Crystal clear for ugliness

The first time my daughter saw the Michael Lee-Chin Crystal she said it looked as if an asteroid had struck the Royal Ontario Museum and got lodged in the roof. Or was it the side? I can’t remember, but then it’s hard to tell which is the roof and which is the side. Nevertheless, my daughter is a teacher and I respect her opinion.

Ever since the Crystal, as it’s called, was unveiled I kept wondering if I was the only one who thought it was hideous. But an international organization called VisualTourist has ranked the latest addition to Canada’s largest museum as no. 8 on its list of the ten ugliest buildings in the world.

As a Toronto native, I have many fond memories of the ROM. When I was a little boy, the dinosaurs were my favourite exhibit. My parents would take me, and the visit would end at the gift shop with new additions to my fossil collection. The ROM was part of my childhood.

In the ‘80s, I wrote for a magazine called Key to Toronto. The October 1982 issue had my piece about the ROM’s ongoing renovations – a new curatorial centre and new terrace galleries, including an expanded reptile gallery. These renovations comprised the second major makeover for the ROM, and would last for years, but it was still the ROM. The ROM opened in 1912 and, as the literature says, was built in the Italianate Neo-Romanesque style with arched windows, decorative eave bracks, quoins, and cornices. This means the stone building was stately and traditional, and had a certain presence at the southwest corner of Bloor Street and Queens Park Crescent. That is a major intersection right across the street from a number of University of Toronto buildings, and near the Yorkville area with its shops, boutiques, and dining establishments.

The 1933 expansion of the ROM included the Byzantine-style rotunda with its ornate mosaic ceiling. The rotunda was the main entrance until the thing happened. Today that grandiose rotunda with the magnificent ceiling and circular structure that brought European-style classicism to a once bland North American city is largely abandoned. Instead, visitors must come through the Crystal.

Today I’m a member of the ROM and have to walk by the Crystal whenever I come to hear a lecture or see an exhibit. It was there when I took in four lectures related to the Dead Sea Scrolls exhibit. It was there when I attended a Munk Debate on aid to Africa. It’s there every time I go for a walk around Queens Park Crescent and Bloor Street.

It is a monstrosity, and not just ugly, because ugly is a simple word and this is anything but simple. It is complicated, convoluted, and con-everything that is beautiful and sensible. I used to think the ugliest building in Toronto was the John Robarts Library. The reference library for the U of T is a disjointed structure of uneven proportions, sort of a three-dimensional ink blot without the symmetry. But next to the Crystal, the Robarts Library is the Taj Mahal.

The Crystal emerges from the ground like a metallic mushroom on steroids, its lines going off in all directions with no rhyme or reason. It rises out of the sidewalk like a cancerous tumor that renders the patient into a state of comatose terminitis. The fruit-explosion muffin from Tim Hortons has nothing on this glass-aluminum asterisk that could be a freeze-frame moments after the atomic blast to end the world. Don’t tell me about its deployment of shapes and geometry or the interlocking prismatic forms that turn the entire museum complex into a luminous beacon.

The Michael Lee-Chin Crystal – and I give cudos to the guy for donating all that money – is an abomination of the worst kind when free spirits who think they’re creative go off on a tangent and drag the community down with them.

For $270 million, the powers that be at the ROM gave us the Crystal with its in-your-face, American-style ego that, for all intents and purposes, destroyed the ROM. How dare they besmirch my memories of this once beautiful edifice. So here’s my idea. Tear the thing down and start over. Millions of people, especially those in Toronto, will say thank you.

My little guy is a new dad

Wasn’t it only yesterday he was throwing things off his high chair? Now he outweighs me and I’m a grandpa …

Click The Globe and Mail link below for a text and audio version.
http://www.theglobeandmail.com/life/facts-and-arguments/my-little-guy-is-a-new-dad/article1357102/739/

Jim Davidson Motors

There are several routes I take when I go jogging, and most of them lead through Jim Davidson Motors. Jim Davidson is at the corner of my street and has been a fixture here since 1949. My family is a relative newcomer by that standard, since we arrived only in 1980.

During just about any time of year, except for winter – I’m not crazy – you’ll find me running along our street in the late afternoon shortly before the dinner hour. After limbering up in the driveway, I either head north and hit the old Dodge-Chrysler dealership in about a minute and a half, and then do anything up to a 45-minute run, or go south towards the lake and visit Jim Davidson on the way back.

How many times I’ve run by the service department, and cut through the hordes of cars and vans, I have no idea. Over the years I’ve probably done a marathon just running through Jim Davidson. Today, however, there are no more new vehicles on the lot. Why? Jim Davidson has gone belly up. All that’s left is something called Canada Motor Car Co., which sells used cars. This company once shared the used-car lot with Jim Davidson, but now they’re going it alone.

It’s a sign of the times.

My Dad was a salesman who put 50,000 miles a year on his car. That’s right. Miles. He always drove a GM product, usually a Pontiac, but sometimes a Buick. Not in a million years would he have considered a foreign car, and he bought a new car every three years or so.

