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Glen Pearson

How Do You Measure Grief?

Posted on June 28, 2018

I spent some of morning yesterday speaking to a remarkable group of global academics, psychologists and numerous knowledgeable leaders from a variety of fields and who get together every two years in various locations around the world two discuss the implications of some of humanity’s greatest sadness.? This year they were in Canada.

Officially titled the International Work Group on Death, Dying and Bereavement, I realized I was standing before a gathering of activists who seek to not only understand grief but to influence policymakers who hold the responsibility of improving the global conditions that lead to such earthly pain.? It was a challenge just to be in their midst; to address them was more than a little intimidating.

If we desired to understand just how the effects of grief and dying play out in our world, this group would be a good place to start.? We talked about how the world is becoming more grief-stricken in recent years due to our inability to overcome those challenges that result in tragedy – climate change, refugees, war and conflict, economic and gender inequities, and just plain bad and ineffective politics.? Some of us talked after my presentation, wondering that, if there was a way to measure the grief our present world was bearing, what would we find??There seemed to be a consensus emerging that it would be heavier and far more tragic that we might imagine.

It’s impossible to speak of such things without searching for solutions, and it’s virtually impossible to talk about answers without talking public policy – and that brings us naturally to our politics.? Right now, politics and governing structures around the world are facing imposing challenges that could sooner rather than later see everything spinning out of control.?Prosperity, peace, global agreement – such things are never a given and must be fought for.? For that we require a political leadership of the highest order.?We are still waiting for it.

And maybe that’s the problem: instead of waiting around for leadership we should be providing it ourselves – taking the kind of collective action that forces the political order to get out into the real world in ways that connect with suffering and humanity.?All this will require that we greatly improve our capacity to connect with one another and show the maturity required to work together to bring the “grief threshold” down substantially.

Those best to make their mark on a grieving world are not the politicians, nor the bureaucrats, nor the bankers or academics, but those who know grief, still have it in their bones, carry it around all day and have had their life reshaped by it.? Only when they, motivated by their own deep sense of loss reach out to those suffering collective grief at unimaginable levels, ?will we see the results.? As Washington Irving put it:

“I should know enough about loss to realize that you never really stop missing someone-you just learn to live around the huge gaping hole of their absence. There is a sacredness in tears. They are not the mark of weakness, but of power. They speak more eloquently than ten thousand tongues.”

It is when these tongues, deeply acquainted with the personal torment of loss, speak for the world of the grieving that humanity closes the loop, bringing people of understanding together.? In carrying on our own grief with an eye towards a broader humanity we bring to a hurting world the kind of healing that no law, legislator, diplomat or researcher can hope to provide.? It is in empowering the grieving within civil society to reach out in understanding to a broader dimension that we can begin the process of better dealing with the world’s trauma.

Can we measure the world’s grief?? Likely not.?But we can pull alongside it, bringing companionship and a sense of justice for those thrust into loss through political events not of their own making but that still require consolation and action ?Perhaps some commentators are correct in saying the grief the world is bearing today is unlike anything in recent memory, but it’s time to speak up for those who have tragedy thrust upon them by politics, injustice and evil.?And there’s no one better to lead that charge than an army of citizens who have endured personal grief and been empowered through the process to reach out and heal a broader world struggling in its own sense of unimaginable loss.

Is An Ethical Economy No Longer Possible?

Posted on June 26, 2018

Soon enough we’ll be entering into an economic period where we’ll be informed that we can no longer afford those things we believe important.? Climate change, poverty, affordable housing, mental health, effective employment, post-secondary education, investments in home-grown businesses – these cost too much, we will be informed, and to create a competitive economy we must learn to let such aspirations ?go.? Which is kind of funny, since Canada has more wealth running through than at any time in our history.

These aren’t merely aspirational desires but fundamental necessities for any modern society to flourish and to be told we can no longer afford them is both a lie and an insult.?These are investments – down payments on our present capacity and our future promise for our children.? To rip such things out of citizen vocabulary is to close a promise on a democracy that we supposedly cherish and still wish to live by.

There was a time when such things were seen as moral and ethical pursuits for both governments and economies alike.? That was before the rationale of bottom-line economies transcended societal necessity and we’ve been falling farther behind ever since.

