tired in this photo. It had been a long and difficult trip. And I can tell you, people stared.)

But what has really landed me in my own personal no-fly zone is the climate crisis. One of the half dozen or so truly impactful things I can do to reduce greenhouse gas emissions is to stop flying, or at least stop flying except when absolutely necessary.

What constitutes absolutely necessary? For me, the two air travel trips I have taken since the start of the pandemic were to prevent looming family crises. The thing is, we’ve come of age at a time when it is typical to live far away from family, and I do. Air travel made it possible to live like this and still be involved. Sometimes, I will have to travel by air if we want to be in touch on vital family matters. For me, I have decided this is necessary.

If I’m going, if I’m going to burn up all that carbon, I’ll make the absolute most of it. I combined the first trip with a book tour. To be clear, I would not have taken the book tour to Toronto if there also hadn’t been important family matters to attend to.

A vacation with air travel is a whole other thing. I can’t justify it anymore.

This summer, my partner and I drove our hybrid vehicle on our vacation as we camped and visited friends. Nothing is perfect, you know? Driving is better than flying. But it’s not great. There’s no holier than thou going on here. (One of my new favourite expressions is ”granolier than thou.”) I am by no means the person who lives an exemplary life. Like all of us, I’m struggling to learn how to live in our new pandemicene era. I’m just sharing one of my own personal decisions, a judgement I made for myself—not for others.

It’s a privilege to travel in so many ways, one which I acknowledge and am grateful to have had. I am giving up a privilege. I’m not giving up clean water. But it’s also not like giving up turnips, which I do not like. That would be easy to do. I’m giving up possibility. I’m giving up something with positive associations. It’s been a long journey to first recognize and then deal with the new negative associations. And the airline industry hasn’t helped. I would get daily offers from Air Canada and Aeroplan in my inbox. I finally unsubscribed.

And what about driving? Some of the areas of BC that we travelled through by car this summer are now, just a few weeks later, ablaze. Our road trip did not help. I’m grappling with that. Earlier this summer, I read a news story about planes full of tourists continuing to land in Greece even though the country was in a state of emergency because of wildfires. A sister of a friend is flying to Maui in September. It just feels bad to me. It feels bad for me. It is not something I would do. Again, I make that judgement for myself. I’m not saying no one should ever go to Maui or Greece again. They depend on tourism. Or at least they have until now.

Now it seems they need their resources for themselves. Last November, we drove through the region where Lytton is, and there were signs asking people not to visit. Of course, we did not go there. I get it. No one needs a bunch of lookie-loos. People need to grieve, to regroup, to kick the ashes. And they don’t need me trying to buy a sandwich while they do it.

So, for now, rather than travelling in troubling times, I’ll be staying close to home. I’ll be revelling in the joys of the here and now, in the small pleasures of my glorious neighbourhood. That’s not anything to be upset about.

 

Book Recommendations for Mother’s Day

This morning, I happened upon a tweet by Jael Richardson who expressed that she’s not too keen on what she’s seeing on book recommendations for Mother’s Day. I responded, interested in what she would recommend.

Richardson’s point is that she wouldn’t make a different recommendation to mothers than she would for anyone else. She writes, “My favourite books for ‘mothers’ are my favourite books for people.” Yep, true. She objects to the spring time covers and so on, and is asking people to think about what the marketers think a “Mother’s Day book” is. It’s a good and important point to make.

Cover of (M)Othering, a new anthology edited by Anne Sorbie and Heidi Grogan

Some of the other tweeters on the thread point out that Mother’s Day recommendations can be triggering, and this is so true for people who struggle with infertility or who have lost a child or children or have experienced any of the myriad things that can happen. Anne Sorbie, editor of the upcoming (M)othering Anthology with Inanna in Spring 2022 (with Heidi Grogan) has as inclusive an approach to mothering as I do and says in her tweet, “All people are and do (m)other” to capture that inclusivity. I had recommended her upcoming book in my reply because, well, I’m in it, and I think it’s a logical Mother’s Day book recommendation. I am certain it will be inclusive and wonderful.

The flip side of Richardson’s point is that books about mothers are good for people.

I can’t help thinking that sometimes readers are looking for books that reflect their reality. Sometimes, it is helpful, (and not to be too dramatic) even life-saving, to find someone else who captures something of your experience with their words. A colleague of mine, Diana Gustafson, edited a book called “Unbecoming Mothers: The Social Production of Maternal Absence,” which was groundbreaking and, if it weren’t so darned hard to find now, would be a great Mother’s Day recommendation. It’s about the stigmatization of mothers who come to live apart from their children, for whatever reason. Mothers who give up, surrender, or abandon their children are among the most stigmatized.

What we do to mothers. (Shakes head.)

So, while the recommended books for Mother’s Day may be problematic, it is part of a bigger problem: Mother’s Day itself is problematic. It’s not literally a Hallmark Holiday, but it might as well be. It’s easy to create a situation in which people feel excluded and judged. It becomes the opposite of celebratory. Most problematic of all is the way our culture thinks about mothers, limits them, expects too much of them and offers very little by way of support. Even the notion that mothers are women is, thankfully, being deconstructed as we challenge gender constructs and stereotypes. All of this is welcome.

I also can’t help thinking that marketers are gonna market. Any opportunity to recommend books will be seized. Let’s try and be thoughtful about it.

Tis the season to think about Food Banks

Canada’s first food bank opened in Edmonton in 1981. People were hungry and the social safety net had failed them. Capitalism had failed them. Government had failed them. Maybe schools and employers and families and neighbours had failed them. Maybe they had failed themselves. Whatever the cause, people were hungry. Families and their little children were hungry. And so, as often happens, churches and charitable agencies stepped in. Individuals made donations. A system of redistributing food was developed. Perhaps you donate to a food bank. Many of us do. CBC Toronto is having its giant annual food bank drive today. I hope they raise a ton of money. No one wants a child to go hungry, or at least no one I would care to know wants a child to go hungry.

BUT —

Food banks were originally going to be a short-term response to immediate need. Once the limitations and failings which had enabled hunger to exist were addressed, food banks would no longer be needed and would disappear. That was 36 years ago. More than a generation has passed and food banks are everywhere and still absolutely necessary. They are an institution.  To borrow a phrase of Jean Swanson’s, Vancouver’s tireless anti-poverty activist, we have substituted charity for justice.

Let that sink in a minute. We have substituted charity for justice.

If you are donating to a food bank this year, I truly applaud you. Could you do something else too? Could you work a little on the justice part of this problem? Pick a piece of the source of this massive issue to tackle. If you think capitalism is the problem, think about what you can do to reverse trends that have placed resources in the hands of some while impoverishing others. Get involved in a community garden. Read about food security. Decide how you can contribute to creating food security for all. There are lots of people who have opinions and thoughts about what to do. If you think government is the problem, ask your representatives what they are doing to alleviate hunger. We get tax deductions for our donations. Maybe we shouldn’t. I don’t know. I don’t know all the answers. I’m only one person and I can’t solve local hunger by myself, let alone global hunger. But that’s no reason to avoid drawing attention to the problem or taking one small action beyond a food bank donation.

Here’s a little reading list, a little food for thought.

George Monibot, “Everything Must Go.”

Art Eggleton, “Three Ways to End Poverty in Canada.”

Canada Without Poverty. “Human Rights and Poverty Reduction Strategies.”

Jean Swanson, “Poor-Bashing.”

Elaine Power, “It’s Time to Close Canada’s Food Banks.”

Feel free to add other helpful reading materials in comments.