In the ‘60s the Japanese arrived big-time and ‘Made in Japan’ was synonymous for junk, especially in terms of automobiles. But their cars improved, and in the ‘70s and ‘80s, they kept taking bigger and bigger bites out of the domestic auto market. Even then, my father would never have considered buying a foreign car. The mere notion of it left a bad taste in his mouth.

It’s funny how times have changed. At our house, you’ll find a late-model Honda Accord, which is for my wife and me. I bought it used, privately, last summer which is how I buy all my cars now. Two or three years old, low mileage, still on warranty. Nothing to do with dealers. Lots of people say I’m crazy but my last car, a 1994 Mazda MX6, I drove for 11 years. The one before that, a 1984 Honda Prelude, I drove for ten. Without question, that Prelude was the best car I ever had. Ten years and not a single thing ever went wrong with it. Our daughter, who is a teacher, is at home and drives a 2006 Honda Civic, which she bought new.

We don’t have any problems with these cars.

Which brings us to the current global financial crisis, which according to the CEO’s of GM, Chrysler and Ford, is responsible for the Big Three requiring an emergency bailout of $25 billion from US taxpayers and who knows how much from Canadian taxpayers for their Canadian subsidiaries. The government can’t let them die, we are told, because so many jobs and spinoff industries would die with them.

I find something very un-American and anti-free enterprise about this whole concept. If you run a business and nobody wants to buy your product, then the government will bail you out. Is that how this continent developed an economy that became the envy of the world?

I have no doubt that America, and Canada along with it, will bounce back from the current economic doldrums. It might be painful and it might take longer than we’d like, but it will happen. But it won’t happen if we adopt the kind of attitude that the CEO’s of GM, Ford and Chrysler are taking.

Let’s face the facts. General Motors – at one time the proudest, biggest, and most arrogant company in the world – has become a loser, and that’s putting it mildly. They, with Ford and Chrysler, have repeatedly fought against better, greener, more fuel-efficient cars, choosing instead to make inefficient gas guzzlers that come with higher profit margins. Even when the writing was on the wall, they continued to adopt this dinosaur mentality. Today, GM, the former no. 1, isn’t so proud and isn’t so big. Yet, it remains as arrogant as ever.

Witness the Big Three CEO’s flying off to Washington in their corporate jets – they didn’t even jet-pool to share the load! – and asking for their handouts. And appearing before the Senate banking committee and blaming their current dilemma on the “global financial crisis.” Truly, such arrogance knows no bounds.

Fact. The former biggest automaker in the world wrote the book on planned obsolescence, and sunk its tentacles into consumers like my own father for decades. Once upon a time, there wasn’t really a choice. Fact. Today there is, and as wanna-be President John McCain recently observed, the people have spoken.

I’m going to miss running through Jim Davidson Motors. When the site is occupied by Toyota or Honda or maybe some European or even a Chinese manufacturer, it won’t be the same. The cars will definitely be smaller. But rest assured that the consumer will be considerably more discerning about what they buy and don’t buy.

Ford tough? I don’t think so.

The Art of Cabinet Making

Have you ever wondered why the United States, a country with 300 million people, has a Cabinet of 22 members, while Canada with its 33 million has a Cabinet of 38?

As I write this, incoming U.S. President Barack Obama – surely a breath of fresh air if there ever was one – is making plans for his Cabinet. He can select anyone he wants for whatever post. For Secretary of the Department of Agriculture, he can choose someone who is an expert in agriculture. For Secretary of the Department of Commerce, he can pick someone with experience in commerce. Same thing for Defence, Justice, Labour, Energy, Transportation, Health – you name it.

Of course, Obama is free to make all his selections from that pocket of America who are born-again, fundamentalist, diehard, bible-thumping Creationists. But I don’t think he’ll do that. He’s too smart to be that ignorant, and besides, this group already had their chance and we know how they fared.

I don’t believe for a minute that Barack Obama is the next president of the United States because he is of mixed race. He is the next president of the United States because he has shown himself to be the best person for the job.

This American presidential election went on for almost two years. Sure, we’re all sick to death of it, even though we remained glued to our TVs on election night. But think what Obama has gone through. At the outset, he was anything but a front runner. In the race for the Democratic nomination, Hillary Clinton was said to have a lock on the job. Obama came out of nowhere, took part in over 20 debates with the former First Lady, won primary after primary, and impressed everyone with his oratory, his insight, and an apparent wisdom far beyond his years. Then he took on John McCain, and we saw more of the same. At this point in time, and it’s early, there is nothing not to like about the man.

Clearly, the single biggest mistake McCain made was in choosing Sarah Palin as his running mate. But then, that was purely a political appointment which backfired.

Today, Obama can choose his Cabinet from a pool of 300 million Americans. He can choose anyone he wants. Most of us have forgotten, but Canada just had an election too, and Stephen Harper put together a Cabinet of his own.

In Canada, an adoptee of the British Parliamentary system, we do things differently than the U.S. The Prime Minister selects his Cabinet from elected Members of Parliament, and with the odd exception, makes those selections from his party’s caucus. However, most all those selections tend to be political appointments.

