RSA Animates David Harvey Lecture

As soon as this post entered my twitter-stream, I re-tweeted it; however, I wanted to ensure no one missed it, so have posted it here. The Royal Society for the Encouragement of Arts, Manufacturers and Commerce animates David Harvey's sagacious words:



Update: Kurt Vonnegut in his final speech had quite a lot to say about Marx:

I might as well clinch my reputation as a world-class nutcase by saying something good about Karl Marx, commonly believed in this country, and surely in Indian-no-place [Indianapolis], to have been one of the most evil people who ever lived.

He did invent Communism, which we have long been taught to hate, because we are so in love with Capitalism, which is what we call the casinos on Wall Street.

Communism is what Karl Marx hoped could be an economic scheme for making industrialized nations take good care of people, and especially of children and the old and disabled, as tribes and extended families used to do, before they were dispersed by the Industrial Revolution (Vonnegut, K. 2008. Armageddon in Retrospect, p. 23).

World Cup Fever - Final Impressions, A Canadian's View

At the beginning of every World Cup game I'm struck by the colonial influence on each nation's anthem. Western instruments, chorus lines, and structure predominate. There's no rumba, salsa, or cross-rhythm, and that's such a shame, given the diversity among each nation's fans and players. Fortunately, the music at taxi stands, airports, and fan parks weren't restricted to western notions, and, of course, the vuvuzellas made stadiums their own.

I took quite a few bus-taxis and buses to get around from my remote abode. Although people on the bus-taxis were quite friendly, especially when I repeatedly asked Illovo? or some other destination, people on the bus ignored me. I discussed this behaviour with a white South African after, and she attributed it to the fact that a white person on such buses is a rarity, never mind one with an accent. By the way, from what I've gathered South Africans refer to each other as black, white, or coloured (any ethnic mix other than the former two). I struggled with this terminology due to my North American sensibilities, but soon tired of unnecessarily tip-toeing around.

Another sensibility that I lost pretty quickly was pedestrian right-of-way. Drivers gave me courteous beeps, but such notions can be dangerous (I had a few close calls in my jet-lagged stupor). Like Europe, standard transmission dominates the market, so drivers are quite skilled, but the numerous construction projects made navigation difficult. I still can't get over the lack of seat-belt laws. I desperately wanted to fasten a belt around the new-born in the front seat. Although I wanted to stay and try to get tickets for the Brazil/Portugal, which turned out to be rather flat, the time had come for me to go. I made it to Sandton (an up-scale suburb into which a number of downtown businesses fled when the fence came down) and then to the GauTrain.

The train was filled with residents excited by the prospect of travelling at high-speed. They marvelled at the new smell and efficiency, and some claimed superiority to London's tube (not a fair comparison). I was buoyed by their enthusiasm. The driver came on the intercom, introduced herself, and announced we were travelling at 160 km/h. I was one of the few to leave the train; I picked up some last minute souvenirs and made for my gate. I flew Etihad to Abu Dhabi once more. There were many empty seats so I quickly grabbed a middle row, so I could stretch out later. The meal included a chicken tandoori breast and three bean salad and a choice of chicken tikka, grilled hake or penne in cream sauce. Then I slept. No movies needed on this leg. No World Cup on a single TV in the airport. What's with this place?

After a drowsy day in Frankfurt I boarded a Swiss Air flight to Zurich. The stewardess had a topless picture of Drogba on her serving station and defended her choice, stating that he was her motivation. Swiss chocolate and a great Duty Free catalogue made their low take-off-and-landing priority bearable. I then flew Swiss Air to Montreal. The service, chocolate, and Movenpick ice cream was excellent, but the entertainment system ran on a rotation so you couldn't watch what you wanted when you wanted. The kicker, however, came when I boarded an Air Canada plane and paid $7 for a stale wrap.

Canada really needs to welcome its citizens. Rather than calculating potential tax revenue, citizens shouldn't have to fill out forms or stand in a general line. Where's the Canadian Passports line? It's as rare as a default choice of "Canada" on a Canadian website form. Anyway, I'm back; nearly over 29 hours in the air and nearly acclimatized to Victoria's poky drivers.

