Heather Conn Blogs

 

When people are mired in despair and violence, it takes courage to speak out against those in power and to share one’s vision of a better world. Charlie Chaplin did that almost 75 years ago in his 1940 film classic The Great Dictator.

 

I felt inspired to share some of the speech that Chaplin wrote and delivers in the movie, in which he plays a Jewish barber mistaken for dictator Adenoid Hinkel, a Hitler lookalike. This tragicomedy, released in the early years of the Second World War (before U.S. involvement), was the first Hollywood film to stand against fascism and anti-semitism and to denounce Hitler. It later helped cause the branding of Chaplin as a Communist and his challenges with the Hollywood blacklist.

 

Sadly, Chaplin’s words seem just as apt today, especially following last week’s Boston marathon bombings and Watertown, Ma. shootings. In Canada, we could easily apply them to Stephen Harper’s attempts to quash freedom of speech and erode the democratic rights of all citizens.

 

Sure, the words are overwrought, they exclude women, and cite traditional religion, but think of when Chaplin spoke them. People were losing their lives to fight for democracy. This was a gutsy public voice against not only Hitler, but war and capitalism.

 

In this film sequence, Chaplin plays a character mistaken for Hitler, who addresses “his” army with a passionate plea:

“I’m sorry but I don’t want to be an emperor. That’s not my business. I don’t want to rule or conquer anyone. I should like to help everyone if possible;  Jew, Gentile, black men, white.

“We all want to help one another. Human beings are like that. We want to live by each others’ happiness, not by each other’s misery. We don’t want to hate and despise one another. In this world there is room for everyone. And the good earth is rich and can provide for everyone. The way of life can be free and beautiful, but we have lost the way.

“Greed has poisoned men’s souls; has barricaded the world with hate; has goose-stepped us into misery and bloodshed. We have developed speed, but we have shut ourselves in. Machinery that gives abundance has left us in want. Our knowledge as made us cynical; our cleverness, hard and unkind. We think too much and feel too little. More than machinery we need humanity. More than cleverness, we need kindness and gentleness. Without these qualities, life will be violent and all will be lost. The aeroplane and the radio have brought us closer together. The very nature of these inventions cries out for the goodness in man; cries out for universal brotherhood; for the unity of us all.

“Even now my voice is reaching millions throughout the world, millions of despairing men, women, and little children, victims of a system that makes men torture and imprison innocent people. To those who can hear me, I say “Do not despair.” The misery that is now upon us is but the passing of greed, the bitterness of men who fear the way of human progress. The hate of men will pass, and dictators die, and the power they took from the people will return to the people. And so long as men die, liberty will never perish.

“Soldiers! Don’t give yourselves to brutes, men who despise you and enslave you; who regiment your lives, tell you what to do, what to think and what to feel! Who drill you, diet you, treat you like cattle, use you as cannon fodder! Don’t give yourselves to these unnatural men—machine men with machine minds and machine hearts! You are not machines! You are not cattle! You are men! You have a love of humanity in your hearts! You don’t hate! Only the unloved hate; the unloved and the unnatural.

“Soldiers! Don’t fight for slavery! Fight for liberty! In the seventeenth chapter of St. Luke, it’s written “the kingdom of God is within man”, not one man nor a group of men, but in all men! In you! You, the people, have the power, the power to create machines, the power to create happiness! You, the people, have the power to make this life free and beautiful, to make this life a wonderful adventure. Then in the name of democracy, let us use that power.

“Let us all unite. Let us fight for a new world, a decent world that will give men a chance to work, that will give youth a future and old age a security. By the promise of these things, brutes have risen to power. But they lie! They do not fulfill their promise. They never will! Dictators free themselves but they enslave the people! Now let us fight to fulfill that promise! Let us fight to free the world! To do away with national barriers! To do away with greed, with hate and intolerance! Let us fight for a world of reason, a world where science and progress will lead to all men’s happiness.

“Soldiers, in the name of democracy, let us all unite!”