If the PM has but a single MP from one region of the country, you can bet this person will be in the Cabinet no matter how little experience or little ability they possess. Why? Because it’s a political appointment. Likewise, a one-armed, legally blind, Aboriginal with strong Metis bloodlines from the North who went clean after an abused adolescence can rest assured that once they get elected they’ll be in the Cabinet as well. Because it’s a political appointment. This is why hapless sorts like Maxime Bernier masquerade in such key Cabinet posts as Minister of Defense – for a few months anyway – until the truth comes out in the form of an ex-biker gal with nice legs. Indeed, it’s why the Canadian Cabinet is a very weak entity, and why a leader like Stephen Harper is apt to run a one-man show.

Today, some guy named Jean-Pierre Blackburn is Minister of National Revenue and Minister of State for Agriculture. What does he know about agriculture? Not a thing. I checked his bio and he has as much experience in agriculture as I do. But he represents the riding of Jonquiere-Alma in Quebec, and that’s why he’s there.

Rona Ambrose used to be Minister of the Environment until she embarrassed herself, and in the last shuffle was moved to Labour. Oh, and she is “passionate about informing young Canadians on the important role that politics can play in their lives.” It says so in her bio. Maxime Bernier? He’s not in the Cabinet anymore.

But what if Harper had as much freedom to pick his Cabinet as Obama does? What if he really was non-partisan and sincere about picking the best people for the job? He might make Cabinet appointments like this:

Defence – Retired General Rick Hillier. He did more for the Canadian military than anyone else over the past 40 years.

Finance – Paul Martin. Remember him? He’s a Liberal and a former PM, but he was also the best Finance Minister we ever had.

Foreign Affairs – Maurice Strong is probably too old now, but what a minister he would have made in this portfolio.

Public Safety – Julian Fantino. Wouldn’t that be nice?

Environment – David Estrin. He was Canada’s very first environmental lawyer, is recognized internationally for his work, and currently leads this area of specialization at the prestigious law firm of Gowlings.

Minister of State for Sport – Wayne Gretzky. Enough said.

As for some other posts, well, the Minister of Canadian Heritage and Official Languages should be … nobody. Harper ought to disband this ministry immediately. It’s a waste of time and money. Minister of Citizenship, Immigration and Multiculturalism? Nobody again. Same reason. 

How about the Minister of State for Western Economic Diversification? Huh? I kid you not. This one should also go, along with the Minister of State for Democratic Reform, and Minister of State for Economic Development Agency of Canada for the Regions of Quebec.

What was that last one again? I’m sure you never heard of it, but the Ministry of State for Economic Development Agency of Canada for the Regions of Quebec is a federal government department responsible for economic expansion in Quebec. It promotes small or medium-sized enterprises, and has 15 offices throughout the province. So how come this have-not province has its own ministry, while another have-not’er by the name of Ontario doesn’t?

Politics. It’s a four-letter word. Twice.

Email news@authorjerryamernic.com

 

Dog’s Breakfast

Last week I did a seminar on Media Relations for the Toronto Police Service at Seneca College. The TPS has a program called Advanced Leadership Course, and the group included both senior officers and civilian employees. One of my slides cited examples of Good Communicators and included the famous JFK quote: ‘Ask not what your country can do for you, but what you can do for your country.’ It is a magnificent phrase that goes to the heart of a nation. Any nation. Which brings me to Canada after this most recent election.

Today our Parliament is a dog’s breakfast, something like Israel’s Knesset with its 18 federal parties, none of whom ever holds enough power to implement policies without sacrificing their own principles and being forced to sleep with a motley crew of strange bedfellows. You can call this political rape. Such governments are, at best, bumbling bureaucracies embedded in watered-down, decision-making. Here’s why.

When I watched the Leaders’ Debate, I kept asking myself why Gilles Duceppe was at the table. He represents a party that only runs candidates in Quebec. Thus, it is not a federal party at all, but a Quebec party. Today, with 50 MPs in the House of Commons, the Bloq once again holds the balance of power and, in the process, holds the rest of us hostage. If that’s not a dysfunctional government, I don’t know what is. If Canada was a real country – and it’s really just a collection of component parts – our constitution wouldn’t even permit a party that only runs candidates in one province and is committed to the breakup of the nation. I couldn’t imagine the U.S. allowing the Lone Star Party whose interests are confined to the state of Texas.

I also wondered why Elizabeth May was at the table in that Leaders’ Debate, and I say that with the admission of having voted for the Green Party in the last Ontario election because I thought they made the most sense. But Ms. May was representing a federal party that had never elected a single Member of Parliament, its one and only MP being a convert from the Liberals. Ms. May herself was not an elected MP either. Alas, if the Greens were at that table, why not the Abolitionist Party of Canada, the Communist Party of Canada, the Libertarian Party of Canada, or the Christian Heritage Party of Canada? At last count, we had 32 federal political parties in this country. Or maybe we could have brought back the Marihuana Party or the Rhinoceros Party. Each of them, at the time of the debate, had as many elected MPs as the Greens, which was none.