World Cup Fever - Argentina Game, A Canadian's View

For the game, Argentina vs. South Korea, I had incredible seats very close to the field and not far from the goal. I saw three of the five cumulative goals. Messi appears even faster in person than on TV. It's too bad he didn't score, but his goal setup was invaluable. The crowd roared most, even overcoming the vuvuzellas's drone, when Maradona tapped the ball.

The only drawback was the belligerent Americans behind me; however, one benefit of their loudness was their attempt to start a wave. We nearly got one going and had lots of fun. Canadians were there, too; one wore a huge maple-leaf hat and the others were grad students who asked me to fill out a very long survey on the World Cup. They got half their way paid for. Not a bad way to go. I was surprised to find out that the attendance was a few thousand lower than the Holland game.

The park and ride bus service was excellent and got back with enough time to watch the end of the Nigeria game. It's very unfortunate that Nigeria lost on home soil, so to speak. Chris, a Ugandan staying at the same place as I, noted that he's been disappointed with Nigeria since the 90's. After the game I experienced my first brownout, but the power came back in time to watch the Mexico game and power my microwave dinner. One benefit of the darkness was seeing the Southern Cross without artificial light obscuring it. Very beautiful!

As I'm writing this, the patrons of this internet cafe are watching WWE. Western culture's everywhere.

World Cup Fever - Johannesburg Impressions, A Canadian's View

Whenever I travel outside of North America I'm astonished by the grip of western culture. Johannesburg is no exception; a mall culture is particularly strong here. Malls host all the parties and have all the big screens and FIFA centers. They seem to be “the place to go”, much more so even than in North America. Thankfully, there's little evidence of big box stores although the city is car-centered and lacks efficient public transit. Nevertheless, this role's been filled by shuttle taxis which, although intimidating to visitors, seem quite effective. I was surprised at the lack of seatbelt use especially in the case of infants who rest on their mothers' laps in the front seat. There are some traces of the colonial past, the architecture and rusks appearing on aisle markers in grocery stores. Despite all this evidence of western culture many things set this city apart.

• Some malls contain flea markets. Only a few are heated.

• Entertaining store names and slogans:

Pick n Pay (As opposed to Pick n Run?) Their by-line, “Inspired by you,” has little to do with their brand.

Mr. Delivery for pizza.

Clicks Pharmacy: Clicks Clubcard. Saving is the point.

• Fences. Electric, concrete, and steel. Every structure is well fortified. Perhaps the most striking example is the university whose fortifications seem to contravene tenants of higher learning, such as openness and right to protest.
• BP appears to be doing quite well and has been running ads promoting their non-Fair Trade coffee.
• No headphones on people. People spend time at bus stops in conversation.
• Noises, of so many kinds, fill the air. Drivers toot horns to alert pedestrians who have no right of way here. Vuvuzellas fill the air, especially when South Africa is playing, then they begin at dawn and last until dusk.

People here are very friendly and most are quite excited to meet a Canadian. They ask many questions about Canada. Some, assuming I'm a white local have even asked me for directions. I've spent the most time speaking with Victor, the caretaker and my host, Alima. Victor is from Malawi and is working here to support his family back home. He's hoping to start an IT business here or a kindergarten back in Malawi. If anyone knows of some free school supplies, let me know.

Alima is fiery, passionate, and very kind. She addresses every black South African as brother or sister. They have a really cool culture which blinds the visitor to all the uncompleted projects, delays, bus strikes, leaky taps and lack of recycling.

A note on security: Although security is a major concern here, I've not felt threatened once. (I walk or taxi everywhere.) I have, however, felt a certain fear in the air, heard conversations about car-jacking, and seen reports of home invasions. This is enough to restrict my travel at night to well-worn routes.

World Cup Fever - FIFA Critique, A Canadian's View

At first glance the FIFA ticketing process seemed quite robust. I entered my choices in the first round of the lottery, was billed a few months later, and received an email notifying me that I'd purchased tickets a month or so after that. The trouble began when I tried to determine what matches I was seeing, in order to arrange all the necessary travel arrangements. My FIFA on-line account contained no information about the tickets I'd purchased. All that was there were FIFA bingo and fantasy football. No comparison to the VANOC site, which I'd used a few months before. I was informed that I'd receive a ticket confirmation in the mail by May 1st, which was extended to the middle of May. I emailed and got no response, I phoned and never got an agent. Eventually, I did receive the confirmation and was very pleased with my tickets, but the process was very stressful.

