Sunday, 25 July 2010

testy? cranky? or is it mere rage?

Up, Down, Appendices, Postscript.

Ballard Streetand the crazy old fuck is still smilin' :-)a very old and dear friend says to me after a silence of ... years, "I never dumped you. I just backed away from your rage." what can I respond to that? rage? I dunno ... hell! I can't remember back that far? what did I do? what did I say? I guess I could wish she had taken it up with me at the time but maybe she did? this Alzhiemer's thing is embraceable alright, in a Buddhist kinda' way, everything is ever and always new ... but it has a definite down side,

but respond or not - she is not the only one who turns away, God too!

made me cranky and I began giving up on capital 'G' god altogether, even invented a term 'de-morphing' for the recycling of it from 'God' to 'god' and thought about publishing this nonsense on Mondays instead of Sundays, didn't, discovered no good reason to use the word with a capital letter in public anyway unless you've got something to prove ... all quite silly, obviously just a nit-wit, easily captured and obsessed with the trivial, simple enough to be convinced by the argument of the Watchmaker, that turned out to be some kind of heresy, ok, I found other arguments, not a waste of time at all, highly entertaining, eventually turned to reasons instead of arguments, be that as it may - God has about gone silent on me, the voice is mostly gone, delivered over the shoulder, and not just the voice either, the vision is dimmer too, either sunset or I guess I've gone crazy!

(zen take him to ze headshrinker! which is what they do with Riff in West Side Story , what comes to mind is whoever it was that fell through the hole in the flag in Hair? Berger was it?)

but still (revealing vestigial issues), I'm irritated by certain ... facile criticisms? ... I read Christopher Hitchen's God Is Not Great recently, slagging the Bible seems like throwing out the baby with the bathwater, I will post a few excerpts if I can get the scanner going again ... even my favourite, André Dahmer, seems to have stepped off the edge with his latest:
We don't need weapons, we can transform people with books.
What will change a man more? Pablo Neruda or a shot in the balls?
But maybe it's possible to castrate a man with a book ...
Read the Bible.

okokok, the kiddie diddling priests with a trail leading all the way down to the pope himself (he definitely does not get a capital 'P' anymore!), the refusal to endorse or distribute condoms, the priests who conspired in the Rwandan genocide, the obvious failure of the christian church to live up to any sort of christian ideal (nope, no capital on christian anymore either), nevermind 'live up to' they are not even trying (beyond a certain kind of biblical castration maybe :-) blah blah blah and moslems are no better blah blah blah ... but it sure enough adds up - is this what they made of their Jesus Christ? is this what they made of the Good Samaritan? wankers!

here's a theory for you: it has to be transcendence one way or the other, nothing else will do, some kind of physiological imperative in action maybe demanding it? who cares what? and if you transcend the flatland via Shakespeare ("love is not love which alters when it alteration finds") or fuzzy-logic concepts & paradigms and what-not makes no difference either, meditation, flagellation, or even drugs I suppose, you can get liminal somehow, God whispers something completely incomprehensible, not to mention at the very threshold of audibility, you get a flash or a flicker, probably just incipient retinal detachment but who can say? but it's yours and yours alone and the mavens of correctitude can hate you for it and life can go on, all good.

Peter CareyPeter CareyPeter CareyPeter CareyPeter CareyI did follow up on Peter Carey, the speech I mentioned closing the Sydney Writers' Festival, even his stumbling mumbling & choking is eloquent, and with a minimum of twisting & distortion you can make it fit in with transcendence, you do have to actually watch the video of course, and I looked at Wim Wenders' awful film Until the end of the world which Carey co-wrote, you can download it here if you want, Wenders is fascinated with computer transformations, not only in this film but Land of plenty as well, sorry Wim but that's just not transcendence :-)

Stephen Haffin Carey's speech he mentions Stephen Haff, who brings himself, by a commodius vicus of recirculation, back to Still Waters in a Storm, I think they need donations & I think they deserve 'em too :-)

of course I'm going to mention Dylan Thomas and quote his
Do not go gentle into that good night,
Old age should burn and rave at close of day;
Rage, rage against the dying of the light.
the poem was written in 1951, a few years before his death, after Hiroshima & Nagasaki but before the days of JFK & hard rain, even so he was not quite looking extinction full in the face was he? it was still a metaphor wasn't it? it is still a metaphor isn't it?

I know a little girl she lives upstairs tryin' to make a livin' by puttin' on airs :-)so ... yeah ... rage. only one worse than me is probably, dunno ... James Inhofe? but what I do know is we missed a chance, does it really matter if it was through rage or forbearance? more like we didn't really want the chance, here, hum a few bars of this, Step It Up And Go,

I know a little girl she lives upstairs
Tryin' to make a livin' by puttin' on airs.

Front door shut, back door too,
Blinds pulled down, what'cha gonna do?

ArizonaI am working on it ok? digging and delving, big head breech birth & forceps, mother badly broken up, head-shrinker says I was blamed for existing, undt zat iss where ze neurotic incontinence comes from yah! but maybe he exaggerates, maybe it is just ADD & smoking? and a bruised arm which still aches 65 years later, on the other hand I met a Brasilian kid whose collar-bone, clavícula, was broken by forceps about the same way, no one noticed until it was too late, his arm permanently gimped, and he has turned out ok so far, better than ok, and on the symmetry side maybe naming hurt and anger as two sides of a coin (which is a useful insight) needs to name guilt as the reeded edge ... work in progress,

I can't say it any better than this, "we must love one another or die."

you ARE fucking crazy! amphetamines!? :-)it is very slow work, not speeded up by failing memory, not entirely stopped by it either though, slow but sort of steady, like writing on amphetamines :-)

and ... humm ... this Internet is maybe not the best place to do it I am wondering, you have to be all the time thinking about not saying too much, sure there is a kind of honesty about speaking in public, but there are two kinds (at least) of care and here, the negative kind tends to take over ...

Fumo sim.Divine Wrath Aheadand anyway you know, so what? rage you say? is it being acted out then? is that it? does it figure somewhere on the scale between Hiroshima, Auschwitz, & Rwanda? is it a transmogrification to Viking Berserker fury? to Werewolf? is murder being committed? is it the turning of of the humble mathematician in Straw Dogs? rape? assault? property damage? are windows being smashed? doors slammed? are feelings being hurt? is that it? are feelings being hurt in an ideological mangle where hurt feelings come from being intentionally misunderstood? or the 'intention' was imagined maybe? from being misunderstood period? from not being listened to because you are stupid or inarticulate or crazy? is that it?

Honey Barbara crucifix in the swarm of bees.wrath is one of the Seven Deadly alright & figures in the Four Horsemen and all'a that, and with good reason I suppose ... oh my ... but maybe there is comfort in the notion that in all this secular flatness courage is still a virtue, at least according to Charles Taylor, the odd person finds a way through, not an acceptable or comfortable way necessarily (thinking of Ivan Illich) but a way nonetheless, a Tao let's say ... look at this girl, Honey Barbara/Helen Jones, one boob covered in bees, standing like a cross, how crazy is that? The Vision Splendid, but crazy doesn't figgure into it really except maybe for the aforementioned mavens, the struggle takes place somewhere else entirely, could be somewhere like Bob's "hollow place where martyrs weep and angels play with sin."

MordredMordredwhatever was slouching towards Bethlehem in Yeats' poem has gotten there already and been born, has grown up and taken control of most of the reins and levers and switches of political power, Kurt Vonnegut's PPs, his Pathological Personalities are firmly in the driver's seat,

so, taking flac on rage? well, could I please have a little Yin with that Yang? to stir into my Wuji? ... it didn't have to be this way did it? there were insights, warnings and warnings and warnings starting well before I was born (Yeats' The Second Coming was published in 1920), so what if much later on science checked in to confirm? science is cold comfort eh? and ... yeah, it seems natural to be ... angry?

its OK, calm down, Obama's gonna' save us :-)tell you what - at this point what utterly confuses me (all to fuck!) is that so few are raging?