We’ve tossed “morality” aside as a word or even as a concept because it reminds us of a preachy kind of past when things like religion or dogmatism got too involved in telling us how to live.? The trouble is that we have little to replace the term.? We speak of ethics, corporate social responsibility, social justice – these are noble in themselves, but still lack the connection between misbehaving and punishment.? That hesitancy has permitted economic decisions to be made that wreak havoc on the social order with no accountability.? Economics has become increasingly about efficiency, supply and demand, and, above all, the profit margin instead of human good, environmental sustainability and public accountability.

We have permitted ourselves to sink into a kind of existence where morality has become passé?just as our economics results in immoral behaviours and outcomes. ?How much longer will we just accept the imperatives of economic growth over the general welfare of society?? Should we continue to tolerate a financial management style that maintains that the loss of good jobs is the price we must all accept if we want future prosperity?

We’ve been at this long enough now to discern that it’s not working out for us, or anybody else, except for the very few.? It isn’t merely a trade-off between jobs and wealth, but rather what is best for humanity versus what is crushing it.? In the end, it is only humanity that we hold that is our greatest possession.

It might be interesting to note that the term “moral” is working its way back into our language, largely because the damage created by our modern economies is harmful enough since it repeatedly crosses the line between what’s tolerable and what is simply wrong.? Something that serious – a practice so pernicious that leaves such dysfunction in its wake – warrants an historic term upon which to be measured against.? Moral or immoral fills that need.

A moral economy or an ethical financial architecture could never turn its back on the loss of jobs or place its own benefit over that of billions of others.? Most vital of all, an economy linked to human and not just economic progress would recognize climate change for what it is: an all-too-common condition created by corporations and citizens alike.? The action of voters electing immoral leaders in order to achieve moral outcomes can only end in chaos.

No political or financial leader should ever compel societies to sacrifice those things they value most – education, healthcare, ecological balance, desire for an affluent existence – in order to achieve economic benefit.? Any other field of interest would term such an imposition as immoral.

Michelle Obama noted a short while ago that, “I have learned that as long as I hold fast to my beliefs and values – and follow my own moral compass – then the only expectations I need to live up to are my own.”? But that’s just the problem: what about everyone else’s hopes and expectations??Those personal values must be joined with those of others if a just society is to be won and held.

The longer we take to press for a more equitable economy the longer our politics will dominate us. ?The result of our tardiness is now becoming apparent and our governing forces won’t press for the changes required unless we do. ? That’s how democracy works and is meant to function.

Morality is a societal resource just as it is a personal one.? It is only when we recognize that reality and gather together around those shared values that a moral economy can be achieved.? Stay independent and separate and the only economic order we will ever know or live under will lead to a future of diminished returns.

 

 

 

 

 

Wounded Warrior

Posted on June 24, 2018

I caught his stare as I was brought into the House of Commons for the first time and just couldn’t read it.? It was late-2006, shortly after I had won a by-election as a Liberal in London, Ontario.? Paul Dewar had entered the House as a newcomer for the NDP only a few months before.? I had known of him prior to my political tenure, but seeing his face that day left me with no doubt that he was a fighter of some kind.

A couple of hours later we passed one another in the Opposition Lobby and he introduced himself.? Taller than me, he looked vigorous, contained, and somewhat intense.? We sat on the same side of the House and frequently voted the same way on various bills before us.

Dewar was on a mission – one that didn’t begin with his election but had fueled him for years prior to political tenure.? His mother, Marion, had been well-known as both the Mayor of Ottawa and MP for the NDP.? Paul’s fighting spirit emerged early, when in Grade Three he had troubled reading and writing due to dyslexia.? He worked his way through those challenges, eventually earning a Bachelor of Arts degree from Carleton University and Bachelor of Education degree from Queens, becoming a teacher.

He discovered a deep sense of purpose when volunteering as an aid worker in Nicaragua.? Returning to teaching, he was eventually awarded by Queens for his dedication to working with special needs students.? His list of activities following that point is long and impressive, but what they all had in common was a spirit of advocacy.? He was a battler and it was only a matter of time until he ended up in Parliament.

To our delight, Paul and I worked well together on the Foreign Affairs and International Trade Committee.? We shared a keen interest in Africa and supported one another in various initiatives to assist that troubled continent.? At one point the committee had reached a stalemate and we both exited into the hallway and attempted to hammer out a compromise between our positions.? It worked and the motion was passed.? I came to trust in that instinct of Paul’s, that he could find compromise if it was fair and also came from a place of honest endeavour.

At one point I had a light lunch with NDP leader Jack Layton in the fifth-floor restaurant in Centre Block and he shared with me that his party was always full of fighters, but that Paul Dewar brought in a kind of international expertise and commitment that the party occasionally lacked.? “Help him when you can, Glen,” he offered.? “He’s totally committed to his work.”