Note: After talking to a number of fans, some shared my experience, and it appeared to be restricted to the first two rounds of ticket sales.

Upon arrival at 5:00 am I learned that the automatic booths at the airport (a major ticket collection location) were closed outside of business hours. Imagine if ABMs were closed outside of a bank's hours. What's the point? Then there was the run-around I received prior to my first match. Only one private security guard knew where to pick up tickets. He told me that fans were in tears at the opening game, believing that they wouldn't be able to enter the stadium.

The name and passport number that I'd entered for me and a guest was not checked; furthermore, all the tickets had only my name on it. So much for all the rules on security and application forms to trade or sell tickets. FIFA created a convoluted system, required people to adhere to it and then abandoned it.

Once inside the arena everything ran smoothly and there was a surplus of information volunteers. The match was an incredible experience, but FIFA has to do much better in this modern age. Maybe that day will come when some form of television replay gets incorporated into the officiating.

I am surprised that empty seats have been shown on TV. Apparently in 2002 buses went into the Asian countryside to get spectators to fill seats. The only deception here was the 1,000 or so Chinese actors at the North Korean game.

On a separate note, SABC provides local commentary for all the African nation matches, which provides a different take on the game that I quite enjoy.

World Cup Fever - The Holland Game, A Canadian's View

I'm sitting here in a South African house huddled around a space-heater while the weather forecaster states that it will go down to minus 3 tonight and that snow has fallen in some parts of the country. I notice that the forecaster uses clucks in her speech and that the kids in a snowball fight behind her must be a rare sight. Two days ago, I was in the same seat when Daf, attired in a bright orange suit, came through the front door with Marcel on his heels. These were the house-guests I was expecting, but had no idea they would be Dutch fans. I was there to support Holland, so was quite happy. The orange clad Blues Brothers set to decorating a house that had only sported a few South Africa flags.

The next morning everyone was quite excited about the game and dressed in their finest orange. Daf was kind enough to give me a cool hat with red, white, and blue dinosaur spines across the top. Chantal, Daf's girlfriend had arrived in the night and soon some other fans showed up. We got a ride to the stadium in threes. About 2km from the stadium we got out of the car to walk due to the congestion. Every three cars we passed cheered, clapped or honked. As the enormous calabash stadium drew near people started to ask if they could get their picture taken with Marcel and Daf, and sometimes all of us.

Then began an extremely frustrating time of tracking down my tickets. Volunteers were either uninformed or misinformed; furthermore they were too few in number. We finally found someone who knew where we needed to go and escorted us there. We entered the stadium to find the Dutch party. Holland supporters usually party in a city square before the game and then follow a double-decker bus to the stadium, but here, likely due to the remote location of the stadium and security concerns, the party was inside the stadium. We sang songs, danced, drank, chanted, and cheered. Marcel and Daf gave a number of interviews, and I gave one. I was assured by the reporter that it would appear here.

My seats were pretty good and the vuvuzelas not nearly as loud as I'd thought they'd be (I still wore earplugs). All around me were jubilant when the Netherlands' side scored a goal rather than winning by an own-goal. Many after were not too impressed by the Dutch side, but everyone concluded that it's better to start a little slower than come out blazing and lose to the likes of Russia and Portugal. Robbyn's appearance when they need him should also add a huge flame to the fire. Hup Holland Hup.

World Cup Fever, A Canadian's View

My trip began in a dull dreary Vancouver. Calgary was even wetter during the six hour transit, so wet that the roofs were leaking. Buckets marked by placards collected the drops. Frankfurt was very warm 29, by comparison and muggy. After a day there I boarded a plane for Abu Dhabi. I had an emergency exit seat, which soon became vibrant with conversation. I talked with the two German guys on either side and the Slovakian stewardess in front.

When the plane landed one German and I sought out a screen to see the highlights of the first World Cup game. We could find none. They had TVs, but they showed volleyball and car racing. No soccer to be had. I asked an information steward and he mistook my request of “football” as “food court”. Not impressed, especially because the stewardess had told me of how many fans have been funnelling through the airport.

