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a, Opinion

Is multiculturalism killing the core Canadian identity?

by Swathi Sadagopan on

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Two weeks ago, Statistics Canada released a report on Canadians’ linguistic characteristics. The report’s results suggest that while bilingualism is on the rise, about 20 per cent of Canadians reported speaking a language that wasn’t French or English at home. Following the publication of the report, the question of whether multiculturalism is eroding the ‘core Canadian identity’ is doing the rounds.

Multiculturalism was introduced as a Trudeauian liberal-socialist policy in the ‘60s.  While it was encouraged and extolled as contributing to the Canadian ‘cultural mosaic,’ there has been a recent reversal of sentiments in some circles.

In his book Delecteable Lie, Professor Salim Mansur, a Muslim born in Calcutta who immigrated to Canada 40 years ago, stacks a pile of arguments against the adoption of multiculturalism as national policy. According to Professor Mansur, the growing dissent stems from the notion that multiculturalism attenuates the goal of individual liberty over collective equality. The loss of one ‘core Canadian identity,’ he argues, is attributed to the proliferation of sub-identities that do not resonate with the whole.

Multiculturalism may have been a by-product of the counter-culture spirit of the ‘60s. Yet, it has been so deeply entrenched in the Canadian fabric that it might well define the Canadian identity today. Imposing restrictions, such as a language policy, are antithetical to democracy in Canada. Such a policy leads to the creation of a monochromatic society that might keep out people from diverse backgrounds, as it is designed to integrate only like communities. Diversity, however, is at the crux of Canadian identity and the freedom that every Canadian enjoys stems from it. It is this that binds Canada together as one whole—stoic and stable in a world rife with turmoil, economic or otherwise.

The other aspect to answering this question lies in understanding identity. Symbols such as a national sport—or unofficial ones such as local food—are strong binders glueing a sense of unity into the common psyche. While these are sufficient for a national identity, they are by no means completely necessary or even complete. In light of additional factors, such as a conducive environment for multiple cultures to thrive, these become redundant factors.

Richard F. Day, a noted Canadian historian, believes that there is an incompleteness associated with the idea of identity. The only way any country can appear complete is by imposing certain subtle restrictions that create a so-called unity among its citizens. The solution to this issue of incomplete identity lies in open acknowledgement of the ‘impossibility of full identity.’ Understanding and appreciating differences are key in creating an inclusive atmosphere that in turn will foster a true sense of unity.

While there is a shared common identity as a Canadian, our government does not baptize its citizens in the name of homogeneity. There is ample freedom to practice one’s own customs and traditions. Rather than seeing these as competing identities impeding overall progress, they are symbiotic that have common points of overlap.

New Canadians choose to immigrate with the intention of bettering their quality of life in a new land of promise and dreams. Hard-working immigrants, yearning for a better life, become a contributing key asset to the host country. But to reaffirm an immigrant’s conviction and loyalty to his new home, the host country must not only be tolerant, but also welcoming, of his unique culture.

Instead of a slippery slope creating a society divided by ethnic difference, I believe multiculturalism is the bridge towards embracing inherent diversity while warmly inviting newer citizens to join and recreate the whole. Multiculturalism—and the growing percentage of Canadians who speak languages other than English or French—should be seen as an empowering feature of the Canadian identity.

a, Opinion

Being critical of ‘objective facts’

by Victor Temprano on

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In his article in the Oct. 30 edition of the Ottawa Citizen entitled, “Racism, sexism and classism, oh my,” Bruce Bawer attempts to seriously indict the humanities, citing a widespread presence of ideologically-driven pedagogy. The piece points to Guillermo Martínez de Velasco’s recent piece in the McGill Daily, “You are racist,” as an example of what is wrong with  liberal arts education today. Bawer argues that today, college education is ultimately meant to indoctrinate young people with hatred for the West and with divisive ideas about class and human relations.

Bawer’s argument is a broad one—he claims that disciplines that emerged in the 1960s, especially those with ‘studies’ in their names, have strayed from their “legitimate scholarly interests.” He asserts that today, they are driven only by Marxist doctrine. We in the humanities do not, according to Bawer, stand up efficiently for ideals of academic and Western heritage. Instead, we are ‘brainwashed’ into relying on obscure jargon and cultural relativity, and have abandoned critical thinking altogether. Bawer offers his solution: namely, a return to the teaching of what he calls “objective facts about history,” as represented by “great literature and great philosophers.”