Curious pedestrians stopped to watch. A man in a taxi stared out the back-seat window. A nearby sidewalk vendor with a kazoo and crazy red costume sold Valentine’s trinkets to passersby.

 

But as darkness descended last Thursday, thirteen women in downtown Vancouver, BC, Canada focused on slow, spontaneous movement, in silent unison. We were part of the global solidarity dance One Billion Rising, held on Valentine’s Day as a symbolic demand to end violence against women and girls. (The name of the event, created by Eve Ensler’s organization V Day, refers to the reality that one in three females on earth will be beaten or raped in her lifetime, which amounts to more than a billion women.)

While women in cities around the world gyrated, sang, and held flash mobs, our group, arranged in a line, clutched a long, rolled-up red cloth. We lay it on the ground in front of the old courthouse steps on Robson Street, now part of the Vancouver Art Gallery. This defined our space, as a symbolic boundary, while a supportive male friend watched our belongings.

 

With informal facilitator Ingrid Rose, we took turns leading an improvised series of synchronized movements, decided in the moment by each rotating “leader.” Some of us used flashlights to spark the night as we all clasped hands to our hearts, raised arms skyward, bent down to touch the earth, and maintained an ongoing fluid flow of motions with our arms and legs.

I learned that such group movement with no set pattern or formation, yet with everyone doing the same motions, is called “flocking.”

 

This group activity, embodying the intention of nonviolence, felt like a combination of tai chi, yoga in motion, and Gabrielle Roth’s “flow” rhythm. All but one of the women were strangers to me, yet sharing this collective action felt like an ongoing hug from warm friends. We came together, we cared, we acted, without attachment to others’ reactions, and without fear in the night.

 

We danced not as spectacle or as separate performance, but as an extension of everyday life. Beside us, a First Nations man displayed hand-carved wooden masks, laid out on the steps for potential buyers. Electric trolley buses rattled past. From the top of the steps, a drunk man with a beer can heckled us briefly, then ignored us.

We were dancing both for ourselves and for women and children everywhere. Some in the group cried out or intoned as we danced. After forty minutes, we stopped and formed a circle. Without any planning or discussion, we each spontaneously called out words or phrases that our dance had inspired, things like “empowerment,”  “peace,” and “safety.”

 

Under a crescent moon, amidst the harsh lights and noise of the city, it was a rare opportunity to extend and experience a soulful presence. It invited us to redefine our relationships through peace, not just with others, but with ourselves.

In Sechelt on B.C.’s Sunshine Coast, about 25 women and one man danced at Trail Bay Mall in front of Clayton’s supermarket as part of One Billion Rising.  As Jan Jensen led a lively group to song lyrics that celebrated women, more than two dozen people watched and clapped in appreciation. Dance participant Wendy Crumpler says: “It was amazing: a very moving experience as well as being fun. Afterwards, there was this wonderful feeling of having done something together that was important.”

Click here to see video of One Billion Rising event in Sechelt.

As the Wilson Creek forest falls to logging, I am reminded of the simple message: “Never give up.” Otherwise, a person loses heart, a community crumbles, dreams disappear. When it seems like no one is listening and no one cares, don’t despair. There will always be people who care. And those who truly care take action.

 

About 130 such people showed up last Wednesday in front of the District of Sechelt office. Environmentalist George Smith, who was instrumental in protecting the Tetrahedron region and transforming it into a provincial park, said: “It [Sunshine Coast Community Forest] is not a community forest. It’s never been a community forest. The good old boys are running this [community forest].”

 

Smith noted that the Sunshine Coast Community Forest (SCCF), in its current form, was structured over the objections of the local community, the Sunshine Coast Conservation Association, the Sunshine Coast Regional District, and most community associations in the area. The B.C. Liberal government put it in place because they wanted to log our watershed, he added. “Get out of our watersheds and make sure that eco-forestry is practiced.”