I'd rank the airports as follows (1=little effort; 2=some effort; 3=noticeable effort; and so on) Vancouver as a 3, Calgary a 2, Frankfurt a 3, and Abu Dhabi as a 1. Johannesburg, of course, was filled with welcome posters, red carpets for players, but what really set it apart was the multi-clad fans and horns, drums and chants.

The environment in Jo'burg airport is quite playful with announcers proclaiming that smokers violating the non-smoking policy will be banned from football games. On the last leg I got my first run in with England fans. My neighbour took up much more space than his small body would seem to be possible. He preempted the flight attendants' questions, slurring out “Lager” and “Bir”. I re pronounced his request and he got his beer. He must have had a prostrate condition, and if he does I have sympathy for him, because he went to the bathroom twice for every beer he consumed. Quite a different experience than the last flight.

What I learned at the Vancouver Olympics.

After a number of sun-filled glorious days at the Olympic games I thought I’d summarize my experience. Sorry about the lack of tweets but Internet wasn’t that accessible where I was staying.

1. The crowd in Vancouver is awesome. Far from an unruly mob the crowd propelled and energized athletes and made mundane tasks, such as queueing, fun. Without a doubt the most powerful crowd was that at the Canada-US hockey game on Sunday. Only high-fives and embraces tempered the ear-splitting roar. Personally, I was at my best when some American fans in the next section started chanting, “U-S-A.” I promptly responded with my loudest “GoCanadaGo” rousing those around me to drown them out. Despite the loss it was the best hockey game I’ve ever been to, mostly due to the crowd.









2. Translink stepped up to provide fast-efficient service. (Despite my reservations surrounding Translink’s paving of the Whistler rail line and media reports of long waits.)


3. Events were were on-time, exciting, and well organized. The awesome volunteers and entertainers dimmed inconveniences such as security waits and the bottleneck at the pedestrian walkway into Canada Hockey Place.


4. The pavilions were neither well-organized nor on-time, but exciting for the most part (Ontario’s 4–D movie and First Nations Pavilion’s daily sampler platter were my favourites). The largest lacuna was in web presence (the official site has no map and speaks in terms of the facilities “upon completion will have … .”) The best information on the web, though not easy to come by via Google (a lady in line showed me a print out), is at CityCaucus. Furthermore, no comprehensive schedule of entertainment seems to exist.


5. Vancouver rocks when it’s sunny.


6. The Olympics are magical; at least, they contain many magical moments. The most captivating for me (and my family) happened watching Virtue and Moir’s final skate. We had watched them live during the compulsory skate at the PNE, so we were quite enthused about the sport. Then we started watching the final round on TV, but had to leave part-way to catch the ferry. We got to Tsawwassen as fast as we could and ran into the terminal in search of a TV. We found a small (but vigorous) crowd huddled around the sole TV. Everyone clapped, cheered, and (some) cried, while our collective anticipation over the performance and score was quickened by the imminent message that boarding would ensue. Community. Magic. The Games.

Equality?2

Shortly after writing my post on (in)equality I came across this video:



Isabel Allende, here at a TED talk, tells an impassioned and stirring tale of inequality. If you don't have 18 minutes, skip the first 7 minutes in which she sets up the story with anecdotes (entertaining ones). Here's some of her most alarming and insightful statements:

Even the most destitute of men have someone they can abuse, a woman or a child.

It is a fact that giving women education, work, the ability to control their own income, inherit and own property benefits the society. If a woman is empowered her children and family will be better off. If families prosper the village prospers and eventually so does the whole country.

Equality?

I recall being far too young to comprehend the horror that had unfolded at l'École Polytechnique de Montréal. December 6, 1989 was no ordinary Sinterklaas holiday—14 women were slain, just for being women. Such a calamity evoked an appropriate response: outrage. In 1991, Parliament established December 6^th as the National Day of Remembrance and Action on Violence Against Women. Candlelight vigils publicize the issue and help ease the pain, but the spectre of violence against women continues to rise like an insurmountable peak. This, despite awesome projects, organizations, laws, and rights.