A simple question may be asked of Bawer: how do we in academia determine what constitutes an “objective fact about history”?  A student of history should be able to recognize that what we regard as objective fact is fluid and can change; monolithic stories are difficult to construct from the differing accounts of reliable sources. The process of learning how to interpret sources is often a process of questioning what we previously thought were concrete facts in our historical narratives. How do we determine what is really true? Should previous centuries’ written histories be taken as objective fact on the basis of their age alone?

The ‘studies’ Bawer derides represent new areas of inquiry, and attempt to open space within and to complicate what we now see as the oversimplified facts of the past. In my own field—Religious Studies, or more precisely, the 1960s’ creation Buddhist Studies—hundreds of years of Western academic writing has undergone extensive critique centred on the problems of Orientalism. This type of criticism may tire and frustrate writers like Bawer, who are sick of the deconstruction of Western sources, but the ostensible solution of returning to an idealized past when they did not exist is hardly tenable.

The post-1960s era in the humanities represents an attempt to confront deeply difficult questions about how we generate objective facts. We are not scientists, and the humanities have few, if any, methodologies that can rival the power of the scientific approach. Graduates and professors are regarded as ‘experts’ in their fields, able to explain what are the facts and what are not. Yet, we end up with inconclusive answers despite these many great thinkers. Scholastic self-criticism does not equate to the degradation of the Western academy—the very opposite is true. Such criticisms represent tremendous progress in the humanities, and signal our insistence on adapting to a world where ‘objective facts’ remain more complicated than they appear.

It is indeed the case that academia today faces problems. Perhaps education is becoming too commodified, too factory-like, too simplistic; perhaps classes at an institution like McGill often grow so large, or cover so much ground, that students cannot truly engage anymore. ‘Indoctrination’ is always a risk if people are unable to, or are discouraged from, engaging critically with their source material.

All is open to criticism—and this is certainly true of approaches used in the ‘studies.’ But if Bawer has such criticisms to make of academia, then his arguments must be made convincingly with attention to detail, rather than with mocking condescension and generalizations. Bawer’s broad strokes are a facile way of dismissing methodologies that, perhaps frustratingly, continue to poke so many holes in the ‘objective facts’ of the past. Solutions are to be found only in careful thought, and in the most active critical engagement with today’s and yesterday’s sources, and not in simplistic calls to a romanticized past.

a, Opinion

On Tar Sands exceptionalism and ‘commodity fetishism’

by Ethan Feldman on

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Now that the Students’ Society of McGill University (SSMU) has taken on a mandate to lobby the McGill Administration to divest from Tar Sands, many of us seem to agree—at least, on the topic of ‘goopy bitumen’ from Alberta. Ultimately, I still have a few questions about our priorities.

When we McGillians get so exclusively upset about the Tar Sands, I feel like we are exposing ourselves as ‘bubbled off’ from the rest of the Quebec social movements.

I completely agree that the Tar Sands are an inefficient project that I believe will poison the Indigenous peoples, commit genocide on the animal nations, suck the riches from the land straight into a multinational bank accounts, and so on—but how are any of these qualities unique to the Sands?

Why do the Quebec environmental movements organize around Plan Nord? It’s a project to be developed with $80 billion in government subsidies for international conglomerates. We are entering a period of escalation between Indigenous communities and the State—unseen since the Oka crisis. Some Innu communities who wish to defend their lives and land, and refuse to accept any contract with the corporations, have blockades shut down by militarized police in Northern Quebec. Is it because the communities that signed agreements found out that they were tricked—that they are being given a $1.50 a day in exchange for disrespect of the ecosystem?

It is for every reason cited above, and more.

Our problem is global capitalism, which can be fought in our own backyards as well as across borders. Plan Nord and the Enbridge Line Nine pipeline have gone undetected, and instead we rally along lines drawn in Tar Sands. This is ‘commodity fetishism.’ Somehow, the oil-logged grains have taken on full expressive life as the pure representation of exploitative capitalism, rather than another symptom of a system trapped in a loop of self-annihilation.

It is time to connect our movements because all pipelines leak and all markets peak.

