Last Thursday, March 29, a motion was submitted to SSMU council proposing to censure SSMU’s VP External, Joël Pedneault.  The motion, moved by nine council members, only narrowly failed to pass, with  a vote of 11 for, 11 against, and one abstention.

The Tribune believes the nine movers of the motion were unwise to use the tactic of censure as a means to discipline Pedneault. A motion to censure does not exactly help to create a stable atmosphere at SSMU, and such a close result will be very unhelpful in assuaging the increasingly prevalent political polarization on campus. Had the motion passed, it would surely have had a negative effect on student politics. A censure ofPedneault would have  caused resentment from many students who believe he is doing his best to represent their interests, and would have placed a great strain on the rest of the SSMU executives.

Had such negative politics not happened before, a motion for  censure might have been moreforgiveable. However, a similar motion was brought forth just last year, and to disastrous effect. The motion to impeach former SSMU President Zach Newburgh­—regardless of the motion’s legitimacy—induced an atmosphere lacking in co-operation among the executives for the remainder of the year. [Editor’s note: Zach Newburgh sits on the TPS Board of Directors.] The movers of the censure motion therefore failed to learn from past mistakes.

In addition, the motion itself was grounded on some dubious foundations. Some reasons may have been based on understandable concerns, but the use of a censure is a disproportionate and overtly public reaction to something that could have stayed more low key and constructive. Certainly, the Tribune agrees with the motion’s movers that Pedneault’s decision to allow members of the Coalition Large de l’Associationpour la Solidarité Syndicale étudiante (CLASSE), the organisation behind the Quebec-wide student strike, after-hours access to the SSMU office was an inappropriate use of the VP External’s authority. We hold this view because of the fact that SSMU is neither a member of CLASSE nor on strike, and such perks should be reserved for McGill students and organizations.

Yet some reasons were not fair and not accurate. A motion to censure is a means to sort out a constitutional technicality, a punitive measure to deal with  members of the SSMU executive inexcusably overstepping their mandate. Indeed,criticising Pedneault’s participation in the strike and his active involvement on the picket lines of other universities in Montreal is misguided. Considering the other Montreal universities are currently on strike, where else is a VP External, McGill’s liason officer with other Quebec universities, supposed to liase  with our fellow Quebec students—something that constitutes an essential part of his mandate—other than on the picket lines? Moreover, the movers are not respecting Pednault’s right as an individual to participate in the Quebec-wide student strike. As a student representative for McGill, it does make it more difficult for him to do this, but it is not incompatible for him to represent McGill interests during his day job, and his own when he is not on the clock.

Furthermore, the movers were unfair to cite the administration’s exclusion of Pedneault from the university campus for five days as a reason for censure. Surely the exclusion  is a punishment in itself. The motion is merely seeking to punishPedneault for getting punished.

One co-author claimed that the she was satisfied with the result because the aim was partly to voice concerns. Using the possibility of punishment of a VP to facilitate a discussion is inappropriate. We would not be surprised if future executives failed to fulfill their mandates for fear that any misstep—which should be addressed privately first—may result in a censure.

Therefore the Tribune believes that the motion to censure Pedneault was not well thought out, and was an excessively inflammatory means to sort out a problem that could have been far better solved through persuasive discretion. Had a more discrete means already been repeatedly tried to no avail, it would have been a different story, but it was also up to the motion’s movers to make this clear. As they did not, they come across as going against Pedneault  for reasons of complaints with ideology rather than the more just reason for motions, that of a technical complaint.

Canadian identity has always been elusive; like a tentative adolescent, Canada seems unable to definitively grasp a self-image that resonates. But Canada, I sympathize. At only 21, I am more than familiar with that wrenching internal tension, swinging between the desire to conform while desperately seeking my own niche.

Luckily for me, however, I had the opportunity to step away from all of those stresses that make finding an identity so difficult. Pressure to succeed in school and choose a career path, family expectations, and the suffocating high school reputation all washed away when I stepped onto the airplane to embark on my journey withKatimavik.

Let me digress for a moment to clarify. ‘Katimavik’has been a bit of a buzzword in Canadian media these past few days. Axed on March 29 by the federal budget, there has been a small whirlwind of online petitions, commentary, and tweets opposing the federal government’s move.Katimavik is a federally-funded program aimed at promoting civic engagement in youth, ages 17-21. Each Katimavik group is composed of 11 youths from across the country, representing the geographic, socio-economic and ethnic diversity of Canadians. For six months, these young Canadians live and volunteer together at a variety of community development projects across the country. The federal government cut the program, citing its new austerity measures and “excessive per-person costs.”

It has been almost two years since I completedKatimavik, and I still am still reaping the benefits of the program. In the few months I spent inKatimavik, I worked at an animal shelter, volunteered at a seniors home, helped co-ordinate other volunteers at a youth community center, and participated in a literacy program at a francophoneelementary school. Beyond the actual volunteer placements, I got an education unlike any academic institution could offer. From the mundane—learning to balance a household budget—to the exceptional—managing ethnically charged inter-personal conflicts—I grew more as an individual in the few months I spent inKatimavik than in my entire high school career. Perhaps most significantly, through Katimavik, I met other Canadians whose tireless work to better their community, contagious optimism, and unconditional generosity have left an indelible impression on me, and have fundamentally shaped who I am and who I aspire to be.

Despite the success of my particular experience, and the bitterness I feel knowing that other young Canadians will not have such an incredible opportunity, this isn’t just about Katimavik. This isn’t even just about the annual budget or adversarial, partisan politics. Canada is at a pivotal moment in deciding how it wants to be perceived both internationally and by its own citizens. Beyond political rhetoric or token symbols, true Canadian values are reflected in the policies we choose. Over Katimavik’s 30-plus years of operation we have seen the tens of thousands of youth travel the country, contribute to local community development, and take the time to reflect on their values to make an informed choice about who they want to be and how they want to contribute. Canada is on the cusp of the same decision, and we need to collectively choose what kind of country we want to build. If Canadians agree that Katimavik no longer has a place in our society, I can abide by that choice. But we need to be aware that the recent decisions made by our federal government reflect more than just mundane number crunching; these are the decisions that inform who we are as Canadians. The time for tentative adolescence is past.

–Alex Neville