What stymies it all seems to be escape clauses, e.g., female ski jumpers cannot compete in the 2010 Olympics and embedded attitudes, e.g., The Daily Telegraph. Acquaintance rape suggests primitive exertion of power as the cause, which in a worst case scenario presents like this. Of course, greed’s a prime suspect, and human trafficking results in modern-day slavery.

At a basic level women represent social stability; thus, public rape inspires terror when conventional means such as assassinations only numb the populace. Such horrors frequently are so horrific that their full extent takes decades to be revealed.

Perhaps the world needs more Carol Rosenbergs (she belittled a U.S. naval commander) but I doubt it, no matter how refreshing; however, the world does need more Malalai Joyas, a secret teacher during the Taliban’s reign, an MP, and activist. Henry Maudsley, a nineteenth century psychiatrist, stated, “The sorrow which has no vent in tears may make other organs weep.” Perhaps we need a good cry, or some method of catharsis (Lepine blamed an abusive father). Yes, and more: Susan Fiske’s latest research examines the source of stereotypes. She found that sexualized images of women shut down the part of the male brain associated with empathy. Eugene Caruso and Kerry Kawakami also examine implicit bias in their research.

In addition to greater insight, people need to openly discuss this issue rather than bury victims in shame. Countries, such as Somalia and Afghanistan, receive much coverage for their oppression of women, but Canada’s staggering rape statistics (half-way down the page) escape scrutiny, a black eye for our “progressive” society. Although no simple solutions exist, saying, “Hi,” holding a candle high, and discussing the issue (more than once a year) will banish stigma.

Shine Wearing Thin?

Obama’s impact remains difficult to quantify and depends largely on the method of evaluation: Do you take into account the scale and multiplicity of the tasks? or Do you just tally failures and successes? What is certain is that his speeches, which rouse such deep emotions, lose more credibility with each failure, since failures include both failed accomplishments and the failure to adhere to ideals outlined in his speeches. Obama has gained some ground in his reform of health-care, although the bill may not be recognizable when (if) it exits the Senate. The impact of the bill, however, may best be measured by the response it has generated. Although the attacks on countries with universal health-care are quite humorous (see Rachlis’s response in the LA Times), more sinister responses are strapping on 9mm pistols and portraying Obama as Hitler (I personally think Bush better suited this guise.)

Obama’s decision to set targets for and attend the Copenhagen Climate Summit (sadly, something no Canadian will be able to assert) was a sharp departure from Bush’s archaic stance and an admirable accomplishment. Nevertheless, it seems that no matter what Obama accomplishes it won’t count for much without some progress in the Middle East, e.g., Scheer notes, “On the anniversary of the fall of the Berlin Wall, it’s worthwhile to remember that ending a stupid, harmful war is the most admirable thing a great leader can do.” With each passing day Obama seems to depart further from such a result: his (and most of congress’s) failure to endorse the Goldstone report implies that Israel is above the law.

Guantanamo, the flagship of panic-induced decisions by a religious tract administration, has blipped on and off the radar: it will be shut down, it’s closure won’t be funded, and it will be made more humane. Obama has taken flack for such uncertainty, and justifiably so: You can’t change a beast made specifically to bypass international law, conventions and human rights legislation.

Now Obama detractors are growing by the dozen. Early detractors gathered at Hopium: Confronting Fascism in the Obama era and some have taken drastic measures, such as challenging Obama’s U.S. citizenship. Nevertheless, before you condemn him too harshly forget that he doesn’t use twitter and recall that

Under Bush, the attempt to turn the office of the president into a branch of corporate America — complete with boardroom incompetence, a culture of collective fear and the sludge of muddy thinking — dictated that company etiquette should prevail. Dan Glaister, The Guardian. February 6, 2009.

Re-invention

Days usually pass between blog posts, but seasons have of late. Some of you have commented on this paucity. (Thanks for the prods and encouragement, by the way). Due to a number of reasons I have had to change vocation from a graduate student to a primary earner; however, given my recent years of freedom, I decided to try and do this on my own terms: in the summer I began a web design business. This and other forms of consulting (writing and editing) have consumed my time and creative energy.

Check out my new web site (needless to say, if you know anyone who needs a web site designed please direct them to my design page).