 

Ophelia (Arielle Palik). (Anna Katycheva / McGill Tribune)
a, Arts & Entertainment

Shakespeare’s masterpiece passes on to good hands

by Julia Donahue on

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When Gabrielle Soskin founded Persephone Productions in 2000, she intended for the non-profit theatre company to provide work opportunities for young performers. Hamlet—a story of life and death, love and loss, and the epitome of human suffering—may be deemed a rather demanding play for such a young group, but it flows smoothly and elegantly, with noticeably masterful performances by several cast members.

Christopher Moore flourishes as Hamlet, and eloquently captures the prince’s inner torment with a thoughtful and mature performance. Others, primarily Howard Rosenstein as Claudius, are overshadowed by Moore’s powerful stage presence, appearing somewhat flustered on stage (Rosenstein appeared to forget his lines on multiple occasions). However, even this unintentionally contributes to the play—whereas Claudius fumbles to speak, Hamlet powerfully delivers his lines, emphasizing his confidence as Claudius buckles under the overwhelming guilt of responsibility for his brother’s murder.

Persephone Productions focuses on the spoken content of Shakespeare’s work, and less so on scenery and props. Rather than hinder the performance, this minimalist approach leads to a performance centred on the text.

The setting of the stage is entirely black, with very little ornamentation, drawing the audience’s focus directly to the actors. This bleak and simple setting also allows for discreet colour imagery throughout the play. The most striking of these contrasts occurs during Hamlet’s famous confrontation with Ophelia at the beginning of Act III. As the two meet in centre stage, Ophelia’s beautiful, floral white dress resembles a wedding gown, while Hamlet’s black ensemble seems fit for a funeral. Ophelia’s innocence sharply contrasts with Hamlet’s gloomy countenance, as the audience witnesses this confrontation between innocent hope and stale despair.

Ophelia’s transformation in itself is shocking, as Arielle Palik portrays Ophelia’s downfall into madness in a way that not only highlights her virtuosity as an actress, but strikes the audience as morbidly real. Throughout the play, Palik takes on the air of someone who is not simply acting, but actually living the part. Ophelia’s happiness, despair, love, and heartbreak brings an extra emotional punch to the passionate performance.

Persephone Productions accomplishes a fine performance of Shakespeare’s most famous play, and their interpretation remains a must-see for both avid Hamlet fans as well as those who are less partial to Shakespeare’s works.

Regardless of the category in which you find yourself, take the time to enjoy this masterful performance. I can assure you that this will not be the last time you watch these gifted performers.

Hamlet runs from November 1 to 18 at the Calixa-Lavallée Theatre (3819 Calixa-Lavallée). Student admission is $15.

a, Arts & Entertainment

Think you’ve heard the world? Think again

by Cecilie Jensen on

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Nov. 13 marks the start of the second edition of Mundial Montreal, an annual conference and festival that brings together some of Canada’s finest world music artists.

This year’s festival showcases 33 home-grown and international performers, including Canaille, Heavy Soundz, and Delhi 2 Dublin. In addition, the event this year will feature a World Music Forum, which aims to encourage discussions about the current validity of world music in an age that is increasingly dominated by fusions of traditional genres with electronic sounds. In short, it promises three days of action-packed performances and discussion groups (both free and ticketed), united under the common theme of celebrating and exploring world music as a genre.

Sebastien Nasra, the organizer of Mundial Montreal, emphasizes the festival’s importance as a professional networking platform. It enables world music artists to be introduced to the mass media and the public. With seven years of experience working with world music as a founder of M for Montreal—a music festival taking place concurrently with Mundial Montreal—Nasra is ideally suited to provide a working definition of what world music actually is.

“It’s a very broad question, and everybody has their own answer,” Nasra begins, hesitantly. He elaborates that the main mission of Mundial Montreal is to negotiate what world music is, and how it has evolved since it was first introduced some three decades ago.

It was in the 1980s that people largely began recognizing traditional music cultures normally associated with the indigenous peoples of Africa, Asia, and Europe. Since then, however, the term ‘world music’ has evolved considerably. Nasra points to the Quebecois pop-electro musician Pierre Lapointe as an example of how broad and malleable the categorical label ‘world music’ has become.

“The funny thing is, for someone in New York, Pierre Lapointe is ‘world music’ because he sings in French,” Nasra says. “It’s not always just about the music sound, but the origins of the music or the artist, and the perception of him or her in another market, in another place, with other eyes.”