George Smith addresses the group

Smith urged all those present to write to provincial New Democratic Party leader Adrian Dix—presumably B.C.’s next premier in May 2013—to have him revisit the structure and role of community forests. “B.C. Timber Sales should be giving their land a real community forest,” Smith said. “We should have an appropriate ecosystem and a decent forest in which we can recreate.” Listeners applauded.

Starwalker: “Let’s stay positive”

Starwalker, one of the protesters recently arrested in the Wilson Creek forest peace camp, told the group: “Let’s stay positive.” Last Friday, he appeared in a Vancouver courthouse with three other protesters. On Dec. 12, he filed a small claims court lawsuit against the RCMP and B.C. solicitor-general for not returning his food and possessions, which were confiscated when he and others received a 10-minute notice to pack up the camp or face arrest.

Barb Higgins: “It’s the same old story”

Another of the arrestees, sishalh elder Barb Higgins (Xwu’p’a’lich), told the crowd: “It’s so long since we’ve seen justice. It’s the same old story except more people are becoming aware that they are being manipulated by politicians.” She will face a judge Jan. 14 in Vernon, BC.

Within about 10 minutes, during two pass-the-hat sessions, the group donated a total of $1,000 to help with expenses related to the arrestees’ court appearances.

Event organizer Pat Ridgway addresses the group, with Barb Higgins to her right.

“We want the community put back into the community forest,” said event organizer Pat Ridgway, who asked the assembled group to direct positive energy towards the District of Sechelt building and its decision-makers. Many of the group’s placards read: “Who cut you and me out of the community forest?”

 

Local activist Scott Avery stood on a rock and directed his voice at the building, as if speaking directly to Sechelt Mayor John Henderson. “We are all members of community,” he said. “Community, to me, involves everyone.” The crowd repeated his sentences in call-and-response style, a format popular with the Occupy movement.

David Quinn (Popois)

David Quinn or Popois of the sishalt nation, a nephew of elder Theresa Jeffries and another arrestee, said: “No corporation, no society, has a right to occupy Indian and without a purchase.” (The Wilson Creek Forest is part of the sishalh’s traditional territory.) “Thank you for standing behind our elders.”

 

So far, neither Henderson nor SCCF chair Glen Bonderud has responded publicly to the protesters, nor to their letters. Not surprisingly, those seeking a more inclusive community forest board have said that Henderson and the SCCF are not listening to them. Last week’s Coast Reporter quoted the mayor as saying that “We’re not listening” truly means “We’re not agreeing.”

 

Last Thursday, CBC-TV made the Wilson Creek forest logging and arrests their top story for the 11 p.m. news. They acknowledged that the current ordeal on the Sunshine Coast is but a microcosm of what is occurring across the province. As part of this newscast, Bonderud, contacted by phone, said that our region needs jobs. In his view, logging underway in Wilson Creek provides jobs.

 

In response, Avery points out on Facebook: “Ninety-five percent of logs get shipped offshore whole this year. That means three loggers; an operational manager plus secretary; perhaps four truckers and their truck owners; perhaps four scalers and their management; perhaps four longshoremen and their management; ship crew if it is Canadian.” That leaves only log brokers and the financial markets as the “inflated beneficiaries,” he says. Avery said that overall, local forestry is operating at an excruciatingly long-term loss, especially when factoring in 60 years of non-timber forestry losses plus the social losses.

 

At a recent public meeting at Sechelt City Hall, local resident Rolef Ohlrogge stood up and asked Henderson: “Could you tell me your definition of a tree farm and a forest?” Someone at the event said that the mayor looked away, paused for a few seconds, then said, “Well, you know, things grow.”

 

Last week, I was feeling discouraged by the lack of respect and response that Henderson, Bonderud, and others have shown towards those who want to preserve our local forest and have a say in how it is managed.

 

Then, last night, I watched Anne Wheeler’s CTV movie The Horses of McBride. Based on a true story, it addressed how one caring young woman didn’t want to see two starved, abandoned horses, marooned in deep snow high in the mountains in northern B.C., die. While others, including a veterinarian, urged her to forget the animals and have them put to sleep, she refused.