So, in terms of the issues, where have I been for these months? Sadly, nowhere exotic. My political activism has been confined to wearing Obama sandals (mine were made in Kenya by Kwamboka) and digitally signing AVAAZ petitions (as one local reporter called it, slacktivism). I redeemed myself a little by posting some tweets and keeping abreast of the issues: I am still flummoxed by attitudes to PTS (Fort Bragg) and gross moral offences like organ harvesting of war dead. More on these issues to come.

Corporate Warming

In Britain, Greenpeace has condemned a number of supermarket chains for contributing to Amazon deforestation (and global warming) by purchasing products from farms that illegally cleared land. They have called for product labelling to discourage such practice. Similar calls have been made regarding sweatshop labour: Sweatfree, Fair Labour Association, and Canada’s union-based CLC. Such demands naturally extend to the wider issue of fair trade. For example, children stitch the majority of sports balls, frequently made of PVC, a toxic material. BC Hydro cogently outlines these issues for consumers. Voting with your dollar is an effective response since corporations respond to fluctuations in demand. Look out for the fair trade logo on these products or check out stores like Ten Thousand Villages and Seven Shores.

Meanwhile in Tennessee, Gore’s home state, Burger King owners have been displaying the following:

I guess they’d also support Chevron’s claim that toxic sludge is as harmless as moisturizer (Amy O’Meara provides a good breakdown of Chevron’s claims, as do Chevron’s shareholders). Apparently neither corporation has heard that some prominent physicians have named climate change as humanity’s greatest health threat; well, maybe after baloney.

TBI: How we got here.

As the U.S. military struggles to avert suicide (with whatever means necessary) and combat stress (one soldier killed five compatriots at a strees clinic), nearly 20 percent of soldiers struggle with Traumatic Brain Injuries (TBIs):

In Their Boots does a phenomenal job of helping veterans. Some soldiers have faced further affliction by being inadequately supplied with water. The reason for their dehydration appears to be greed, since the contractors charged with water purification stockpile supplies rather than distribute them (just one reason for the astronomical inflation of operation costs). Furthermore, the presence of opportunist contractors really makes one question our arrival at this juncture.

Andrew Sullivan has done a great job detailing how torture’s primarily used to confirm what an interrogator, e.g. Cheney, already thinks they know, rather than obtaining fresh information; thus, an inherent bias lies within confessions (a victim only tells the interrogator what they want to hear when they’ll say anything to stop the pain). John Pilger has created an award winning documentary, The War on Democracy, which outlines America’s systematic dismantling of democracies to further their foreign policy goals: 

Although I was astounded by Duane Clarridge’s honesty, I found his sentiments a relief from the lies of various politicians and officials. Fidel Castro has outlined his role in saving Chavez in 2002 (the coup detailed in the film). The People Speak, another excellent documentary, combines quotations from lesser known historical figures read by famous actors with historical footage to highlight the necessity of civil disobedience in America’s democracy. It is very disturbing that you can’t even complain about a delayed flight these days.

Street Art and Design Innovation

Designers frequently get pitted against clients who feel ignored. The great exception seems to be the world of high fashion, where anything-goes. (Thanks to Can West for setting the record straight on Haute Couture). Christopher Raeburn has taken advantage of this freedom by designing an entire line using military surplus fabrics.

Outside of fashion Karim Rashid has strived to make design accessible and universal, especially with his publication of Design Your Self. Britain’s NHS illustrated the importance of a collaborative approach by consulting the Design Council to help inhibit the spread of superbugs: new hospital furniture eliminates bacteria harbouring fittings and seat cracks.

Moleskine for years has taken the simple notebook and impregnated it with innovation. Now you can design your own. They have produced an excellent website (MoleskineCity my favourite). For the most part attitude determines aesthetic, fortunately the spectrum’s forever expanding: Britain has officially classified graffiti as street art (unfortunately a Banksy work was painted over by zealous volunteers). Smashing Magazine presents a good selection of graffiti artwork from around the world (expand links to explore individual collections). My favourite is REONE.

Playing For Change has changed attitudes by recording artists throughout the world and producing videos.