Pierre Trudeau once dismissed tribalism as 'mere' and Yeats did the same with anarchy in this poem, I was younger then and took these judgements up too easily, it was a mistake, Trudeau was subtly wrong about tribalism and Yeats is subtly wrong about anarchy ... comes out in the details.

We cold people have heated up this planet.the distinguished Senators of the k-k-Canadian Senate, the silly dinosaurs, have let Bill C-311 fall through a crack so they could get away on vacation, doh?!

I posted a list of their names & email addresses here, send 'em a note and tell 'em they're FIRED!

a note on procedure that I was not aware of, best to send individual emails rather than a single one with a list of copies, apparently the latter method is open to spam detection, didn't know that ...


the billboard is by an outfit called Corporate Ethics International who have picked up Ed Stelmach's gauntlet with a campaign to Rethink Alberta, and from the looks of the pooh-poohs here and there in the press maybe they are having an effect, here's their video: Rethink Alberta ... this is interesting, the Financial Post published a factual descriptive piece (U.S. environmental group warns tourists to avoid Alberta) without value judgements, while the Gazette, the only English-language liberal paper left in Quebec published this whingeing shite,
but the knife cuts both ways, we have Andrew Nikiforuk indulging (it seems to me) his rage and not informing the policy/economic dabate much if at all, so shrill ... and like Naomi Klein he 'praises with faint damning' which is a veritable vaccine against meaningful thought on the issue, he's now got himself a position at Tyee I understand, another gaggle of incompetent west-coast leftards à la NORML Marijuana Lobby, don't get me wrong, I love hippies, love to see 'em on the street, strung out and murmuring "help the poor" as they hold out a cup, but as I have quoted here once or twice before, "I seen pretty people disappear like smoke" ...

Robert SemrauRobert SemrauRobert SemrauRobert SemrauRobert SemrauLouis-Vincent d'AuteuilMunir SheikhMunir SheikhMunir Sheikh
a-and finally, I am pleased to discover some Canadian men with balls, compassion, integrity, and a modicum of fairness: Captain Robert Semrau, Munir A. Sheikh, and (maybe even) Judge Lieutenant-Colonel Louis-Vincent d'Auteuil, here's Munir's letter ... oops! it has since been explained to me that the good judge may have had little to do with it - it was a panel of five who determined the verdict, oh well, maybe d'Auteuil set the tone at least.

Shirley SherrodShirley SherrodCharles SherrodCharles SherrodRoger SpoonerEloise Spoonerokokok, one more, here's a bit of a bio of Shirley Sherrod and here she is speaking truth to the NAACP, she says, "I might say a little bit more to the young people, it's good to have you all here," and she says a lot more too,

she may say "you know" too much and she may not have the big picture on 100% mortgages, she may even brag a bit on herself, she may even be one of those bourgeois mavens of correctitude I was talking about, but in this story there is a change for the better and a willingness to change more still and to tell it like you flat-out see it, and that's good, even through the "blood-dimmed tide" I can see that much,

be well.

passage de la décroissancepassage de la décroissancepassage de la décroissance
(love those spirals!)

The Situation in Zinigistan:
Malvados Xoxotas
You only think about shooting? Why not fuck some cunts.
Yes! Yes! Yes! Yes! Yes! Yes! Yes! Yes!
I didn't say shoot and fuck cunts at the same time, you monster!

1. It’s all about love, art and schools of fish, Stephen Haff, April 21 2010.
2-1. U.S. environmental group warns tourists to avoid Alberta, John Shmuel, July 14 2010.
2-2. Oil patch reeling from unfair attacks, L. Ian MacDonald, July 18 2010.
2-3. Washington Post Paid Advertisement, Ed Stelmach, July 1 2010.
2-4. Canada: The Saudi Arabia of the North?, Andrew Nikiforuk, July 7 2010.
3. Media advisory: 2011 Census, Munir A. Sheikh, July 21 2010.
4. Shirley Sherrod shaped by father's slaying, Rhonda Cook & Marcus Garner, July 22 2010.

It’s all about love, art and schools of fish, Stephen Haff, April 21 2010.

Innovative educator Stephen Haff gave the keynote at today’s Arts/Business/Education Consortium Awards, and it proved to be inspiring, ruthlessly honest and self-critical and beyond all expectation. Here’s a transcript:

“We get to listen” by Stephen Haff

Thank you for including me.

This speech is based on my personal experiences. Whenever I assert a universal truth, please take it with a grain of salt.

You may have seen a flock of birds, maybe starlings, thousands of them, flying wing-to-wing in breathtaking formations, folding in on themselves, then flowering, blossoming out, like a rose opening layer after layer; they swirl like a tornado, then spread into a long skinny string and alight along a power line. The flock is a being, a being that makes decisions without a leader. How do they know when to go this way or that way, up or down, spin or fly straight, land or take off?

You may also have seen a school of fish, say mackerel, doing the same kind of thing, forming, disbanding, reforming, hundreds of silver flashes moving swiftly as one, finding food, avoiding predators; no one’s crashing into anyone, and no one’s giving orders. How can this be?

My understanding is that the individual starling or mackerel responds to the movements of neighbors left, right, above, below and in front; according to their movements, a basic algorithm or function in the brain of the starling or mackerel processes what to do, and it’s instantaneous–there’s no real thinking going on, apart from the algorithm doing its work. They’re just BEING–in relation to their neighbors.

Over the years of my career as a teacher, in classrooms and rehearsals and now in the meetings of Still Waters in a Storm, I have preached compassion. When schools generated oppressive lists of rules and standards, and mind-crushing rubrics for grading everything children do, I threw those charts and lists in the garbage and asked young people to follow only one rule: LOVE EACH OTHER. I believe that if we respond to our neighbors according to this rule, everything’s going to be all right.

But what does it mean to love each other?

I don’t know.

I do think that part of love is respect–not in the typical school sense of obedience to institutional authority, but in the sense of making room for our neighbors to be who they are.

I also believe that trust is a big part of love. If we’re to become who we really are, our best beautiful self, we need to trust each other, to know that we’re allowed to be us.

In my experience, the single most important part of love is listening. Real listening, with patience, requires compassion, builds trust, and demonstrates respect.

The group I started two years ago in the Bushwick neighborhood of Brooklyn is called Still Waters in a Storm, and we operate on this algorithm: everyone hears everyone. That’s it. We meet, no more than 12 people at a given meeting, ages 6 to 52, with most in their teens and 20s, we eat pizza, and we write, about anything, in any style or genre, any number of words. Then, we take turns reading our writing out loud and listening to each other. After each reading, the group responds, not by judging or grading or liking or disliking, but by saying what we noticed, what we felt, what we related to, and by asking questions that encourage fullness and precision of expression. These responses say that we are listening with care.

We are practicing love.

During a recent meeting, a 16-year old girl passed me a note on a folded piece of paper. It said, “Can I call you Dad?”

Models for this group include Alcoholics Anonymous, Quaker meetings, the one-room schoolhouse, our pre-agricultural tribes, the wolf pack, group therapy and all-night conversations with good friends.

In public school classrooms, where I worked for 10 years, I would often go bananas trying to make students “listen.” Now, having left the big system, the New York Department of Education, I understand that this was a struggle because the school system values control, and the silence of students is evidence of their being under control. So of course the kids rebelled. It’s cruel and inhuman to put a group of highly social primates in an enclosed space, elbow to elbow, and forbid their free communication. It hurts them.

The title of this speech, “We get to listen,” quotes a statement by the youngest member of the group, 6-year old Angie. “We GET to listen.” What in school was oppression here is privilege. “We GET to listen.” We’re LUCKY.

Why lucky? Because if we think of ourselves as the Stone-Age beings we are when we’re born–we haven’t evolved since the Stone Age; same body, same brain–we’re wired for interdependent life in a village or extended tribe, and we naturally want and NEED to know what’s going on inside those around us, so that we can all be synchronized.

We need to need each other.