 

The horse enthusiast soon won over her father to her cause. In minus-30-degree-Celsius weather, he helped her start to dig a two-metre trench in the snow, to create a pathway to lead the horses out to a road. Soon, local snowmobilers and those from neighbouring provinces appeared to provide their support. Within four days, a trench more than a kilometre long was completed, and the horses were led to warmth and safety.

 

This show reinforced to me what one person’s determination and the positive spirit of a community can do. It all starts with caring, then action. Never give up.

 

As Shannon Woode, a concerned mother who helped organize an educational walk in the Wilson Creek forest, says within a poem:

 

“May the Wilson Creek Forest become a legacy that moves us to a new beginning. May our leaders follow with open heart. May this be the last forest of awe to be slashed from history.”

 

Never give up.

                                                              — Jack Stein photo

This week, I had the pleasure of watching a five-year-old boy, camera in hand, staring up at Douglas firs, their tall tops reaching past the mist in a Sunshine Coast forest.

 

He had stretched his head far back, almost parallel to the mossy ground, as if his brain needed space just to take in the sight of these massive trees. I wondered what he was thinking, if this moment would leave a memory of awe that would remain to adulthood. More importantly: Would these trees in Wilson Creek, BC even be here in a year?

The boy was among dozens of children of all ages, one of 60 local residents who’d come to hike through, and learn about, this remarkable low-elevation forest that’s slated to be logged. Three Coast teens—Jillian Olafson, Kamilla Hindmarch, and Galen Wilson—had organized this educational hike, along with retired teacher Karen Stein, to help save these precious 27 hectares from logging.

Before the hike, at the mouth of the trailhead, we stood in a circle below the wooden sign created by Sechelt First Nations member Willard Joe, which depicts Thunderbird, a powerful protector and mystical figure.

                                                                                                      — Jack Stein photo

 

We were each invited to choose a small smooth rock, from a pile of 100 brought for this purpose, and write one word that these woods inspired in us. Soon, several rows of rocks appeared, bearing words like “Peace,” “Preserve,” and “Love.”

Jillian Olafson, young friend, Kamilla Hindmarch, Galen Wilson

“One beautiful possibility is for this part of the forest to be left as a park for us all to enjoy,” Stein told the group. “This is our community forest. You are the next generation. Today, you represent all the children who live on our coast.” When asked for one word to describe this forest, Olafson replied: “Magnificent.”

The government of B.C., which owns this land, has issued a licence to enable the District of Sechelt, as shareholder of the Sunshine Coast Community Forest, to log this forest, known as cutblock EW002. It is one of the last intact, natural forests left in the Wilson Creek watershed. Its largest tree, a Douglas fir, measures 2.31 metres across.

“This forest is much more valuable alive than clear-cut,” Hans Penner of the conservation group Elphinstone Logging Focus (ELF) told the gathering. He said he hopes that local residents of all ages who want to save this forest tell the District of Sechelt: “You’re a public body. We expect you to listen to the public.”

 

Several of the event’s teen organizers plan to meet with District of Sechelt representatives on Nov. 23 to discuss alternatives to logging this forest. “It’s a beautiful place to be,” said co-organizer Wilson. “We can’t let it (logging) happen. It would destroy everything.”

 

Some local teachers have taken students through this forest to learn about the forest’s biodiversity, thanks to informational trail signs provided by volunteers. The event’s organizers planned the hike as part of a home-schooling peace project.

 

 

ELF member Bill Legg told the children: “You guys really have a voice.” He reaffirmed the land as traditional territory of the Sechelt (shíshálh) First Nations, who have used this forest for centuries for hunting and gathering.

ELF member Ross Muirhead speaks to the group

Meanwhile, about 100 Sunshine Coast residents, including Sechelt nation members, held a rally Nov. 15 outside the District of Sechelt office, hoping to tell mayor John Henderson and city council members that these 27 hectares of forest should be protected as parkland. Although no such representatives appeared, people at the gathering, including many who had attended the forest hike in Wilson Creek, openly shared their opposition to logging this area.