Today the Greens still have none.

And so, if we were a country that had any sense, there would have been only three people at that table – Conservative Leader Stephen Harper, Liberal Leader Stephane Dion, and NDP Leader Jack Layton. Which is how it should have been in the first place. The various choices for voters would have been more apparent, and single-issue parties wouldn’t have been there.

So, what does all this have to do with that JFK quote? ‘Ask not what your country can do for you, but what you can do for your country?’ Plenty. It begs the question whether or not such words apply to Canada, and I think the answer is obvious. These words are about as far from the Canadian reality as the moon.

The single biggest problem in this country is that when we have a problem, we throw money at it, believing it’ll go away. But real life doesn’t work that way. It doesn’t work that way in a country and it doesn’t work that way in a family. Does a good-for-nothing son-in-law stop coming to your door when all you do is give him money? Of course not.

 There is obviously a huge problem concerning our aboriginal population that can’t be addressed in this brief space. However, as far as Ottawa’s strategy is concerned and I use that word lightly, the one constant through the years has been the federal government throwing untold millions of dollars at the problem, with the result that we see today. Many aboriginals are, more or less, wards of the state.

 The issue about supporting the arts reared its head in this election campaign. While the monies directed here are not even close to what goes to the Native community, the fact remains that many people out there think they deserve federal handouts because they consider themselves to be artistes. They too have become wards of the state.

 Provincial premiers spend as much time begging for handouts from Ottawa as they do governing. Indeed, when was the last time you heard someone from the educational or healthcare sectors say: ‘Thank you very much, federal and provincial governments, but we have enough money to spend now and don’t need any more?’ While I suppose some may argue that schools and hospitals should be ‘wards of the state,’ I don’t see many signs in Ottawa or any provincial capital with a concrete plan designed to improve the health of our people or improve the academic smarts of our young.

 Indeed, with our ever-aging population, healthcare eats up so much of our provincial budgets that every province is petrified about what the future holds. What’s more, we have an immigration system that encourages people from every corner of the globe to bring over their entire family tree, whether they can make a contribution or not, and once when they’re on the payroll there is nothing to stop them from taking Junior to the local emergency ward whenever he has a fever.

 Canada is a great big gravy train.

 When I was doing that seminar on Media Relations for the Toronto Police Service, my slide screwed up the JFK quote, and I had it in reverse. ‘Ask not what you can do for your country, but what your country can do for you.’ Someone pointed out the mistake and I apologized. What is truly sad is that the words up on the screen represented the Canadian version.

Big Brother is Watching You

You remember 1984, George Orwell’s epic novel about the future? It was the future of Winston Smith, a nondescript man who lived by himself in a world of Thought Police, and such government ministries as the Ministry of Love, Ministry of Truth, and Ministry of Peace. It was a world of propaganda and slogans. Fiction is truth. War is peace. And, of course, Big Brother is watching you.

While no one would argue that Canada is like the world of Winston Smith, it may be a bit naive to think that this country is above the pettiness and, dare I say corruption, which we know has taken place south of the border.

My first book was published in 1984. Victims: The Orphans of Justice was about a man whose daughter had been murdered by a perfect stranger, an offender just released from federal penitentiary on mandatory supervision. Today it’s called statutory release, and it means that just about anyone – lifers side – who are doing federal time get out after 2/3 of their sentence, whether they had qualified for parole or not.

While Victims was about the disgusting manner in which victims of violent crimes were treated by our justice system, it was also an indictment against the automatic early-release system. It even cited the federal government’s own study – the Solicitor General’s Study of Conditional Release – about crimes committed by offenders out on early release. This study said: “Penitentiaries have a strong interest in seeing as many full releases as possible occur in order to save costs.”

How? Back in 1984, it cost $25,000 a year to incarcerate an offender in penitentiary, but only $2,000 a year to supervise that offender in the community under conditional release. So this meant an annual saving of $23,000 a year for every offender let out. Today, of course, those figures are much higher. The average cost of incarcerating a male offender in maximum security is over $110,000 a year, and about $20,000 a year to supervise the offender on statutory release, which works out to a ‘saving’ of $90,000 a year.

Needless to say, Victims poked a few holes into the government’s highly touted notion of rehabilitation as I discovered the ease with which violent criminals – murderers, rapists, child molesters – were released onto the streets of Canada every day, and the litany of crimes they committed.

The first time I told the father of the murdered girl that I wanted to write a book, he said: “What if someone paid you $25,000 NOT to write this book?” I had no idea what he was talking about. Well, I forged ahead and wrote it. It was published in paperback with a retail price of $4.50.

At the time, Pierre Trudeau and his Liberals had a majority government. An earlier Trudeau government had publicly endorsed the new approach to corrections. In 1971, Solicitor General Jean-Pierre Goyer said: “We have decided from now on to stress the rehabilitation of individuals rather than the protection of society.” Those guys weren’t kidding. Rehabilitation became the mantra of corrections in Canada, and we were told time and again about the high success rates of offenders on parole and automatic release.