Children want to know what grown-ups are up to, and grown-ups have a real responsibility to guide and take care of the youngins. This is what we are, even now, despite the many separations that have unraveled our tribes.

It’s unnatural to segregate children by age, robbing them of the full range of perspectives in their village, as unnatural as it is to put away our elders in “homes.”

No wonder depression and other mental illnesses are rising and swallowing us like a dark tide. We’re separated from each other and from our own true nature.

Schools, offices, hospitals, nursing homes, iPods and television all keep us from being together and listening to each other. Even if we don’t know this consciously, our brain stem knows, our primal intuition knows, and we suffer.

Art, be it painting, music, writing, acting, photography, sculpture, dance or architecture, makes room for us to know each other. Our imaginations meet. And no matter how much personal pain we carry inside us for reference, compassion always requires an effort of imagination. Art trains us in imagining each other’s inner life. We get to listen, we get to see, we get to feel.

What does this have to do with learning?

In my personal experience, deep learning happens in the context of loving relationships.

My grandfather, who passed away at age 95 eight years ago, told me a story about love and learning. At age 10, in 1917, he had won a bamboo fishing pole in a small-town raffle, way up in the mountains of northern Idaho. His father told him he would need to wrap the pole in thread, an intricate procedure. His father also told him that he, my great-grandfather, needed to rewrap his own pole, too. They sat side-by-side on the porch and wound thread around bamboo. My grandfather added, at the end of the story, that, looking back, he suspected that his father didn’t really need to rewrap his own fishing pole.

Love isn’t something that happens to you, like falling asleep in a hammock on a lazy summer afternoon. It’s day labor. Every morning, before you’re ready, you wake up in the dark and you’re an immigrant, lining up for a day’s work, with no guarantee that the job will be there for you when the sun comes up.

A recent study of monkeys revealed that a given monkey will exhibit loyalty not necessarily to blood relatives but to those monkeys who reliably groom him or her. Reciprocal altruism is a powerful bond, and I think it’s the key to sustainable learning.

I say “sustainable” because I’ve put an awful lot of time and energy into curricula and lesson plans and the latest magical program with its mandatory buzz words–“accountable talk,” “text rich environment,” “literacy across the curriculum,” “activating schema,” “the new continuum,” and on and on–the third magical program in one year that will fix everything. But one condition abides: almost none of the students want to be in school, and those who do are often seeking refuge from unhealthy homes. It’s so familiar that it feels normal: kids. hate. school.

For years I made a spectacular effort in a Brooklyn neighborhood called Bushwick, at the infamous Bushwick High School, a grand old six-storey red brick tower that looks like a prison or an antiquated mental hospital, where students would set hallway bulletin boards on fire and once threw a dog out of a 5th floor window. On the way down, the dog struck a flag pole that was sticking out the side of the building, broke his back, then fell to his gut-spilling death on the sidewalk below.

In addition to my classroom teaching, I ran a collective called Real People Theater, or RPT, a group of neighborhood youth who rewrote Shakespeare, Milton and other classics, remixing the original text with Spanish and Street. The success, by every measure, was astonishing. Kids who otherwise refused to read or write were choosing to master Shakespeare. We received a lot of acclaim in the press and among renowned theater artists. The VILLAGE VOICE called us “Nothing less than a revolution,” and THE BROOKLYN RAIL said we were “One of the most respected theater collectives in New York City.” Graciela Daniele, a Broadway director and choreographer, thanked us for “bringing theater back to life.” We were even adopted as the official apprentice company of the Wooster Group. We traveled the world. Kids who had been barely literate attended elite colleges.

Then, all of us had to live the next day.

And the day after that.

Now, taking inventory of that group today, a few have started families, work decent jobs, or are continuing their formal education. One young woman has lost her mind, two young men are drug dealers, one is a coke addict who has beaten at least one woman after sex, and another young man is locked up for a couple of years for riding around with a loaded gun.

Ours was a story that Hollywood loves–the ghetto kids rise up, overcome, and are happy. Except, well, no.

I had several successive major breakdowns and fell into suicidal depression when the youngins I had given my heart to turned on me, tried to take over and call the shots. Having lived powerless their whole lives, they were drunk on all the praise and their own surging confidence, and acted according to the ethos of the street, which told them to gun for the big dog, which was me.

You could also just say that I had unrealistic expectations.

Following about three years of recuperation in my native Canada, including lots of cognitive therapy training and Taoist meditation, I needed to go back to Brooklyn and make things right somehow.

After several teaching jobs in Bronx and Brooklyn schools, I finally left the system, burning bridges as I just walked away, admitting that my being did not belong there, as an agent of control.

I started something then that is growing now, a group designed to accommodate comings and goings, to be patient, a voluntary one-room schoolhouse, a neighborhood within the neighborhood, where people listen to each other. It’s simple, deep and therapeutic, for all of us. The students say that this is what gets them through the week. But it’s not easy.

Power struggles rise up, usually as challenges to my authority–natural authority, based on experience and expertise, but authority nonetheless–challenges from young men who argue that they should be allowed to do whatever they want. They call this “freedom,” not considering how their unlimited freedom might affect the freedom of people around them, and that total license, like an asteroid heedless of what lies in its path, will collide with the planet of someone else’s desires or needs.

For humans who’ve been trained away from reciprocal love, there needs to be a retraining before they can fly like starlings or swim like mackerel, simultaneously free and together, making decisions collectively.

I guess that many kids are sick of being bossed around by teachers and parents, and they’re desperate to do as they wish. But that’s not freedom–although television advertising tells them that doing as they please is their birthright and even their patriotic duty–it’s not freedom any more than being “responsible” means doing your homework. Perhaps this is counter-intuitive, but I believe that real freedom is achieved by taking real responsibility for each other, that real freedom is a result of interdependence, of relationships, of love. I’ve kicked out three young men from the group already, for being narcissistic and having no conscience.

I used to take my 9th graders down the street every week to work with 1st graders; they would read and write stories together, and answer each other’s questions. Grumpy teenagers who wanted to be home in bed and balked at mentoring small children were visibly happy when they saw the little ones waving at them and smiling, as they, the teenagers, awkwardly entered a room whose furniture they had long outgrown. The little ones helped the big ones belong somewhere, be needed by a real person, set them free from a life of abstraction, free from segregation, free from a donkey’s burden of textbooks, free from competition with their peers, free from measurement, free from lovelessness.

Reminding myself daily to carry no agenda but love, I see my job as defending the sanctity of listening, against laziness and carelessness and a whole buncha things that fall under the heading of “B.S.,” and asking myself and my students to keep asking ourselves what it means to love each other. If we can keep the asking alive, petal after petal of the rose of our relationship opens. By caring for this flower, we make beauty, we make living art.

I believe that art is a human effort to re-enter paradise, to recreate universal understanding and universal interdependence. Artists are trying to get us back to the Garden, where the grace of being was installed in the gallery of nature, and everything was everything.

Maybe if we can see our relationships themselves as art, we might begin to treat each other with gratitude and reverence, begin to heal from the cutting of the umbilical cord that made us individuals and left us longing to be lost again in someone else, and begin to be not as lonely, after all.

The last words I leave to a student from my 9th grade English class at Bushwick High School eight years ago. She belonged to a gang called the Crips, so she wore all blue clothing and had her name tattooed on her neck in blue ink.

I had recently returned from visiting my 95-year old grandfather as he was dying in a San Francisco hospital, and I guess my grief was apparent.

The girl handed me a piece of paper folded in four, as it is here and now. All I want to say before reading it to you is, THIS is what I’m talking about:

“Dear Mr. Haff,

Please try to be happy because you are my happiness in school. Even though you always smiling I can see. I know what is like to lose someone. One day they there, then they not. My aunt comes back at night to bother me but it’s okay.

Love, Lydia
p.s. Eat more fruits!”

Thank you.

FP Marketing: U.S. environmental group warns tourists to avoid Alberta, John Shmuel, July 14 2010.

Planning a trip to see pristine wildlife in Alberta this summer? Well, you should probably reconsider, according to an American environmental group.