They provide resources in impoverished areas to ensure that the power of music continues to foster peace. The BBC helps the world comprehend the devastation of Cyclone Nargis with their interactive map, which shows destruction on an individual scale (for other spectacular maps check out cybercartography, Vanishing Employment, and the Atlas of Canadian Cinema). Big Ant International has created a number of cautionary posters for the Global Coalition for Peace: 

Hope over?

Scrict scrutiny of Obama began early. Naomi Klein produced some of the best. She noted that the public has suffered a hopeover, a hangover stemming from an overindulgence of hope. She’s correct; hope has led to expectation which has led to disappointment, but let’s reflect a little. Do you remember when it began? Recall the impeachment talk of the late 90’s and how many wished to hear such talk after Bush’s first 100 days. Bush proved what Clinton-Lewinsky reminiscers had feared true: he was extremely effective in moving the country wherever he wished, regardless of the consequences (global recession anyone?). Thus, on many levels pondering the etymology of hope is a luxury.

Although a global economic crisis provides a good measure of a man, it does not aid in evaluating Obama’s 100 or so days in office: first, the effectiveness of his stimulus package will not be measurable for years at least; and second, (theoretically) he could have accomplished much more if he were not so preoccupied (as could have many journalists). Nevertheless, Obama can be evaluated by four categories where he: a) accomplished positive change; b) marked a clear intention toward positive change; c) accepted a negative situation; d) stepped backward:

a) I think he made progress revising stem cell and endangered species legislation; releasing the torture memos (a Spanish judge is eager to prosecute if the AG won’t); classifying carbon as pollutant; and admitting to having contributed to climate change. b) He has made decisions to close Guantamo, but a recent vote puts this in jeopardy; to ease restrictions on Cuba, but further progress remains difficult; to reduce troops in Iraq, but when?; and to control nuclear weapons. c) He has accepted the status quo in Venezuela; in Israel; with the ICC; the automobile industry; and ANWR drilling. d) He increased the number of troops in Afghanistan (America could actually learn a thing or two from the Taliban).

I realize that progress is subjective, i.e., Swift Vets and Mavericks for Palin would probably reverse my order (progress for regress) and that progress takes time: many items may yet move up a category or two, e.g., Obama has a chance to challenge Netanyahu in a few weeks and Chrysler may pay back the bailout money. Overall, Obama has made very good progress, maybe not enough to avoid a hopeover, but enough. Remember that preventing regress is progress.

Tolerance or Bias?

Abraham Joshua Heschel, a rabbi and Jewish theologian, effectively reduced society’s ills to bite-size bits:

Racism is man's gravest threat to man - the maximum hatred for a minimum reason.

The problem to be faced is: how to combine loyalty to one’s own tradition with reverence for different traditions.

Above all, the prophets remind us of the moral state of a people: Few are guilty, but all are responsible.

No mere conundrums from the mid-20th century, these wise words demand action; however, human beings by nature seem to be self-deluding, especially concerning such matters. Surely programs, such as Affirmative Action and Teaching Tolerance, and mile-stones, such as an African-American president, have had an impact, but how do you evaluate progress when so much lingers below the surface? I guess one approach would be to examine popular culture. The success of Brokeback Mountain and Milk, suggests greater acceptance of homosexuals, especially given the plea in Sean Penn’s Oscar acceptance speech; in fact, greater acceptance has taken place (marriage is legal in six countries) and Brokeback equivalents have been produced around the world, e.g., I Can’t Think Straight.

Nevertheless, all of these movies featured attractive actors, and one thing western society does not seem to tolerate is unattractiveness. Tanya Gold immediately asserted that Susan Boyle wasn’t ugly on Britain’s Got Talent, just our reaction to her. Thus, it is extremely ironic that her story gets billed as one of an underdog, when the audience made her so. If you doubt this assertion read a few of these euphemisms. Although her performance evokes an emotional response for various reasons, for me, a rubber-neck reaction holds most viewers, an attraction to the car-wreck of bias. Although Susan Boyle does not suffer a mental illness, her behaviour is somewhat reminiscent of one who does.

Mental illness remains highly stigmatized in North America, despite many attempts to raise social awareness (a local favourite is Movie Monday). In order to foster understanding (and promote their products) Janssen Pharmaceuticals have developed a full sensory simulator, including wind effects and smells, of schizophrenia’s impact. Even the scaled down version (audio/visual only) evokes deep compassion. Dr. Pandina states it best, “It’s an awful, awful world, passed onto them while the real world passes them by.”