After Victims was published, I started receiving cheques for $4.50 from people who couldn’t find copies of it in bookstores. We started tracking where these people were from, and it appeared that anyone living in federal government ridings held by Liberal Cabinet Ministers couldn’t find a copy of it in their ridings. Huh? Come again.

Cheques were arriving from the federal government riding of Cape Breton Highlands-Canso, which was held by the then Secretary of State for External Affairs. And from Windsor-Walkerville, which was held by the then Minister of Justice. And so on right down the list. You couldn’t find a copy of Victims in those ridings if your life depended on it.

I couldn’t believe this was happening, and organized some friends to check it out. They did, and it was. In fact, one day before I left to do media interviews in B.C. and Alberta, the book was actually pulled from the shelves of bookstores in the federal riding of Winnipeg-Assiniboine, which just happened to be held by the furthest west Liberal MP you could find.

Of course, the Tories were very helpful in furnishing me with information about all the crimes committed by offenders on release – when they were in Opposition – but once they took office later in 1984 with their Conservative majority, they disappeared into the woodwork.

I have seen several elections since then, and now yet another one is on our doorstep. I advise my fellow Canadians to listen intently to what your candidates have to say, but don’t forget about Winston Smith. Those hoodwinkers, they’re everywhere.

Read More of Jerry’s articles and book excerpts at http://www.authorjerryamernic.com.

Hero Worship: Facts and Foibles

I just returned from Washington, D.C. where I got a quick education in the art of venerating leaders. The U.S. capital, a city of inspiring architecture, venerates four presidents in particular – George Washington, Thomas Jefferson, Abraham Lincoln, and Franklin D. Roosevelt. Each has a memorial and each memorial is unique.

The Washington Monument rises 555 feet over the city, a massive obelisk honouring the father of a nation with 300 million offspring. As official sire of the republic, Washington rightly deserves to be recognized by the world’s largest phallic symbol. He is remembered not only as the first president, but as a general who won the nation’s independence from Great Britain, as a farmer who lived and died on the land, and as a cartographer, surveyor, connoisseur of wines, voracious reader of books, entrepreneur, and all things deemed good by Americans. He is on the dollar bill, the capital bears his name, and lampposts throughout the entire Capital Region have his silhouette. The man is ubiquitous.

Even his estate in Mount Vernon, Virginia has been restored to its former glory. The entire experience of his life as depicted on these grounds portrays him as a leader of men.

The FDR memorial captures this president in a different way, telling a story that recognizes his accomplishments through the Great Depression and World War II. But he, too, comes across as a leader.

The same is true of Jefferson and Lincoln. Now Lincoln is widely regarded as the greatest of all presidents. The manner in which he sits – 19 feet from top to bottom, 175 tons, surrounded by 36 Doric columns in neoclassical magnificence with a look of wisdom that speaks courage and determination – is all you have to know about the man. But for good measure, the north and south chambers of the memorial are inscribed with the words of his Second Inaugural Address and Gettysburg Address, and people actually read them. Which brings me to my country. How does Canada venerate its leaders? And what leaders do we venerate? Aye, there’s the rub.

The house in Kingston, Ontario where Sir John A. Macdonald lived sits as a museum, but I don’t know a single person who ever visited it. He is on our 10-dollar bill and there are a few statues sprinkled about, but he is best remembered as a man with a large nose who drank.

Mackenzie King was prime minister for over 21 years – 21 years! – which is eight years or two full presidential terms longer than FDR served as US president, and for all that he gets his face on the 50-dollar bill, the odd statue, and not much else. He is remembered as a bachelor who was guided by the spirit of his dead mother.

When we consider more recent occupants of 24 Sussex Drive, I think it’s safe to say that leadership is not the first trait that comes to mind. John Diefenbaker was an able orator, in English anyway, but no leader. Lester Pearson earned his stripes on the international stage as a diplomat, but as prime minister he seemed more nice guy in the mode of Jimmy Carter than a man to follow into battle. Joe Clark had a soft chin and was led around by his wife. John Turner was in office just long enough to show he didn’t belong. Paul Martin wasn’t known as a waffler by accident.

What about long-time PM’s Brian Mulroney and Jean Chretien? Mulroney spoke eloquently about the injustice of apartheid in South Africa and managed the economy, but will be remembered for the Schreiber affair, which puts him into Nixon territory. His debatable accomplishments aside, Mulroney will never be revered by his people. Besides, Americans don’t lionize their presidents, especially the dead ones, because of how they managed the economy. They lionize them because they were leaders.

As for Chretien, a rather arrogant and ignorant man, he did win three elections despite the fact he wasn’t conversant in either of the nation’s official languages, which I suppose is something of a feat. But let’s be honest, anyone proposing a monument when either of these two guys is gone would be laughed out.