San Francisco-based Corporate Ethics International launched a new ad campaign Wednesday, urging tourists to avoid the province due to the destructive oil sands.

The ad campaign features a minute-and-a-half long video that begins by showing images of Alberta’s landscapes and wildlife. It then becomes more sinister when the focus switches to scenes of oil-covered birds, massive tailing ponds and barren fields. The video concludes with the words, “Think of visiting Alberta? Think again.”

Corporate Ethics also has billboards going up as part of the campaign. They’ll be featured in American cities that produce a large number of tourists to Canada, including Seattle, Portland, Denver and Minneapolis. In two weeks, the campaign will expand to the U.K.

“There is another oil disaster going on in Alberta every day and as more Americans become aware of it we believe they’ll be less willing to support the province with their tourist dollars,” said Michael Marx, executive director of Corporate Ethics, in a statement.

The campaign will also have an aggressive online presence. Corporate Ethics has paid for Google sponsored links, and will feature ads prominently on travel websites. The online component of the campaign compares Alberta’s oil sands to BP’s Gulf of Mexico oil spill, with the tagline: “Alberta: the Other Oil Disaster.”

This isn’t the first time Corporate Ethics has launched a large scale attack on the oil sands. Last year, the group was behind an ad calling for an Oscar to be given to director James Cameron for his movie, Avatar. The ad compared the plundering of the fictional planet in the film, Pandora, to the exploitation of Alberta’s oil sands.

Oil patch reeling from unfair attacks, L. Ian MacDonald, July 18 2010.

Alberta is being slagged by anti-oilsands ads and criticized by eastern premiers and politicians

A San Francisco public advocacy group called Corporate Ethics International launched a video and billboard campaign to "rethink" visiting Alberta and Canada because of the "tarsands." Alberta and the oil industry have spent a decade rebranding the resource as the oilsands, precisely to avoid the suggestion of tar sticking on ducks.

"Think of visiting Canada?" the ad asks. "Think again."

Remember those ducks? Billboards are going up in several major markets with the headline: "Alberta: the Other Oil Disaster" over two images of birds soaked in oil. One bird image is captioned "Gulf Oil Spill Disaster," and the other is labelled "Alberta Tar Sands Oil Disaster."

So the oilsands, ominously labelled the tarsands, is compared to the worst environmental disaster in American history, which has for three months been spewing millions of barrels of oil into the Gulf of Mexico, posing a major threat to the economy and environment of five states from Texas to Florida. And the companies extracting oil outof bitumeninFortMcMurray are compared to BP.

Everyone likes ducks. But more of them apparently die from flying into wind power turbines than from being soaked in tailing ponds in the oilsands.

Enough already, say Albertans. They are still shaking their heads at the performance of Quebec Premier Jean Charest, Ontario Premier Dalton McGuinty, and Toronto Mayor David Miller, trashing the oilsands on the world stage at the Copenhagen conference on climate change last December.

Since then, Albertans have started pointing out that Ontario and Quebec are beneficiary provinces of equalization, paid for by four donor provinces led by Alberta. Cheap tuition at universities, private high schools half-funded by Quebec, $7-a-day child care and now, in-vitro fertilization treatments in public health care, are all partly supported by Alberta tax dollars. This is what happens when politicians play a short game for easy headlines, rather than the long game that serves everyone's interests.

And it wasn't a good day for Michael Ignatieff when the Liberal leader said he wouldn't permit trans-Pacific shipment of oil on tankers from the coast of northern British Columbia. The next time Iggy goes to China, they'll want to talk to him about that, because they'll buy as much product from the oilsands as Alberta is not shipping to the United States. In the oilpatch and pipeline industry, they're simply gob-smacked by the stupidity of Ignatieff being in favour of the oilsands on the one hand, but against building a northern pipeline and shipping it overseas on the other.

There's no doubt that there are significant environmental and reputational issues to be managed around the oilsands. But they also have to be kept in perspective. Canada produces two per cent of the world's greenhouse-gas emissions, and the oilsands account for about five per cent of that. The problem is the visuals of oilsands production -smokestacks, water use, tailing ponds, and those darn birds.

But the economic benefits of the oilsands are compelling. As a paper by University of Calgary's Canada School of Energy and Environment points out: "The Canadian Energy Research Institute estimates that the oilsands industry alone will add three per cent to Canada's GDP during the period to 2020, 5.4-million person years of employment, 44 per cent of which will be outside Alberta."

Three per cent of GDP in today's terms is $50 billion a year, and with normal growth would come in at $75 billion in a decade's time.

Underlying all this is the importance of Canada's energy trade with the United States. Oil and gas are now by far Canada's largest export to the U.S. As David Mc-Laughlin and Bob Page of the National Round Table on the Environment and the Economy pointed out in a piece for Policy Options magazine last month, oil and gas exports to the U.S. in 2008 totalled nearly $70 billion in 2008, compared with $36 billion in auto exports.

In other words, energy exports from Alberta are now nearly twice the level of auto exports from Ontario.

But the other significant bullet point is that nearly half the industrial and employments of the oilsands go to manufacturers and suppliers in provinces like Ontario and Quebec. SNC-Lavalin, for instance, is a huge supplier of engineering services to the oilpatch, in the order of $1 billion a year.

Alberta and the energy industry both need to do a better job of telling this story, both in terms of the messenger and the message. But bottom line, what's good for Alberta is good for Canada.

Washington Post Paid Advertisement, Ed Stelmach, July 1 2010.

A good neighbour lends you a cup of sugar. A great neighbour supplies you with 1.4 million barrels of oil per day.

Yesterday was Canada Day, and my province, along with the rest of our country, celebrated the 143rd anniversary of our nation. It serves as a reminder of our shared values and the bonds of friendship and co-operation we enjoy with the U.S. The Government of Alberta considers our friends to the south to be a strong ally, and sustaining this relationship is very important to Albertans.

It is with great interest that the province of Alberta has been following the development of the proposed Keystone XL (KXL) pipeline. Though the pipeline could carry oil from various sources in Canada and the U.S., a lot of the debate during the permitting process seems to be centered specifically on the transportation of oil from Alberta’s oil sands.

The oil sands have been developed because there is an ongoing demand for oil. We can all agree that alternative energy sources are part of the supply equation that will power our future. But until those alternatives are developed commercially, and readily available at a price consumers can afford, we still require oil and gas to power our everyday lives.

Continuing to develop Alberta’s oil sands has many tangible benefits to the U.S. The obvious benefit is that it provides the U.S. with access to a secure and reliable supply of energy. In 2009, Alberta was the largest supplier of crude to the U.S. When considered in the context of other leading suppliers of crude, including Saudi Arabia, Venezuela, Nigeria, Iraq, Angola and Algeria, the energy security benefits of oil from Alberta are clear.

Today’s economic and security realities make the U.S. the natural market for the majority of Alberta oil exports. Improved access via projects like the Keystone XL pipeline will benefit the U.S. economically and allow your country to continue to receive oil from a country whose environmental and social goals are similar to yours.

There are also economic benefits to Americans. As the Council on Foreign Relations has noted, oil purchased from Canada delivers far more economic benefits to the U.S. than oil purchased from overseas sources. As recently forecast by the Canadian Energy Research Institute, over the next five years, oil sands development will result in an additional 343,000 jobs in the U.S. and, over the next 15 years, an average annual increase in U.S. GDP of over $30 billion.

Allow me to clarify a few misconceptions around Alberta’s oil sands.

Alberta is — and continues to be — a safe, reliable and responsible energy producer. We stand virtually alone in North America with respect to the regulation of greenhouse gas (GHG) emissions from large industrial facilities. Only in Alberta will you find mandatory GHG reporting requirements, legislation requiring mandatory GHG reductions, and a price on carbon emissions. We reinvest the carbon revenue into clean energy research and technology development, which one day can be used all over the world, including the United States.