Toilet Humour

Contempt of Wall Street runs the full gamut, from academics to latrines. Anita Thompson attended a seminar on this “legalised gambling temple” where a professor asked, “What's the difference between Bernie Madoff and Charles Ponzi?” She answered, “Charles Ponzi swindled the working poor. Bernie Madoff swindled the Uber Rich -- the ones in-the-know. Well, apparently not so in-the-know.”

Icelanders prefer a literal approach (bankers pictured):

Speaking of latrines, who knew that fart gags could lead to killer apps:

Cost of War

When Obama released the torture memos he cracked the dam of complicity and unleashed wave of fear. In the aftermath he has assured CIA agents that they will not be prosecuted, but has not done the same for Bush aides (perhaps Bush should have pardoned himself).

In many places the cost of conflict is quite obvious:

However, this hasn’t really been the case for the U.S.: an estimated 320,000 troops have suffered a Traumatic Brain Injury while deployed and the ban on covering the transportation of coffins from war zones has only been lifted for a few months.

Fortunately, The Corporal’s Diary does much to detail the cost of war. The movie is based on Jonathan Santos’s personal video footage — him clowning around with the guys, playing with his dog, and then serving in Iraq — and his diary, which is passionately read aloud by his brother. This footage is pure, having little pretence or performance. Patricia Boiko, the director, connected with Jonathan’s mother through the Eyes Wide Open exhibit (an excellent portrayal of the human cost of war). She then edited Jonathan’s footage and her own of his family and friends into this moving piece. The Santos family deserves much credit for being so natural and vulnerable before the camera. As Jonathan’s mother tearfully states,

If you could have filmed me when they knocked on the door and they told me that Jonathan was dead, if you could film that and Americans heard that, there’s no way that they’d want any other mother to hurt like this.

Leonard Cohen

Upon the heels of many favourable reviews, I awaited in eager anticipation for my night with Leonard Cohen, especially after listening to The Collection and watching Jian’s interview:

Cohen himself was simply amazing, especially at 74: he shuffled and skipped across the stage, and spent much time on his knees serenading instruments and phantom lovers. His kind disposition shone through, addressing the crowd as friends and displaying genuine appreciation at the vigorous applause; furthermore, he employed his dry wit eliciting hearty laughs from the audience, e.g. asking the singers to keep singing at the end of In my Secret Life and ending with I Tried to Leave You. Cohen remains so cognisant of the human condition: he commented on how fortunate we are to gather when suffering’s so prevalent in the world. Whenever he recited lyrics he left many with goosebumps and tingles — A Thousand Kisses Deep still resounds within me.

Cohen remains a reluctant star, perhaps the reason he surrounded himself with so many great musicians to whom he repeatedly doffed his hat. Javier Mas, who met Cohen via Mas’s tribute Acordes Con Leonard Cohen, astounded audiences on the laud, bandurria, and guitar. Mas is an innovative musician who enjoys jamming with diverse instrumentalists, such as tabla player, Prabhu Edouard (reminiscent of Béla Fleck and Sandip Burman). 

Neil Larsen tactfully interwove his ghostly reverberations through most songs, at times hardly noticeable, but on Hallelujah he broke out with great flair. I really enjoyed Roscoe Beck’s bump and slide technique on the upright bass. Sharon Robinson filled the arena with her incredible voice and sensitive vibrato, especially on Boogie Street. (Here’s a great interview with Sharon). The Webb Sisters also amazed with their sweet harmonies and gave a spine-tingling performance of If it be your Will. I thought Dino Soldo was best on the harmonica, but appreciated his sensitivity on other songs. Bob Metzger and Rafael Bernardo Gayol did a good job holding it all together.

In the end one can only wonder at Cohen: his extensive catalogue, his sensitive interpretation of the human condition, his ability to capture a scene in a song, and the fact that he has performed over one hundred times this year and plans on doing another hundred. If you are unable to see him live purchase Live in London; this production does a good job of capturing the magic of his performance (as much as the medium can).