 

Sunshine Coast residents who want to save this forest are urged to write letters to the local media and to the District of Sechelt. Click here to find out more through the ELF website.

On Remembrance Day, I woke up at about 4:30 a.m., unable to sleep. Oddly, I was thinking of the life expectancy of a tail-gunner in the Second World War. These men, who operated machine guns while cramped into a highly visible plexiglass bubble in the rear belly of a plane, were exceptionally vulnerable to enemy fire. I had heard that they rarely survived a week of such work. Other sources say seven weeks or two flights. Twenty thousand of such allied gunners died during the war.

 

I can’t imagine what it would be like to take on such a high-risk task, knowing with complete certainty that you would be dead within weeks. Flying so exposed at high altitudes, these men often suffered frostbite. As lookouts, if they relaxed their guard for a moment and missed seeing an enemy plane, they and their crew mates could be dead within seconds.

 

Yet so many young men willingly undertook this dangerous role. I would like to honour the courage of such men and the thousands of others at battle on land and sea, who died for the cause of freedom against fascism and Nazi power from 1939-1945. But ultimately, is any war justified?

 

Remembrance Day always brings me conflict. I admit that I enjoy freedoms now because of those who gave their lives in the past. My heart aches for those whose young sons and daughters have died in a global conflict, for the veterans who have returned, suffering from post-traumatic stress disorder and receiving little government aid.

 

Yet, I don’t support the hype around labeling dead soldiers “heroes” when they were exploited as pawns in a war for oil interests under the guise of “liberation,” as in Iraq, Afghanistan, and the Persian Gulf. I am a pacifist, committed to nonviolence. I don’t even like using the term “enemy.” I praise the nonviolent resistance movements of Martin Luther King, Jr. and Gandhi. I support the notion of ahimsa, which yoga master Kripalu describes in the following way:

 

Ahimsa is the state that exists when all violence in the heart and mind have subsided. It is not something we have to acquire; it is always present and only needs to be uncovered. When one practices ahimsa, or nonviolence, one refrains from causing distress—in thought, word or deed—to any living creature, including oneself.

 

Many people might think that this state is unattainable. Yet, we can all become more conscious of the conflict within ourselves, which we project onto others. Peace begins within. Would I be willing to take up arms in self-defence? Probably. Does that make me a hypocrite? I don’t know.

 

On Remembrance Day this year, Yoga by the Sea offered a peace meditation at the same time as the memorial ceremony held at the Legion in Roberts Creek. Dozens of people gathered to meditate, in silence, for about 40 minutes. I think that such events are a wonderful counterpoint to the honoring and continuing of war. Peace rhetoric is easy; living it is a daily challenge. Let’s all strive for peace within our hearts and share this every day, as best we can, in forms both big and small.

 

Forget her sheer talent, voluminous red hair, and soothingly smooth and craggy voice. Bonnie Raitt made her Friday night concert in Vancouver, BC a delight by her inclusive, humble presence. What other lead singer would introduce a roadie, then invite him to play guitar on one of her band’s songs?

 

Throughout her two-hour show at the Queen Elizabeth Theatre, Raitt readily gave herself over to her bandmates to let each one shine. Keyboardist Mike Finnigan shared amazing lead vocals with throaty blues on two songs. Two of her musicians – James Hutchinson on bass and drummer Ricky Fataar – have played with her for 30 years, displaying obvious abilities to quickly match Raitt’s improvisational choices. Her four-piece group, including guitarist George Marinelli, were clearly having fun with Raitt as a good friend. “I’ve missed you guys,” she told them.

 

Raitt’s new tunes, from her latest CD Slipstream, included a great reggae version of Gerry Rafferty’s Right Down the Line (I like it better than the original) and Dylan’s heartbreak song Standing in the Doorway. The latter left Raitt choked up; she shared that when that stops happening, she’ll stop playing music. Tears were pouring down the face of the woman seated next to me.