Technological developments continue to reduce the carbon-intensity of the oil sands, while “conventional”
crudes are getting more carbon intensive. In fact, between 1990 and 2008, the oil sands industry has reduced average per barrel GHG emissions from production by 39 per cent. In the final analysis, total greenhouse gas emissions from all Alberta’s oil sands projects account for less than one-tenth of one per cent of global greenhouse gas emissions.

The most recent and comprehensive studies on the subject of oil sands-related GHG emissions have found that average oil sands lifecycle carbon intensity is comparable to numerous other U.S. crude sources, both domestically produced and imported. The Cambridge Energy Research Associates’ report Growth in the Canadian Oil Sands: Finding the New Balance concluded that the United States consumes crude oils with a wide range of lifecycle GHG emissions, some with emissions higher than those from the oil sands. The report also found that when measuring GHG emissions in a wells-to-wheels or lifecycle basis, total GHG emissions from oil sands are comparable to other imported and domestic crude oil sources used in the United States and are, in fact, superior to some of these sources.

Alberta has accomplished a lot through innovation and technology, but we recognize that much work still lies ahead. We want to make responsible energy choices, just as you do. I believe my province and your country are on the same team when it comes to responsible development, energy security and jobs. Let’s work together to develop a North American energy solution that is realistic and secure, now and into the future.

Ed Stelmach
Premier of the Province of Alberta

Canada: The Saudi Arabia of the North?, Andrew Nikiforuk, July 7 2010.

Canada's road to becoming a petro-state is lined with lies, greed, and pollution.

Canada now suffers from an advanced state of “petromania,” a condition of rank moral dishonesty compounded by visions of oily grandeur.

When a nation becomes the number one supplier of petroleum to the United States as well as a gleeful addict of its associated trade revenue ($40 billion), it can’t do so without carbonizing its political and economic character.

According to Stanford political scientist Terry Karl any country that relies on “an unsustainable development trajectory” for oil routinely degenerates into a petro-state defined by cancerous networks of complicity between public sector and private oil companies. We’re now living that peril with the tar sands.

The resource curse, a topic verboten in the national media, probably explains why Canada’s Environment Minister Jim Prentice and the Alberta government, a northern Saudi kingdom, have become gleeful marketing representatives for the world’s riskiest energy project.

In recent speeches and newspaper advertisements that could have been written by the Canadian Association for Petroleum Producers, Canada’s oil bullies declare that the tar sands are safe, secure and responsible. The claims might even cause BP's Tony Hayward to blanche.

For starters the resource's dirty character mocks such open deceit. Chemical engineers typically describe bitumen as a “difficult” and “extreme” hydrocarbon trapped in sand and clay that requires brute force to extract. It is not oil floating on sand. Unlike conventional crude, bitumen is so damn impure and carbon-rich that an ugly processing system vomits up a mountain of five million tonnes of petroleum coke a year or more than the coal industry. Bitumen reminds us that the era of cheap oil is over and that business as usual is a mirage.

Next come the bogus safety claims. Approximately six billion barrels of toxic mining waste now sit in more than 20 dams covering 170 square kilometers of forest along the Athabasca River. That’s enough waste to fill a 10-by-10 metre canal stretching across the Canada-U.S. border from sea to sea. Just to separate the water from this sludge will cost between $20 to $40 billion dollars. Reclamation of the dams will cost billions more. A breach in one of these insecure impoundments by an earthquake, extreme weather, or engineering failure would have catastrophic Deepwater Horizon consequences downstream. Does this sound safe?

Security is another myth. How can a resource that costs between $60-80 a barrel to produce, or twenty times more than conventional oil, engender anything but insecurity in an economy? In addition it takes one barrel of energy to extract five barrels of bitumen while conventional oil enjoys profitable returns of one to 20. Civilizations that increasingly rely on complicated and capital draining projects that offer diminishing energy returns have invested in the petroleum equivalent of toxic derivatives. They will not remain civilized for long.

Perhaps the most preposterous lie is that Alberta and Canada magically belong to an exclusive club known as the “responsible energy producer.” In fact the whole saga of rapid tar sands development reeks of BP-style irresponsibility. The project has become a carbon-making nation within Canada and will soon foul the atmosphere with more ocean acidifying emissions than Canada’s transportation sector or industrial European nations with 10 million people. When a doctor raises concerns about documented increases in rare cancers downstream from the bitumen complex, Health Canada attacks him. When scientists raise concerns about rising levels of pollution on the Athabasca River (a slow spill of 5,000 barrels of bitumen every year), Alberta Environment calls them liars. And just how responsible is it for Alberta’s Environment Minister Rob Renner to tour the United States and belittle low carbon fuel standards?

By their very crude nature, petro-states invariably come to represent and defend the devil’s excrement because it fills government coffers with easy loot. In the process these same governments actively disenfranchise their citizens.

Until Canada recognizes and addresses the peril of the resource curse, we will lie to U.S. consumers and to ourselves. But by calling what is dirty “clean”; what is difficult “safe”; and what is extreme “secure,” we have already imperiled the future of our children.

Media advisory: 2011 Census, Munir A. Sheikh, July 21 2010.

OTTAWA — There has been considerable discussion in the media regarding the 2011 Census of Population.

There has also been commentary on the advice that Statistics Canada and I gave the government on this subject.

I cannot reveal and comment on this advice because this information is protected under the law. However, the government can make this information public if it so wishes.

I have always honoured my oath and responsibilities as a public servant as well as those specific to the Statistics Act.

I want to take this opportunity to comment on a technical statistical issue which has become the subject of media discussion. This relates to the question of whether a voluntary survey can become a substitute for a mandatory census.

It can not.

Under the circumstances, I have tendered my resignation to the Prime Minister.

I want to thank him for giving me the opportunity of serving him as the Chief Statistician of Canada, heading an agency that is a symbol of pride for our country.

To you, the men and women of Statistics Canada – thank you for giving me your full support and your dedication in serving Canadians. Without your contribution, day in and day out, in producing data of the highest quality, Canada would not have this institution that is our pride.

I also want to thank Canadians. We do remember, every single day, that it is because of you providing us with your information, we can function as a statistical agency. I am attaching an earlier message that I sent to Canadians in this regard.

In closing, I wish the best to my successor. I promise not to comment on how he/she should do the job. I do sincerely hope that my successor’s professionalism will help run this great organization while defending its reputation.

Munir A. Sheikh.

Message from the Chief Statistician of Canada [the 'earlier message'he refers to above]

At Statistics Canada, our goal is to provide the best and most reliable information possible on our society, our economy, our environment and other dimensions of our country.

We follow the highest technical standards in collecting information from you as individuals, businesses and institutions and in reporting it back to you. In addition, we work neutrally and objectively, without interference or influence from any groups or individuals. Finally, we place a very high value on the confidentiality of the information we collect and on the privacy of those who provide it. For these reasons, we are rated as the best statistical agency in the world.

Our data serve a very useful role in the functioning of our country, allowing Canadians to make informed decisions and governments of all levels to develop appropriate policies. We take this role very seriously indeed.

As always, our focus at Statistics Canada is on data quality—which includes key features such as relevance, accuracy, timeliness, accessibility, interpretability and coherence.

And, finally, I take this opportunity to thank all those who give us their data. It is because of them that we can produce statistics that benefit all Canadians.

Munir A. Sheikh
Chief Statistician of Canada

Shirley Sherrod shaped by father's slaying, Rhonda Cook & Marcus Garner, July 22 2010.

Shirley Sherrod’s 17th year probably did more to mold her personality and set her on a path that traveled through the dangerous, volatile world of race.

That year, 1965, her father was shot and killed by a white man in a dispute over cows, the family says.

That year, she was one of the first black students to integrate the high school in Baker County in rural southwest Georgia.

That year, she decided to become involved in the civil rights movement in that area of the state.

And in later years, like some of the farmers she helped when she worked for a non-profit, Sherrod and her husband lost a group farm to bankruptcy.