And that’s just how it turned out.? When he ran for the NDP leadership after we both had left the House, I send word to him that I would be glad to see him in London and supported what he was trying to accomplish, especially in overseas matters.? Though he said we’d grab a coffee, we didn’t get to hook up because of his heavy schedule, but did communicate by email.

It was with a real and deep sadness that I learned of Paul’s diagnosis of terminal grade 4 glioblastoma cancer – the same cancer that took Gord Downey not long ago.? In typical fashion, he announced the prognosis to the world and affirmed that he would spend his remaining time supporting grassroots youth movements.

All of this has been deeply moving for me, as I continue to reflect on his activism and his fitting role as critic for Foreign Affairs in the House while he was there.? He was always struggling, always railing against injustice, always attempting to bring voices into the political system that otherwise might have remained isolated without such a champion.? He will forever remain in my memory as a wounded warrior – bearing the scars of those who history had frequently marginalized and who politics refused to engage.

And now he bears the final wounds of his own.? He faces his own departure by focusing on newly arrived young minds and spirits who need to know that public service is worth the effort and that a better world must be created by better policies.? He is like many other politicians in that he cares for his country and the place of the marginalized within it.? But he is more than that.? His years in the House were preceded by a lifetime of struggle for social justice and he brought that experience to the centre of the nation’s political interest.? He was never my foe, but always my friend.? I was 13 years his senior, but he was the better, more mature person and I learned from him.

In those seasons when we’re increasingly tempted to tear down politicians and their actions, we should remember people like Paul Dewar – public servants who brought a deep humanity to politics and who seamlessly carried on with that essence long after politics has ended.? Fight on, Paul.? More is yet to be done and we still require champions for a more equitable world.

War Under the Peace Tower

Posted on June 24, 2018

In the parliamentary calendar, it is inevitable that the subject of Question Period’s dysfunction will emerge, often with a twinge of anger. It’s happening again in these last few days, led by the Toronto Star researching into the veracity and truthfulness of that one time in the House where the government must account for its actions, or lack of them. To that must be added the insights of Star reporter Tonda MacCharles, who notes that Question Period’s 45-minute duration is really just a regurgitation of talking points, ad nauseum. Bruce Campion-Smith and Sabrina Nanji of the same newspaper put a fitting point on it by asking just how is it that an important political event designed to hold the government accountable has become an exhausting piece of political theatre?

As with anything the pops up repeatedly, we grow tired with the sense of hopelessness of it all. Governments come and go, yet Question Period seems in perpetual decline. Arthur Rimbaud noted that, “Life is a farce when everyone has to perform.” Perhaps that’s just it: QP isn’t about inquiry and accountability but optics and image. Actually, there’s no “perhaps” about it; that’s what it has become – theatre, but the kind no one wants to watch anymore. Maybe by permitting cameras into the great Chamber of Parliament years earlier what we eventually got instead of open politics was operatic parody.

Conservative David Tilson and I served on the Privacy and Access to Information Committee for a time in Parliament. Even back then, in 2007, he was one of the longest-serving MPs in the House. I liked and respected him, in part because he rarely participating in any of the faux tirades that often materialize when the camera goes on. He was a straight shooter and our working relationship was amicable.

So, a smile inevitably crossed my lips when I read this week in the Star that he simply refused to utter a single word in QP. His reason? “I listen to the answers that are given by the minister in the Liberal government and it’s just garbage. If I stood up and asked a question, I guarantee you 100 per-cent that it will not be answered.”

He’s right, of course, but when he reflects on just how much better things were in the Harper government his observation goes from honesty to hilarity. Does he not recall just how bad things were back then – the yelling, name calling, contempt of Parliament, slurs and outright mendacity? Of course, he does. In my five years in the House, career civil servants, and not a few journalists, would note that things hadn’t been so bad in recent memory.

Anyone from the opposition parties daring to ask a Conservative minister a question in those years got one of two responses: name-calling or refusal to answer. Folow-up queries only got the same result. We all witnessed the shock in the vistor galleries as people stared on in fascination or disgust. The site of teachers covering the ears of their young students in those same galleries only added to the sense that Parliament wasn’t only declining into mayhem but, ultimately, a lack of relevance.