Of all the prime ministers in my lifetime, Pierre Trudeau is the only one I would call a leader. The man had guts and he could make decisions. However, a monument or memorial to PET? Venerating a man who is the Father of Canadian socialism, who shied away from the fight against Nazi Germany and dismissed the battle as “England’s war,” and who for all his travels and alleged wisdom had precious little understanding of the country outside the province of Quebec, would be a bit much to swallow. Do you recall that after his death, it was announced that Canada’s highest mountain Mount Logan would be renamed after Trudeau? It would be our own version of Mount Rushmore. But it resulted in such ferocious debate that the idea was quickly nipped in the bud.

What about present PM Stephen Harper? He’s still new to the job, but I don’t get much of a sense of George Washington or Abraham Lincoln from him either.

Frankly, I envy how Americans wave their flag and venerate their leaders. It smacks of nation-building and the Americans have definitely built a nation. We seem to have inherited ours and that’s a big difference. Americans make their leaders larger than life – while they are in office and especially when they are out of office – and build spectacular monuments to honour them. Despite their foibles.

The bitter irony of George Washington and that 555-foot phallic symbol is that in 41 years of marriage the general didn’t impregnate Martha even once. And never mind that on his Mount Vernon estate he presided over slaves, or that one military campaign not recorded by American history was his decimation of 40 Seneca Indian villages on the finger lakes of New York State. Such things are conveniently overlooked, and let’s not forget that Washington’s career in politics was assured at the age of 27 when he married the young widow of one of the wealthiest men in Virginia.

It seems that having access to money through inheritance, marriage, or dare I say the word theft goes a long way to building a political career, no matter where you reside.

The point I’m trying to make is that if people were completely honest about their heroes, none of these men would be depicted as they are, and no nation would have any heroes. Not without some mythology. Jefferson wasn’t only a father of early America, he was also the father of many blacks who lived their entire lives as slaves. JFK was a womanizer. Nixon a liar. George W. Bush? Well, if the current Oval Office incumbent gets to Mount Rushmore – and I have my doubts – that huge bust of his head might well have nothing in it. It would be hollow. And if Bill Clinton ever gets there, what is on display likely won’t be a bust at all, but an altogether different body part.

Anyway, these guys won’t make it. Still, Washington, Jefferson, Lincoln, and Roosevelt (Teddy, not FDR) look pretty damn good up on that mountain, don’t they? They look strong. And they are. Stone has that effect, as do all those monuments and memorials in D.C.  It’s all part of nation building and Americans are good at that, better than any people on this earth. Such things make them proud, while we Canadians are just … Canadians.

Whatever that is.

Toronto the Good

Frank Sullivan, who lives in West Vancouver, had a letter printed in the Globe and Mail last week. “Given the number of bullets flying around the streets of Toronto,” he said, “I’d think the city’s bureaucrats would be more concerned with preventing lead poisoning than skin cancer.” He was responding to the city erecting shade audits that would measure the angle of the sun at different times of day so as to protect children from the sun’s rays. I won’t get into that now, but I will get into the bit about lead poisoning. Or guns.

 

Frank’s letter made me think back a few years when I was working with a young woman from Sudbury, Ontario at an Ontario government office. At the time, Toronto’s so-called ‘year of the gun’ was making news all over the place, and this woman told me how her mother kept phoning from Sudbury because she was worried about her daughter being shot.

 

Well, let me tell you my story. I was born and raised in Toronto – and encountering such people is becoming more unusual all the time, but that will be another article – and have lived in this city for over half a century. Not once have I ever witnessed any situation or altercation where a gun was involved. Not once! I have never seen somebody get shot. I have never even seen a firearm of any type discharged. No AK-47. No Uzi. No sawed-off shotgun. No pistol.

 

Not a single time in over 50 years.

 

I’m sure that all you people in Vancouver, Calgary, Edmonton, Winnipeg, Montreal, and everywhere else figure that I must be the only person in Toronto who has been shielded from all this violence, and for such a long time, too. Why, I must be living in a closet with my eyes closed. How could this be?

 

I’ll tell you.

 

The reason I haven’t witnessed any of this violence is because at 3 a.m., on any given morning, you will find me at home in bed. If I’m not in my bed, you will find me in the living room reading a book or watching TV as a means of fighting insomnia. But you won’t find me in those areas of the city infected with gangs and crack houses, which are generally found in low-income, government-subsidized, high-rise towers where thousands and even tens of thousands of people congregate in ugly, seedy ghettoes that breed crime. Which isn’t to say that everyone who lives in such places is a criminal. But the ratio of criminals to the population is a lot higher there than it is on my street.

 

I could draw you a map of Toronto – the entire city – and show you where these places are. This doesn’t mean that innocent people don’t get killed or shot through no fault of their own. They do, just as they do everywhere else in the world, but in Toronto it’s not common. As I say this, my heart goes out to any innocent victims of violence who find themselves in the wrong place at the wrong time. But to imply that Toronto is a city where you one is in constant danger of being shot is ridiculous.

 

This tells me that something is very much amiss in how my town is perceived by those who don’t live here.