Now the former Georgia director of rural development for the U.S. Department of Agriculture is fending off allegations that she is racist because of something she said during a speech before the NAACP last spring. It was a few sentences in a story she told about an epiphany that changed her way of thinking two dozen years ago; the problems of farmers were not defined as black vs. white but “poor vs. those who have.”

She was asked to resign her job with the Obama administration earlier this week when a conservative blogger posted some of her comments. Her boss, the secretary of agriculture, said he would look at the situation again once complaints were raised that those sentences needed to be considered in the context of her 43-minute talk to an NAACP meeting in Douglas, in far south Georgia. Wednesday afternoon, the White House said USDA Secretary Tom Vilsack apologized to Sherrod, but stopped short of saying whether she will get her job back.

“Things would be in her favor, even if she didn’t get her job back. She will always have a place in the movement for justice," said Jerry Pennick, head of the Federation of Southern Cooperatives, based in East Point. Sherrod was the director of the Georgia field office for that organization before she was appointed to work with the USDA.

Pennick said Sherrod helped thousands of farmers, not only in Georgia, but around the country.

He said he talked to Sherrod after she was forced out.

“She was hurt in the beginning and surprised at the reaction to it," he said. "But she’s a strong person. We had no doubt that she would get through it and she would come out a better person. And it seems like that’s what going to happen.”

Grace Miller, Sherrod’s mother, said she remembers the night that most likely nudged her daughter into public service. Until then, Sherrod has said several times, she was determined to move out of the South and away from farming.

She changed her mind a few days after her father was killed, an event Sherrod often includes in her talks.

Sherrod’s father, Jose Miller, had a dispute with a man over cows that had come into his pasture. The neighbor insisted that three of Miller’s cows were his. Miller said he would call the “law” to settle the dispute. As Jose Miller was closing the gate, he was shot in the back, the family says.

Grace Miller said that the neighbor was not held accountable.

After the shooting, “Shirley would be off by herself,” Grace Miller said about her daughter, the oldest of four girls and a son.

“One night she was outside," Miller said. "The moon was shining. And it was going through her mind, what would she do? She decided she would stay [in south Georgia] and make a difference.”

She enrolled in Fort Valley State College. She later went on to receive a B.A. in sociology from Albany State University and an M.A. in community development from Antioch University in Yellow Springs, Ohio.

“She was not able to go to jail like the rest of them [protesters],” Grace Miller said. “She was off at school. She really wanted to go [to jail].”

While she was at Fort Valley, one night about 40 white men burned a cross in her family’s yard, Miller said, and that added to her daughter's distress over race relations in her home county of Baker.

After graduation, Sherrod married a minister and immersed herself more in the civil rights movement, according to her son, Kenyatta.

“She was a little more strict on us because of the calls they got … from people saying they were going to snatch us [Kenyatta Sherrod and his older sister] because of what my father was doing.”

Sherrod also took a position working with farmers in trouble.

“I want to do all I can to help rural communities be what they can,” Sherrod said in the videotaped talk last March. “When I made that commitment, I was making that commitment to black people and to black people only. ... But you know God will show you things and he’ll put things in your path that you realize that the struggle is really about poor people.”

Kenyatta Sherrod remembers when his family’s farm was in foreclosure in the early 1980s. It was huge -- 6,000 acres -- and several people lived on it, raising vegetables and livestock that they would share with each other. Though several people had a stake in it, the property was in the Sherrods' names.

“They lost the farm,” Kenyatta Sherrod said. “Life was different after that. We didn’t have a lot after that.”

He remembers his parents having trouble paying for utilities.

“Early on, sometime after we lost our farm, I caught her crying over the bills," he said. "We had a real low time after we lost the farm.”

Now Sherrod is a grandmother to four girls, her son's children.

“Her granddaughters are her world. They do nothing wrong,” Kenyatta Sherrod said of his children’s relationship with their grandmother.

When the controversy started over Sherrod’s comments, she was more concerned with the reaction the children -- ages 11, 7, 5 and 16 months -- would have.

“She was worried about what my daughters would think when they heard it,” Kenyatta Sherrod said.

The biggest concern for three of the girls was that they wanted to continue coming to Athens to visit their grandmother, who kept an apartment there for work.

“So I [explained] she’s deciding to come back, so well have fun with her here [in Albany],” Kenyatta Sherrod said.

Sunday, 18 July 2010

l'allée suite

or Never again? or Perfidious Albion? or Not unalloyed?
Up, Down, Appendices, Postscript.

the best thing about losing your memory is that everything is ever and always new :-)the first time I thought about it all this way, that we are each and every one alone, (that I can remember :-) was in relation to some photographs by Chris Simpson from Madagascar, then this week I watched a suite of movies around the 1994 genocide in Rwanda (listed in the Appendix) and the last few frames of Beyond The Gates (aka Shooting Dogs) as Marie runs for Burundi, a-and noticing that the image completes a Victorian arch with the initial images in the film, gave me this:
Beyond The GatesBeyond The GatesBeyond The GatesBeyond The GatesBeyond The Gates
Marie's gaze, Claire-Hope Ashitey's gaze ... really I wanted to find a profile of Valentina Iribagiza from Nyarubuye somehow from Frontline's Ghosts Of Rwanda but movies not being 3-D and all ... and using Bill Clinton's smirk was also unsatisfactory given the scale of the denial, and putting the three frames side by each was unsatisfactory ... blah blah blah, whatever ...

my old friend Keith called it 'isolato' ... there was another opposite term but I have forgotten what it was ... 'communal' I think, and of course we differed on who was what and what was what ... later on he came up with a theory that there were in fact two species of human, one with compassion and one without, Kurt Vonnegut had a similar notion with his PPs - Pathological Personalities I think it was ...

Christine ShellyChristine Shellyif there are special circles in hell then Christine Shelly aka Christine Shelley and her kind should have one, not only close to being gramatically illiterate, she was the epitome of American moral illiteracy, the infamous exchange: "How many acts of genocide does it take to make a genocide? Um, Alan, that's just not a question that I'm in a position to answer" ... it is unkind to speak ill of the dead (they say) and she died of cancer in 2006 at a relatively young age - 54, I thought of doing a montage à la Marilyn Monroe/Andy Warhol, I imagine she said about the same thing many times but I could only find images of her wearing the two dresses shown (April 28 & June 10), and anyway it was a deep and rich vein of evil (or river of shit as the Fugs would call it) that she was swimming in, digging and delving, all the way from Bill Clinton, Warren Christopher, David Rawson, Prudence Bushnell, Madeleine Albright, Anthony Lake, (one two one two and through and through) in the American structure, and perfectly symmetrical at the United Nations: Boutros Boutros-Ghali, Kofi Annan, (the vorpal blade went snicker snack) ... "from the Grand Coulee dam to the Capitol, idiot wind, blowing every time you move your teeth."

They speak vanity every one with his neighbour: with flattering lips and with a double heart do they speak.
     Psalm 12.

He has two hearts instead of one. She cried, "Young man, what have ye done?"
     The Swallow.

in Ghosts of Rwanda you can see both Bill Clinton and Madelaine Albright mouthing the hollow old saws about hindsight; "if we'd known then what we know now" and "things look different in retrospect" and more ... but it is a lie, they knew, they all knew.

if there is hope it might look something like Valentina Iribagiza, she says, "I do not know why I did not die. But maybe God had a plan for me to live."
Valentina IribagizaValentina IribagizaValentina IribagizaValentina IribagizaValentina IribagizaValentina IribagizaValentina IribagizaValentina IribagizaValentina IribagizaValentina Iribagiza
... 'maybe' indeed ... the stories (3-1 & 3-2 below) and the pictures make 'too personal a tale' and it is not just a brutal story with a happy ending, the purveyors, including myself, are careless about details, don't really understand it at all ... and so on ...