 

Raitt received numerous standing ovations throughout the night. Her 1989 CD Nick of Time is one of my favorites and she played three songs from it: Thing Called Love; Have a Heart; and I Will Not Be Denied.

 

I loved that Raitt was so honest and direct with the nearly sold-out audience. Defying society’s age hangups, especially for women, she readily admitted that she was 62. She expressed gratitude for the audience’s respect, stating that she never once saw someone’s cell phone light appear in the darkness. She reapplied lipstick several times throughout the night, sharing that she was too cheap to have someone else do her makeup and was horrified when she saw what she had looked like in a previous video.

 

I’ve admired Raitt for decades, not just for her powerhouse female presence in a male-dominated business, but for her activism in so many areas, from environmental protection to formerly providing sanctuary for El Salvadoreans during their nation’s war. (I saw her in Seattle at an unadvertised show about 25 years ago to raise money for the Sanctuary movement, which helped El Salvadoreans leave their country safely.) During the Vancouver concert, she asked: “Have you heard that we’re having an auction, an auction for president?”

 

As an encore, Raitt invited local blues rocker Colin James to join her band onstage for a few songs, along with opening act John Lee Sanders. I found keyboardist Sanders and his band ho-hum, more suited for a small dance club than a large venue like the Queen E., but I did appreciate his soulful sax-playing.

 

I’m grateful that Raitt now has her own label Redwing Records, which gives her greater power and control over her work within the music industry. I don’t much care that Rolling Stone has made her #89 on its list of 100 greatest guitarists of all time. For me, she embodies a compelling feminine mix of grace, grit, and grassroots generosity. As Will Hermes said four months ago in Rolling Stone: “Bonnie Raitt is such a class act it’s easy to forget she’s kind of badass.”

 

Awareness. Commitment. Action. One person alone can’t alter an entire economic system, but working with others who are committed to take action to change it can make a difference. That’s one of the messages of The Story of Change, the latest in environmental activist Annie Leonard’s animated video series The Story of Stuff.

 

In this six-minute short, Leonard blames bad policies and business practices for our current western economy, which values profits over people and the planet, and creates enormous inequities in taxation and income. It’s not enough, she says, to be a smart shopper and stop buying stuff that you don’t need that will end up in a landfill. We need to demand changes from politicians, regulators, and manufacturers.

 

The movie explores what effective change-making has looked like over time, presenting two world examples of successful mass change: the U.S. civil rights movement under Martin Luther King Jr., and India’s shift to independence, spurred by Mahatma Gandhi. Neither of these pivotal events of social transformation would have happened, Leonard says, if the respective leaders, King and Gandhi, had pursued their quest as loners.

Annie Leonard

She emphasizes that any significant effort to build a better future shares three key factors: a big idea, a commitment to work together, and the ability to turn the big idea and commitment into action.

 

I wholly agree, and yet the movie fails to acknowledge the value and power of inner growth and change, which often creates the launching pad for external action. The spiritual beliefs of both King and Gandhi were major influences behind their desire for change and their commitment to peaceful resistance. If King and Gandhi were themselves violent people, they could not have inspired and led others towards peace and dramatic social change. Their inner change had to come first.

 

That’s one reason, in my view, why many collective attempts at change fail. The so-called leaders haven’t done enough inner growth work (whether it’s in aid of maturity, anger management, compassion, forgiveness, love etc) to walk the talk and inspire others without creating emotional meltdowns, hatred, resentments, and disillusionment. The resulting hypocrisy and contradictions between their espoused views and goals and their daily behavior become too discordant for many followers, who often quit in disgust.

 

 

As they say: Never underestimate the power of one human being to make a difference. As Gandhi said: “We must be the change we want to see in the world.” Someone’s presence, demeanour, and attitude, even with no words spoken, can alter any atmosphere or group.

 

I believe in the approach Heal Yourself, Heal the World. Yet, as Leonard points out, it’s not enough to remain isolated after changing yourself for the good. Only when you join with like-minded others for a larger cause can widespread change take place.