 

I have little doubt that if a poll was taken asking Canadians what they thought was the most crime-ridden city in the country, Toronto would be no. 1. How could it not? A day doesn’t go by when the print and air waves – right across the country it seems – aren’t blazing about gun violence or three men found slain in west end or mayor seeks to ban all guns. At the same time, recently released crime stats reveal that Canada’s largest city is also – are you ready? – the safest big city in the country!

 

The highest crime rate was in Regina, Saskatchewan. Population 200,000. In fact, cities with the highest crime rates were all out West.

 

Now I know as well as anyone that figures can lie, just as liars can figure, and politicians are especially good at this. But I just wanted to assure people like Frank Sullivan in West Vancouver that he doesn’t know what he’s talking about, and it’s not his fault. It’s largely the fault of the media, which has an increasing tendency to create stories, and more than stories, issues that may or may not even exist, and if they do exist what gets reported is way out of whack from the reality. It is also the fault of some of those aforementioned politicians to whom the mere scent of a possible voter can trigger an outbreak of unadulterated BS.

 

Toronto is a city which, in many ways, is under fire. Gridlock is horrendous. The streets are falling apart. Many areas are not as clean as they used to be. Some parts of the downtown are in a sorry state because of a proliferation of beggars, panhandlers and drug addicts who are allowed to breed like mosquitoes. But Toronto is the fifth biggest city in North America, and for all big cities in North America, it has the lowest crime rate. Don’t get me wrong. When it comes to dealing with the bad guys, I’m all for getting tough, and in some cases, throwing away the key.

 

But implying that Toronto is under fire from the gun is a bit like calling Afghanistan a democracy.

Smearing the thin blue line

Let’s say you’re from Afghanistan or Somalia and are new to Canada. You are eager to learn about the country and so, you pick up a newspaper. What do you see? Ex-police officer faces child porn, luring charges. Toronto cops face charges in grow-op raids. Ex-policeman accused of intimidating witness. And, of course, countless stories about how police are tasering innocent people everywhere.

What would you conclude? You’d think that police in this country are corrupt thugs just like they are back home. They carry guns and batons and, worse than that, attitude. Judging by what we see in the media every day, what else would you think? And then, when a crime is committed in your neighbourhood and the police come around to investigate, you want nothing to do with them.

Is the media waging a vendetta against the police? I would argue that the answer to that question is yes. And if the media is merely reporting the facts as they claim, then they aren’t doing a very good job of it, at least, not a balanced one.

Judging by the kind of coverage they get, police must routinely be going around brutalizing people, usurping the individual’s rights, and taking the law into their own hands because this is how they are portrayed, in newspapers especially. This is why one scribe will devote six months of columns to a case where a man is shot and killed while in police custody, and why when a black man is shot by Toronto police, Canada’s largest newspaper the Toronto Star will go into battle mode against the city’s ‘racist cops.’

Have I ever had a bad experience with a cop? Yes, the very first one, in fact. When I was 17 I was driving a girl home in my father’s car when another motorist went through a stop sign and hit us. I took the guy’s ID and insurance, and went home. In the morning, my father took a look at his car and called the police. An officer came to the house, insisted I had been high on booze and drugs the night before, and charged me for not reporting an accident. He was steadfast, and you couldn’t argue with him.

I had nothing good to say about that officer then, and have nothing good to say about him now. But to dismiss all police based on that one experience would be wrong.

If you get mugged on the street, who do you call? Do you call a lawyer? Nope. Do you call a social worker? Nope. Do you call your clergyman or maybe your Member of Parliament? Give me a break. You call a cop. And you call a cop because they are the ones looking out for us.

What would happen if, for even one day, there were no police? Why, it would be chaos. The bad guys would be even more brazen than they are now. Not only would they know that this country’s justice system is soft on crime, which it is, but there would be no one around to enforce what laws we have.

It wouldn’t be difficult to write a newspaper column about cops, and tear a strip off them every time out. Every morning you just Google ‘police brutality’ or check out the latest listing for any number of special-interest groups who have it in for the cops, then fill your space with raw emotion. Much of the material wouldn’t be based on fact, but as they say, why let facts get in the way of a good story?

What is fact is that, media aside, the huge majority of people in this country are very supportive of the police. And why shouldn’t they be? By and large, the police are first-class. They bust their butts trying to keep our streets safe, and it’s surprising that more of them don’t quit in disgust with what often transpires in the courts. I don’t know of any other profession that gives back more to the community than the police, and I’m not only talking about when they are on duty, but also when they are off duty.

Is there a more difficult job that carries such potentially fatal hazards than that of a police officer? Probably not. I wouldn’t do it for a living. I couldn’t put up with the crazy hours, and most definitely couldn’t put up with the frustration of pounding the beat and maybe taking considerable risk to arrest some dude only to see him back on the street half an hour later with a smirk on his face.

Naturally, any police who screw up should pay the price. Those who really are on the take, or who shoot first and ask questions later, or who are in the business of running grow-ups or any other type of illicit activity should not be wearing a badge, and I don’t believe that they will for very long. But are they truly representative of police per se? No.