He's quoted for a most perfidious slave,
With all the spots o' the world tax'd and debosh'd;
Whose nature sickens but to speak a truth.
Am I or that or this for what he'll utter,
That will speak any thing?

     speaking about Parolles in All's Well That Ends Well: V, 3.

all of my thinking always brings me back eventually to the good Samaritan and the Golden Rule, God has gone to god for me, de-morphed? but I am still ruminating on the bottom lines laid out by Clive Hamilton and Bill McKibben (here, here, & here) - liminality, community, love.

Happy Birthday! to Nelson Mandela at 92.Happy Birthday Nelson Mandelaand the crazy old fuck is still smilin' :-)and it winds back for me to the very end of Coetzee's story of Michael K and his pumpkins, and yeah, if I don't get some shelter soon maybe I'm gonna fade away too, that's ok, bound to happen eventually, all good :-) and 'soon' is a relative term :-)

what might be a few minor victories (items 1-1, 1-2, & 2 in the Appendix), as environment ministers begin to at least look in the right direction, and the courts of BC may strike a blow against the robocops, but who can say?

and here's something, my brother-in-law loved to read P.D. James stories ... The Children of Men, 1992 by P.D. James, and Children of Men, 2006 by Alfonso Cuarón (uTorrent).

and an American lawyer with a conscience apparently, Lieutenant-Colonel Jon S. Jackson looks like he is going to bat for Omar Khadr, while on the k-k-Canadian side we have the entirely DIS-Honourable Minister of IN-Justice, Rob Nicholson.

and finally, just a few shots from Bliss:
Honey Barbara / Helen JonesEucalyptus melliodora / Yellow BoxHarry Joy / Barry Otto
Helen Jones as Honey Barbara, a detail of Eucalyptus melliodora aka Yellow Box tree that Harry planted in his eight-year love letter, and Barry Otto as Harry Joy,

here is a bit of one of Harry Joy's stories: "In New York, there are towers of glass. It is the most terrible and beautiful city on Earth. All good, all evil exists there. If you know where to look, you can find the Devil, that is where he lives. If you keep your eyes peeled you can see him drive down 42nd Street in a Cadillac."

Peter Carey, the author of the novel Bliss now lives there apparently; nothing is as simple as we would like it to be eh? when I was fossicking about at SlowTV I noticed his closing address at the Sydney Writers' Festival, May of this year ... I just listened to a few minutes of the beginning of it then, sort of went uh? and passed on ... more later maybe ...

Rwanda Genocide films: Wikipedia List (incomplete)
1997: NFB The Rwanda Series;
2004: PBS Frontline, Ghosts of Rwanda, uTorrent;
2004: Hotel Rwanda, uTorrent;
2005: Sometimes in April, uTorrent;
2005: Shooting Dogs/Beyond The Gates, uTorrent;
2006: Un dimanche à Kigali/A Sunday in Kigali, uTorrent;
2007: Shake Hands with the Devil, uTorrent;
2008: NFB Triage: Dr. James Orbinski's Humanitarian Dilemma;
2009: Le jour ou Dieu est parti en voyage/The Day God Stayed/Walked Away, uTorrent.

1-1. A Tale of Two Targets, NYT Editorial, July 15 2010.
1-2. Europe needs to reduce emissions by 30%, FT, July 14 2010.
2. Braidwood commission lawyers refute Taser challenge, CP, July 9 2010.
3-1. Valentine’s Story, Holy Trinity United Methodist Church, Sunday, January 18 2009.
3-2. Testimony of Valentina Izibagiza, SURF.

A Tale of Two Targets, NYT Editorial, July 15 2010.

The Senate spent this week searching for ways to water down the modest greenhouse gas emissions targets in the House-passed energy bill, which opponents claim — wrongly and shortsightedly — will injure the economy. The British, French and German environmental ministers showed a lot more sense this week.

They issued a bold call in The Financial Times for all European Union governments to approve stricter emissions targets, arguing that it would encourage private investment in low emissions technology and hone Europe’s export edge in low carbon goods and services.

Ministerial exhortations are one thing; binding legislation is another. Europe has generally talked a better climate-protection game than it has delivered. Yet this week’s contrast in directions is embarrassing for President Obama, who once pledged to fight for the stricter House targets, and for the United States.

At December’s climate conference in Copenhagen, most countries agreed in principle to try to hold global temperature increases to 2 degrees Celsius, by midcentury, which mainstream scientists regard as the threshold for preventing potentially catastrophic climate changes.

Achieving that will, they believe, require reducing worldwide greenhouse gas emissions by some 80 percent by 2050. Every nation will have to contribute, though not necessarily in equal measure. The House version of this year’s energy bill called for a 17 percent cut from 2005 emissions levels by 2020. The three ministers, by contrast, call for reinstating a European target of 30 percent reductions from much lower 1990 levels by 2020.

The European Union deferred that target, in part because of the economic strains of the global recession. But the ministers point out that the recession, by slowing economic activity across Europe, has actually made the original 30 percent target easier and cheaper to achieve. And they rightly note the potential export benefits for Europe of being a leading low-carbon producer.

Nobody expects the Senate to go as far as the European ministers advocate. But there is no excuse for the Senate’s backward march. We all live on the same planet, and it is getting warmer.

Europe needs to reduce emissions by 30%, FT, July 14 2010.

By Chris Huhne/UK climate change secretary, Norbert Röttgen/German federal environment minister and Jean-Louis Borloo/French environment minister.

Europe’s current focus on recovery from recession must not distract us from the question of what kind of economy we want to build. Unless we set our countries on a path to a sustainable low-carbon future, we will face continued uncertainty and significant costs from energy price volatility and a destabilising climate.

This is why we today set out our belief that the European Union should raise its emissions target. A reduction of 30 per cent from 1990 levels by 2020 would represent a real incentive for innovation and action in the international context. It would be a genuine attempt to restrict the rise in global temperatures to 2°C – the key climate danger threshold – stiffening the resolve of those already proposing ambitious action and encouraging those waiting in the wings. It would also make good business sense.

The current target of a 20 per cent reduction now seems insufficient to drive the low-carbon transition. The recession by itself has cut emissions in the EU’s traded sector by 11 per cent from pre-crisis levels. Partly as a result, the price of carbon is far too low to stimulate significant investment in green jobs and technologies.

If we stick to a 20 per cent cut, Europe is likely to lose the race to compete in the low-carbon world to countries such as China, Japan or the US – all of which are looking to create a more attractive environment for low-carbon investment.

By moving to a higher target, the EU would have a direct impact on the carbon price through to 2020 and also send a strong signal of our commitment to a low-carbon policy framework in the longer term. We must not forget that building a low-carbon future depends overwhelmingly on the private sector. Moving to a 30 per cent target would provide greater certainty and predictability for investors.

Europe’s companies are poised to take advantage of the new opportunities. They currently have a global market share of 22 per cent of the low-carbon goods and services sector, thanks to Europe’s early leadership in tackling climate change. But the rest of the world is catching up. The Copenhagen commitments, though less ambitious than we had hoped, have triggered widespread action, notably in China, India and Japan.

Because of reduced emissions in the recession, the annual costs in 2020 of meeting the existing 20 per cent target are down a third from €70bn ($89bn, £59bn) to €48bn. A move up to 30 per cent is now estimated to cost only €11bn more than the original cost of achieving a 20 per cent reduction. In addition, delayed action would come with a high price tag: according to the International Energy Agency, every year of delayed investment on low-carbon energy sources costs €300bn to €400bn at the global level.

Furthermore, these costs were calculated on the conservative assumption that oil will cost $88 (€69, £58) a barrel in 2020. Given the current constraints on supply-side investment, rapid growth in consumption in Asia, and the impact of the Gulf of Mexico oil spill, oil prices may well rise further; under one IEA scenario, the price could reach a nominal $130 a barrel. Rising oil prices would lower the costs of hitting any targets and, under some scenarios, the direct economic effects of hitting the 30 per cent target by 2020 actually turn positive.