 

What kind of change agent are you — networker or nurturer, builder or resister? Discover your “changemaker personality type” (communicator, builder, networker, nurturer, investigator or resister) in the short quiz following the video.

One of the photos from my Pecha Kucha presentation, taken of Tibetans  protesting the torch relay in San Francisco for the 2008 Beijing Olympics.

Fun with mouldy food. Road kill. Keeping communities creative. These three topics hardly seem to share a theme, yet they all came together last month in a wonderful visual presentation in Gibsons, BC.

 

As part of the town’s first Pecha Kucha night, nine Sunshine Coast residents each shared about six minutes of photos and storytelling on any subject of their choice. The rules were simple: 20 images, 20 seconds on each. This format, which draws its name from the Anglicized version of the Japanese term for “chit-chat,” started in Tokyo in 2003.

 

The Pecha Kucha framework began as a dynamic way for designers and architects to share their work in public without droning on about every miniscule detail; the images are programmed to switch automatically every 20 seconds, beyond the control of the speakers. Today, hundreds of cities around the world have hosted Pecha Kucha nights, drawing on the collective creativity and talent of their communities.

 

The Gibsons event made for a delightful evening of storytelling, from wry irreverency to poignant homage. Gibsons councillor Lee Ann Johnson started off with Creating Community Glue, followed by artist Junco Jan, who gave a heartfelt tribute to her recently deceased mother. Photographer Alan Sirulnikoff shared images as symbols of life and death while puppeteer Sandy Buck introduced her creations under the title Can Puppets Change the World? Photographer Barry Haynes showed local beauty shots of lesser-known getaways, taken from land and water, and had the audience guess the location of each. Coast Reporter arts reviewer Jan DeGrass explained her love of dance while Lou Guest gave comic close-ups of mouldy food in her piece, The Hairy Eyeball.

 

I was amazed to discover a talented, young glass artist, Robert Studer, who lives in my own community of Roberts Creek. I had never even heard of him before, even though he just lives across the highway and up the hill from me. He presented some of the large-format glass installations he’s done in public spaces and private homes, which resembled wavy lines of multi-coloured sky and giant other-worldly spheres. Incredible!

 

As a presenter, I was surprised at how nervous I was beforehand, because I usually enjoy public speaking and feel at ease with it. But the thought of this twenty-second time frame had me unnerved. Originally, I was going to do the whole thing ad lib, but decided to prepare a text in case I blanked out. In the end, I half read and half ad-libbed.

 

The packed house at The Arts Building was indeed appreciative, whistling and hollering after their favourites. Emcee Wendy Crumpler, who organized the event and spent many hours preparing the presentations on computer, created a warm, welcoming, and upbeat atmosphere. Much-appreciated thanks to her, all participants, and the audience. This made a great addition to the local arts scene.

 

(My evening’s contribution, Three Protests: Free Speech on the Street, can be viewed on YouTube.)

 

 

 

At the start of this new year, after we in the west have enjoyed restful holidays with loved ones, how many of us are thinking of the plight of those in Syria?

 

A few nights ago, my husband and I watched disturbing footage, posted on YouTube and shown on CNN, of two police officers, with guns, stuffing a man into the trunk of a car in daylight, in the middle of a street. Another man, presumably a friend, was trying to pull the man out of the trunk. This man, clad in white, had blood stains on his upper shoulder. About a dozen people were near the vehicle.

 

The footage, shot by a Syrian citizen from an overhead balcony, ended soon after. That image stayed with me for days. Did the man escape? Did his friend save him? Were both men detained and later killed? This image made me think of so many places where similar scenes have occurred under repression, from Latin America to elsewhere in the Middle East.

 

In Syria, the police are not only torturing and killing adults, but children too. Thousands of civilians risk their lives every day, facing police bullets and tear gas, to meet in public and demand democracy and an end to their government’s brutal rule. Many are doubly risking their lives by videotaping the horrors unfolding in the streets. Snipers have killed plenty of them.