Nasra’s words were still fresh in my mind when I spoke with Tarun Nayar from the Vancouver-based band Delhi 2 Dublin. The group’s five members boast an exotic mix of Indian, Irish, Scottish, and Korean origins. Their individual musical influences are largely reflected in their electro-infused melange of Bhangra, Reggae, Rock, and Celtic sounds.

I asked Nayar for his thoughts on world music as a genre, and how he sees Delhi 2 Dublin’s place in its context.

“If people want to call us world music, that’s fine, we call ourselves global mash-up or party music,” says Nayar. “A lot of world music traditionally has been authentic music from Africa or authentic music from Ireland, and we’re not authentic, we’re not trying to do anything traditional at all­—we’re just doing whatever we want and having fun.”

It’s clear that world music, as a way to categorize artists, certainly remains up for negotiation. Whether you’re a hardcore world music fan longing to seize the unique opportunity Mundial Montreal offers, or just want to party to Delhi 2 Dublin’s “global mash-up,” Mundial Montreal offers plenty of events to satiate your musical appetite.

Mundial Montreal runs from Nov. 13 to Nov. 16. Tickets and showtime information is available at http://www.mundialmontreal.com/en/ 

Untitled (1972). (Antoni Tàpies / Courtesy of Montreal Museum of Fine Arts)
a, Arts & Entertainment

Defecation, death, detritus: a Catalan artist at work

by Joanna Schacter on

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In February of this year, modern art lost an important figure. Of the hundreds of paintings, drawings, and prints left behind after Antoni Tàpies’ demise, more than 80 have been acquired by Montreal’s Museum of Fine Arts due to the generosity of several donors. In Memoriam: Thirty-Three Prints and a Drawing by the Catalan Master will commemorate this prodigy’s “originality, richness, and depth.”

Essentially self-taught, Tàpies abandoned his legal studies in Barcelona to pursue art. Since 1945, he worked prolifically to create an unparalleled opus that would soon mark him as the leading artistic figure in post-war Spain. Working under Franco’s regime, a tumultuous  period of brutal and bloody civil war and subsequent iron-fisted totalitarianism, Tàpies deals unapologetically with the unpleasant. Defecation, death, detritus: the dirty and dark are not off-limits here, as the artist willingly shares.

Expect the exhibition to reflect Tàpies’ uniqueness and unconventionality. His lifelong exploration and experimentation with media characterized his work and led to his association with Art Informel, a movement that was centred on the expressive nature of materials and the creational process. Tàpies made exquisite use of some unorthodox approaches: embossing, collage, tearing, folding, cutting, impasto, and graffiti are all put to use. He also incorporates found objects, stones, earth, and footprints, similar to how Jackson Pollock would scatter  items from his pockets over his paintings and walk through them. Tàpies’ colour-blocking technique calls to mind the work of Rothko, who first used this method; his inclusion of writing, fine lines, shape, and striking contrasts recall Russian Suprematism, and other works by Malevich and Kandisky, though his paintings and multimedia have nothing in common with these figures. Tàpies’ style invokes  avant-garde techniques that marked the 20th century and were pioneered by his most famous predecessors, but remains very much his own.

Discounting his fame and numerous awards, why care about this deceased, left-of-field artist? Having inherited the world of Picasso and Miró, Spanish artists of the mid-20th century were left with very large shoes to fill. Tàpies did much more than just fill them; he left behind a legacy of his own. Tàpies’ contribution to painting and printmaking is momentous, and the idea that his work was influenced by the philosophy and writings of Jean-Paul Sartre is nothing short of intriguing. History, modernity, aesthetic beauty, and introspective thought converge in the artist’s works. Nothing is off limits, neither in theme nor media—creation and controversy are at the heart of this exhibit.

In Memoriam: Thirty-Three Prints and a Drawing by the Catalan Master is on display at the MMFA’s Graphic Arts Centre and runs until December 9, 2012. Free admission.

Inlet Sound embodies youth and its hard knocks. (www.divanorange.org)
a, Arts & Entertainment

Inlet Sound: folky, reflective, and romantics at heart

by Jacqui Galbraith on

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Listening to The Romantics reminds me of hanging out with an old friend. The kind you can go months without seeing, but fall back into familiar rhythm in no time at all; the kind with whom you can tear up the town, or just sit on your bed, and have a great time either way.