The Harper government was highly effective at obfuscation, just as the Trudeau government is today, but it’s difficult to read Tilson refuse to acknowledge that equivalency. One recalls the sincere and noble efforts of various MPs, most especially Conservative Michael Chong, to bring some sense of respect and accountability to QP and how such attempts were lauded, but eventually shelved.

The truth is that Question Period has been hacked – not by Russian techies or Facebook algorithms, but through the concerted efforts of unelected political handlers who view that 45-minute period during the day as a zero-sum game. For the government side the secret is to evade at all costs, to avoid liabilities, to appear in control. Opposition handlers use every attempt to denigrate those governments the people themselves have elected. Either way it’s war under the Peace Tower and it’s demeaning as long as it is tolerated by those meant to engender respect within the governing system.

Year after year sees ongoing decline in QP behavior, not just in Canada but in democratic institutions around the world. Sometimes farce can be a good thing, illuminating inconsistencies and failures. Then again, it can drain the very life out of democracy with its emptiness and pettiness. Writer V. S. Pritchett understood the distinction: “The difference between farce and humour in literature is that farce strums louder and louder on one string, while humour varies its notes, changes its key, grows and spreads and deepens until it may indeed reach tragic depths.”

It would be correct to suppose that we have sunk to those tragic depths, not through nuance, respect or intelligence, but through brutality, utter silence, or and continual one string responses.

Progressivism hangs on inquiry and transparency. At the moment, Question Period isn’t the place to discover such things. It is what it is and will remain so until everyone stops pretending.

London’s Ivory Tower Breaks Its Bubble

Posted on June 21, 2018

Secure in the lush surroundings of north-central London, Western University, despite its size and strategic importance to the city, can appear an island unto itself?— bustling and creative, to be sure, but nevertheless isolated.?Londoners have come to take it for granted without realizing how much the university has transformed in just the past decade.

In essence, the world has come to Western and its host city in numbers likely unknown in the broader community.

Ten years ago (2007-2008), the university had 24,071 students, with only 1,303 from other countries. Today, the international component numbers more than 4,500 full-time students coming from 121 countries. This quiet revolution has brought a global dynamic and diversity to Western’s classrooms in ways that introduce Canadian students to a broader world filled with opportunity, challenge and awareness, inspiring them to enrol in programs to study abroad.

In that same decade, as the country sought new interactions with Indigenous communities, Western University developed an Indigenous strategic plan?that informs both Canadian and international students of the importance of the file to Western’s outlook.

The plan is centred around inclusion, understanding and a series of benchmarks designed to infuse university life with Indigenous culture — things like the Indigenous Mentorship Network Program of Ontario, a Western-based hub dedicated to Indigenous health training and led by geography professor Chantelle Richmond. A decade ago this was only a dream; today, Western is on a course of healing, restoration and learning.

A key to understanding the university’s change is to consider the transformation in leadership.

Of those responsible for the overall functioning of the university, 65 per cent are women. On the academic team, three women are on the provost’s senior leadership team and five out of Western’s 11 deans are women. Such representation has been in the works for years, providing guidance more reflective of modern realities.

There remains a tendency to believe universities are like ivory towers, with teachers and students transporting through life in a bubble of their own making. It’s a sentiment that runs the risk of keeping us unaware of Western’s larger reach into the community.

Through a range of vigorous programs, university resources spread out into London and area in fields ranging from music instruction to tutoring, from holistic health services to child literacy, from career development to coding for girls, and from business expertise to urban farming.

The list is far lengthier, but the picture becomes clear that the university’s impact at all levels of civic life is empowering. One business leader made the interesting observation last week that it’s difficult to find any significant effort of collaboration in London that doesn’t have a Western adviser or researcher attached to it.

Just this month, the university holds its fourth annual World’s Challenge Challenge, where teams of students from Canada and around the world come to Western to compete. The task is imposing: present a problem facing the world and develop a plan to solve it. Three prizes are awarded ($30,000, $15,000 and $7,500) and the entire initiative reveals just how aware today’s students are of the broader world and its challenges.

Quietly, resolutely, Western University has been transforming itself from the inside in ways few of us have heard of or care to notice. It is as vital to our community as ever.

Being as large as it is, the campus, as with any large institution, will remain an object of criticism. But it also must be seen as?a centre of learning seeking to shape its future along the lines contained in the observation of Wendy Koop, the American founder of Teach for All: “The lack of diversity in higher education is a problem we as a country must tackle if we’re going to live to our promise.”

Western is seeking to confront that problem in ways that not only challenge our city but the rest of the world.

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