I was at a wedding last week, and in one conversation the story about police being charged with running a grow-up reared its ugly head. “They all do it,” said one learned fellow, dismissing the whole lot of law enforcement in one fell swoop. 

Well, I would like to take all the cop-haters out there – and you know who you are – and drop them off in the highest-crime areas of the country, in the middle of the night, and let them fend for themselves. The group would include a few well-known criminal lawyers who never have a good thing to say about the police, at least one federal party leader who’s been an anti-police advocate since his days in municipal politics, not to mention an assortment of law professors, civil libertarians, activists with an axe to grind, and a whole slew of journalists who not once in their life ever had to stare down the barrel of a gun that was pointed in their face in some seedy alleyway.

Cops? God bless ’em.

 

Physician heal thyself

With all the talk about our healthcare system, we’re missing out on what may be its most pressing problem – the arrogance of some doctors. Awhile back I was referred to a dermatologist for a skin condition. Healthcare being what it is in Canada, it was months before I saw him. He took a few scrapings and said he’d send them to the lab to see what it is. Then he booked me for a second appointment, and said at that time he’d have the results and would examine me again.

This was the dead of winter and on the next visit it was very chilly. I booked the first appointment of the morning. The doctor’s staff was there, along with many patients, but he was not. Some 45 minutes later he waltzed through the door. I asked the receptionist why he was late and she said it was cold outside.

The doctor confirmed the condition, but couldn’t say what type it is. He didn’t examine me as he had promised, and shooed me out saying I should call if things get worse. A wasted visit, at least, for me.

Later I saw another doctor for a different problem. He said he could treat it. He booked me for three weeks hence and, as before, I chose the first appointment of the morning. Alas, I waited 30 minutes for his arrival. He didn’t examine me as he had promised, and only wanted to make sure I had come to see him. I was out in three minutes flat. Another wasted effort for me, another fee for the doctor.

Meanwhile, a small growth had appeared on my chest. My G. P. referred me to yet another dermatologist who said he could remove it with a spray, but it would take three sessions at fifty bucks a crack. It wasn’t covered. And he said he could get rid of those little polyps I had. “I’ll just snip ‘em off. It’s $160. I don’t take debit or cheques. Cash or credit card.”

He talked with the all-business demeanour of a retail checkout clerk, then checked out my earlier skin condition, which he concluded was definitely not what the first doctor had said. I agreed to the polyp removals, which cost $10 a snip. When including the spray for the growth on my chest plus taxes, the total bill was $220 for a 15-minute visit. Add $50 for each of two subsequent visits after that and the guy cost me $320. I realize this was an elective procedure, but the reason I went was to make sure the problem wasn’t serious. Never mind the fact that many years ago I had a growth removed, only then they managed to do it in one visit and it was covered. Strange how inflation infects not only economics, but our biological health as well.

Now let’s move to 2003 when SARS hit Toronto. Where were our leaders? Prime Minister Jean Chretien was golfing in the Dominican Republic. Ontario Premier Mike Harris was golfing in Arizona. Toronto Mayor Mel Lastman, who didn’t play golf, got interviewed on CNN where he asked, “What’s the WHO?” (The World Health Organization had issued a worldwide ban on traveling to Toronto). Over the next few weeks, 44 people died and Toronto was widely seen as a pariah. The perception, especially by US media, was that of a massive outbreak in the community, everyone in masks, people afraid to go outdoors, and “rampant fear and paranoia” on the streets.

The facts were that only hospital staff and patients were in masks, and notwithstanding the media coverage, it was pretty much life as usual. But Toronto’s handling of the situation was a classic in how NOT to do crisis communications. There was no single point of contact with the media. No clear concise messaging. No plan. And no leadership. But one voice of reason did emerge. Dr. Sheela Basrur.

Leadership is tested when times are tough and this diminutive woman – a doctor no less – shone like a beacon when all others failed miserably. She took control. She explained things in a way that people understood. She said to be calm.

Dr. Basrur was a physician who embodied the Hippocratic Oath, and not only during SARS, but during her entire life. After obtaining her medical degree, she visited such places as Nepal and India where she learned first-hand about preventive medicine. So she went into public health. Because of her, restaurants must now post notices in their windows saying if they passed or failed a health inspection. She helped make Toronto’s smoking ban in public places a reality. She developed a plan to tackle bioterrorism. And during SARS she led.

Three weeks ago she died at the age of 51 from a rare form of cancer. Though I never met her, I felt the same way I did when Terry Fox died. As if I had lost a friend.

The Hippocratic Oath, which I once thought all doctors adhere to, says, “In every house where I come I will enter only for the good of my patients.” Today doctors visiting your house has gone the way of the dodo bird. But what’s that about attitude? Like regarding patients as being so inconsequential it doesn’t matter if you show up on time. Or citing your services as if they are a shopping list. Or would you please not dally so I can move on to my next customer. Whatever happened to doctors being people who care for their fellow human beings and, in the process, show a little compassion? A person like Dr. Sheela Basrur. Unfortunately, such physicians seem to be few and far between.