The debut LP from Canada’s own Inlet Sound offers a rare mix of energy, quiet emotion, and sheer entertainment which eludes many albums. Catchy, upbeat songs, like “Magnetic North” and “Mademoiselle”—with plenty of references to lead singer and guitarist Michael Wexler’s hometown, Montreal—pull listeners in, while slower numbers like “Mail Order” or “Amber Skies” leave them feeling relaxed, if slightly reflective.

Inlet Sound first formed three years ago when Wexler met keyboardist Sean Hardy, living in a student house in Hamilton, Ontario. From there, the band has experienced some turnover, ultimately adding Steven Gore (violin, mandolin), Curtis Murphy (bass), and Katie MacLean (drums, vocals) to the lineup. The group draws from diverse musical influences, including ‘70s folk revival, blues, and electronic. This diversity led to the adoption of the group’s unique name.

“Because we come from fairly different musical backgrounds, we wanted something twofold,” says Wexler. “One, an homage to Canadiana a little bit, because there is still that folky element to us. And second-fold, we wanted to have a name that was reflective of convergence … and the image of an inlet or a sound—our name is kind of redundant in a sense, because an inlet and a sound are the same thing—was that visual imagery of things coming together.”

The name of the album, too, hints at their attitude towards music.

“Sean … threw it out there: ‘Why don’t we call it The Romantics?’” recalls Wexler. “It just seemed to be a perfect marker for all the … concepts of the idealization of youth, and romanticism and impending cynicism and all these things that come with growing up.… It just seemed like a nice umbrella for what we were going for, plus it’s very grand-sounding, and that’s what we wanted to go for also.”

With comparisons being drawn to big names such as The Decemberists, Death Cab for Cutie, and Mumford and Sons, Inlet Sound certainly delivers. Wexler cites working with Canadian producer Laurence Currie (Sloan, Hey Rosetta!, Wintersleep) as a big reason for the recording process having gone as well as it did.

“It’s just a lot of fun to be around [Currie]. And I think another good thing from a creative standpoint is … [to] allow other ideas to come flow together and make it a little more of a collaborative effort … that was a really rewarding experience,” says Wexler.

However, what challenged Wexler the most was not knowing how, exactly, the project would turn out when all was said and done.

“Because [the recording process] was such a long stretch of time … we didn’t want to lose the idea that gave [the album] push from the beginning,” he admits. “It was kind of hard in the sense that … we had to see it change, and I guess that was the hardest thing, because we lose control a little bit; and I think I’m a bit of control freak sometimes, so to not really know how it was gonna change was both exciting and terrifying at the same time.”

The Romantics is very much a mix of the old and new, reworked Inlet Sound classics matched with completely new tracks written to fit the album’s grand, emotional, coming-of-age theme.

“We had about three or four songs on the album that were old songs that we totally revisited, and then there were a whole bunch of other ones that were totally new … based on the concept that we had for this record and what we were going through,” says Wexler. “There are specific tracks on this record, like “Romantics I” and “[Romantics] II”, [that] come from a similar place and a similar concept both musically and emotionally. They’re supposed to be the thesis and antithesis to each other.”

For a band at the outset of their career, Inlet Sound are anything but amateur. As for the future, Wexler keeps it simple.

“Growth in terms of being able to write and create different type of stuff,” says Wexler regarding the band’s future plans. “Growth in terms of being able to play to new audiences and new places, bigger audiences.… Just to be able to keep loving what we’re doing—because if you don’t love it any more, then it just doesn’t seem worth it; and right now we’re loving it.”

Inlet Sound plays at Divan Orange on Nov. 18 with Pugs and Crows. Doors open at 9 p.m. Admissions are $10.

a, Arts & Entertainment, Music

Kendrick Lamar: Good Kid m.A.A.d City

by Nazim Elnur on

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Walking the line between mainstream and underground, Kendrick Lamar proudly raises the torch he was passed from West Coast legends Dr. Dre and Snoop Dogg. Lamar, also a devoted fan of 2pac, brings these legendary influences together in a novel way in his latest release, Good Kid m.A.A.d. City.