 

On this first day of 2012, I want to express the utmost admiration for the people in Syria and elsewhere who are displaying tremendous courage every day. I think of the bravery of that man, trying to save the other at huge risk to himself, and of what love and friendship will compel us to do at such dangerous times. That willingness to risk life for that of another, even a stranger, is what gives me hope for the human race. That quality is what promotes peace.

 

Here, in a land where most of us take democracy for granted, even though it has eroded phenomenally in recent years, I salute those two primary qualities, so commodified since the 1960s: love and peace. Let’s see more of both this year. They start with each of us.

Occupy Vancouver tents on their last day by the art gallery (Nov. 21)

I applaud how Vancouver, BC mayor Gregor Robertson handled the recent dismantling of Occupy Vancouver. Unlike some mayors in U.S. cities (e.g. Portland and Oakland), he deserves tremendous credit for avoiding riot squads, confrontation and violent clashes on the occupiers’ final day in front of the art gallery (Nov. 21). Thankfully, the occupiers, too, remained peaceful as they left.

On the morning of their last day in that location, I asked one young man, who was holding high a “Vive la Revolution” sign, if he expected the occupiers’ 2 p.m. departure to be violent. He told me: “Part of me hopes so.”

I watched a half-dozen occupiers take apart their tents at 11:30 a.m., two-and-a-half hours before the city had ordered them gone. The atmosphere was relaxed. A man with a throaty voice and lone guitar was singing “Democracy” at the main microphone. A handful of city officials and uniformed policed mingled with occupiers, standing on the outskirts of the mini tent city. One young man with a painted face walked up to three officers and told them “I’m glad you’re here.”

Song sparrows chittered in the trees at the corner of Georgia and Hornby. From a block away, my stomach felt the pounding, visceral beat of drums. A small group of first nations men and women had formed a circle of seats at Georgia and Granville and were drumming, with bold, rhythmic power, to protest the police handling of the murders of women who went missing on Vancouver’s Downtown Eastside. “I want to know what happened to my sister,” a native man said into a microphone, standing on the downtown intersection that the city had closed in preparation for protest.

The occupiers’ camp had helped spawn this display of free speech. Hurray for such an open lament. An expert in social movements, quoted recently in Canadian Press, has said that Occupy is the most important democratic social movement of the last two generations and that demonstrators who have taken over parks and other public spaces should be left alone. Occupy Wall Street has said: “You can’t evict an idea whose time has come.”

“We’re observing a process of commercializing and privatizing public space, and we should be outraged by it,” says Vincent Mosco, professor emeritus of sociology at Queen’s University. “But we don’t hear about limits on public space until a genuine public movement raising significant political issues decides to make use of public space.”

 

“I hope it [Vancouver’s Occupy movement] is not dead,” environmental leader David Suzuki told about 100 people at his foundation’s Elders’ Forum, held Nov. 24 at the downtown Vancouver Public Library. Democracy is tough, he added, and today’s young occupiers need the helping hand of elders to tell them what roots they’re coming from.

“They’re trying to be different in having no leaders but that’s doomed in the world we’re living,” he said. Suzuki visited the occupy camps in Vancouver and Montreal, but he must have missed the occupiers’ elders’ tent in his home city. At a morning breakout session in his own day-long forum, several female seniors spoke in favor of the occupy movement and its desire for grassroots change. They might not have had tents pitched with the occupiers, but their hearts were alongside them.

Both individually and as a society, as we face daily challenges of injustice and inequities, we all have a basic choice to make: What will we use to motivate our thoughts and actions – love or fear? Do we choose peace or conflict? This sounds ridiculously simple, yet look at how fear fuels much, if not most, of human behavior around the world.

I like what Charles Eisenstein, author of Sacred Economics, says in the five-minute documentary excerpt of Occupy Love, produced by Velcrow Ripper. We need a healing world of peace that works for everyone. People, whether they’re part of the 99 or one per cent, flourish in an atmosphere of joint creativity, intimacy, community, and open communication, where life has meaning. We can all create such a world. Let’s start now. Occupy Love.

    — photos by Heather Conn