Although several tracks can easily pass for commercial fare, they are not your typical rap project. Good Kid m.A.A.d. City is not for light listeners—it’s more of a concept album by nature. The story starts with Lamar’s adolescent sexual experience in his mother’s car, parked in the streets of L.A.’s Compton. From there, Lamar ties in strings of narrative birthed out of Compton’s streets, akin to 2pac’s “Rose That Grew From The Concrete.”

“Backseat Freestyle” is a flaunting of lyrical skill, with Lamar waxing poetics over a mix of bubblegum topics. The young rapper shows that he can be light-hearted too, but make no mistake about the socio-political exposé he crafts throughout this album. “Good Kid” and “m.A.A.d City,” featuring legendary artist MC Eiht, describe the city of Compton’s dual nature. In the former, Lamar analyzes the constant presence of gangs, the ‘wolves in the jungle,’ and in the latter, he paints the canvas of Compton and raps the ballad of ‘Kendrick AKA Compton’s human sacrifice.’ The track “Poetic Justice” also features Canada’s own Drake, providing his usual verse of seduction, with Lamar effortlessly sounding in. All these elements tie together in Lamar’s own story of Compton: the violence, the gangs, the girls, and the visions of celebrity.

Good Kid m.A.A.d. City, in the words of veteran rap artist Ghostface Killah, is a “game changer,” by someone who typifies the “pinnacle of [their] breed.”  I echo this opinion. If you are not a fan of hip-hop, pay attention—Kendrick Lamar is planning to change your mind.

a, Arts & Entertainment, Music

Trash Talk: 119

by Hannah Feinberg on

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With 119, Trash Talk is at a pivotal point in their career, and somewhat of a paradox. The band have reached the top of the pile as far as Hardcore goes, teetering between too much fame to stay underground and just enough notoriety to spread the word.  They’re constantly stirring up controversy, all the while preserving tradition, to the point that their act is practically canned.  Trash Talk have mainstream clout, but Lee Spielman’s screamed vocals make it loud and clear that he isn’t looking to welcome the uninitiated into the club.

After signing to Odd Future’s record label (Trash Talk have contributed to some Odd Future tracks in the past), they’ve become an apt symbol of Internet-age fame. Now, the importance of having an ‘in’ with punk hero Keith Morris and being tied to a group of skate-rats with meme status are of comparable importance. On 119, Trash Talk manages to live up to both legacies: that of the original DIY rebels, and their tumblr-bred offspring.

“Exile on Broadway” is a blitzkrieg manifesto, decrying city filth with thrown-to-the-gutter gusto. “Blossom and Burn,” featuring Hodgy and Tyler of Odd Future, is a slow-burning, gut-churning haunter, with gruesome rhetoric to match its haunted house arrangement. “Uncivil Disobedience” and its call to occupy, as well as songs like “For the Lesser Good,” reinterpret Punk’s ‘burn-it-down’ battle cry while including the addendum ‘build-it-up.’ Punk may be dead, but if Trash Talk has any say in it, Hardcore will stay alive and kickin’.

a, Arts & Entertainment, Music

Jason Lytle: Dept. of Disappearance

by Joanna Schacter on

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“I’ll crawl into the mountains, I’ll fall into obscurity/A phantom on the landscape, a memory of what used to be.” Nostalgia and longing—the voice and lyrics of Jason Lytle can’t be described without invoking these two sentiments.

Dept. of Disappearance, his latest album, is full of unknown ‘somewheres’ and ‘someones,’ finality and setting suns, disappearances and memories. The singer-songwriter earns his album title with emotive lyricism, and a sound that grasps at the listener.

The release begins with simple progressions and soft, yet assertive, breathy tones. While one could make the case that if you’ve heard the first song, you’ve heard the album, each one is arguably a distinct experience: Lytle’s strength is in his words and the sensations that they carry. Written, performed, recorded, and engineered by the artist, this album is distinctly his, and is rife with honest confessions and private musings that listeners feel fortunate to be privy to.

“Poetry set to music,” is perhaps a worn cliché to describe such eloquence, but remains an accurate one. Here is music to lie awake to; here are words to repeat in your head and mull over, images to linger upon. The ever-present undertones of nostalgia and longing instill a sense of incompleteness in the listener. Though strangely satisfying, there isn’t a single song here that will leave you without an anxious, aching, itching desire for more.

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