Some energy-intensive sectors will be exposed to greater costs than the average. We already try to safeguard them through free emissions allowances where necessary, and alternative measures might be needed over time. The real threat that such industries face, though, is not carbon prices but collapsing demand in the European construction and infrastructure markets. One sure way to increase demand for the materials these sectors produce is through incentives to boost investment in large-scale low-carbon infrastructure – a voracious user of steel, cement, aluminium and chemicals. Our industry departments are working to ensure that we manage the transition effectively and maximise opportunities for these sectors.

Ducking the argument on 30 per cent will put us in the global slow lane. Early action will provide our industries with a vital head start. That is why we believe the move to 30 per cent is right for Europe. It is a policy for jobs and growth, energy security and climate risk. Most of all, it is a policy for Europe’s future.

Braidwood commission lawyers refute Taser challenge, CP, July 9 2010.

VANCOUVER — Taser International's legal challenge of the Braidwood commission is not only baseless, but an abuse of process, a provincial government lawyer told a B.C. Supreme Court judge Friday.

Lawyer Craig Jones said the petition by Taser was such a "waste of precious judicial resources" that he may be making the unusual request for the court to award legal costs to the provincial government.

The weapons maker is "manipulating the courts" by saying its stun gun holds no risk of death in Canada, while asserting the reverse in the United States, Jones said in a written submission to the judge.

Earlier in the week, government lawyers pointed to a Taser training bulletin that recommends users aim the device away from the heart to "avoid the remote potential risk of cardiac effect."

But Taser countered that it has never admitted the weapons are dangerous, and that the phrase was simply inserted to prevent potential lawsuits. Jones alleges the Arizona-based company changes its position to suit its local litigation needs.

"The Braidwood Report is making life difficult for Taser -- it finds itself legally compelled to admit to risks it continues to deny in other contexts," the submission states.

"If it can get the report quashed on technical grounds related to procedural fairness its litigation strategy internationally will be advanced and its marketing efforts protected."

Taser is petitioning B.C. Supreme Court to throw out the portion of Commissioner Thomas Braidwood's report about the safety of the stun guns. The retired judge concluded the weapons can kill.

The public inquiry was called in the months after Robert Dziekanski was repeatedly jolted by an RCMP Taser and died on the floor of the Vancouver airport.

Taser's lawyers argued at the start of the hearing that it was treated unfairly in the inquiry, and conclusions were reached that weren't supported by facts.

Jones argued the affidavit shows the company may have asserted it wanted the opportunity to communicate recent research findings, but instead merely intended to protect its own legal position in U.S. litigation.

He argues it "would be a shame" if the conduct of the company passes "without comment or condemnation," given the expense imposed on the B.C. taxpayers. As such, he requests the court "invite submissions on costs" after the judge issues his decision.

Lawyers for all parties wrapped the week of arguments Friday before Judge Robert Sewell, who reserved his ruling without giving a date for his decision.

"I want to thank all counsel for their most thorough, able and interesting submissions," Sewell said when the proceedings had concluded.

Valentine’s Story, Holy Trinity United Methodist Church, Sunday, January 18 2009.

After a short introduction by Daddy Glenn, I will introduce myself also, and will then answer four questions.


Hello! Good morning. My name is Valentine Iribagiza. I am happy to be here today to tell you my story. I want to thank Pastor Susan and the Outreach Committee for inviting me here. My English is not good. So I hope you will understand me. The languages that I know best are French, and the native language of Rwanda, called Kinyarwanda.

When I speak to people, I like to answer questions. So today I am going to answer four questions about my life:


In 1994 in Rwanda we had Genocide. The government of Rwanda was controlled by some people from the Hutu majority group who wanted to hold all the power.

The Hutu Power group were prepared to kill those of us who belonged to a group, called the Tutsi.

The Genocide began on April 6th, 1994, when the plane carrying the President of the country, who was a Hutu, was shot down. The President was killed.

The Hutu leaders said that the Tutsi people killed their President, so the killing of Tutsi people began immediately after the President’s plane was shot down.

Many Tutsi people died everywhere – in their homes, along the roads, by the rivers, in the mountains, and also in the churches.

The people of my village, and many other people who were running from the killers, went to the church in our village. We all thought THIS IS THE HOUSE OF GOD and they will not kill us in this church.

After two days, the Hutu killers came to the church and asked who was Hutu and who was Tutsi. The Tutsi people were kept in the church, where most all of them were killed over the next few days. We still do not know the number killed. Even today bodies are still being found buried in our village.

The killers used machetes, bombs, and big clubs with nails. I lost my family, friends, neighbors. I didn’t see my Mom, or my brothers or sisters get killed, but I saw my daddy’s body. The killers kept coming back to the church for three days. Those of us who were not dead pretended to be dead. We hid ourselves among the bodies.

The 2 nd question is: WHAT HAPPENED TO ME AT THAT TIME?

I went to the church with my family on the 12th of April. After two days, the killers came. They struck me with a machete on my hip. They thought I was dead. I was one of the children who hiding among the bodies. I could not walk.

The next day the killers came and threw stones at us to see who was still alive. They found about 10 or 15 of us. They made me crawl out of the church into the churchyard. They called us bad names. Snakes.

A man named Antoine, who was my neighbor, asked me WHY DIDN’T YOU DIE? I said nothing. He asked also WHERE IS YOUR BROTHER? I said nothing. I did not know what happened to my brother.

He had long knife and a club, and he struck me on my right shoulder, and on my head.

Then he made me put my right hand out on the ground, and he struck my hand again and
again with the club.

He thought I was dead, like the others. So the killers went away. It was raining, and I could not stand up, but I managed to crawl back into the church.

I was in the church with all the bodies for some more days when two Hutu people came into the church to see if there were any people still alive. These were people from my village, a brother and a sister. I knew them. They had been among the killers.

They said bad things to me. They called me names. They said we don’t have to kill you. You are going to die anyway.

But then they said, what do you want? I could not speak because my mouth and throat were dry. So I motioned with my hand, asking for water.

They came back later with water, but it was dirty, and I could not drink it. They also brought me a sweet potato. I tried to eat it, but I could not swallow.

Then they went away and never came back.

I was in the church for 43 days without food or water.

The 3 rd question is: HOW DID I SURVIVE AND GET BETTER?

I do not know the answer to this question.

I do not know why I did not die. But maybe God had a plan for me to live.

After being in the church for 43 days, the soldiers came, and a French man named Daniel, and they took me to the hospital.

At the hospital the nurses helped me. They treated my wounds. They gave me a new life.

I was in the hospital for 7 months, and then I was taken to an orphanage. There at the orphanage I saw my younger brother, Placide.

He had survived by running away from the church, and hiding in the bush.

Then our uncle came and found us, and he took us to his home. He and my auntie were like
my mama and papa.

I also met a man named Fergal Keane. He is a reporter for the BBC television company. He had seen me in 1994 when I was badly injured, and started making a video of me.

The video, called VALENTINA’S NIGHTMARE, showed who I was when they found me in May of 1994. It also showed me again in 1997, when Fergal came back, and was surprised to see that I was alive and strong.

When I went back to school I had the idea that one day I would become a soldier. I wanted to be a soldier because it was the soldiers who found me and helped me survive. But then I became afraid that I would be killed if I became a soldier.

So I had the idea of becoming a nun. I wanted to give to God. But I had nothing to give, so I wanted to give myself to God. But my uncle said NO. Finally I had the idea of becoming a nurse, because the nurses had helped me recover from my wounds.


I still want to become a nurse; if not a nurse, then perhaps a counselor. When people ask me, “What do you want to do?” I say, “There is one thing above all. I want to help people. Many people in my country still suffer from TRAUMA. I am strong, so I want to help other people. That is the purpose of my life. TO HELP OTHERS.

In 2003 I met Glenn, who is now like a parent to me. Daddy Glenn helped me come to America, to learn English. I am now studying English at the University of New Hampshire. I hope to start my Bachelor of Arts program next September.

I hope that one day there will be a clinic in Rwanda called Valentine’s Clinic. It will be my gift to the people of my home country. It will help heal people, and also tell about my story.

People ask me if I want to return to Rwanda, and I say “Yes, of course. Rwanda is my home. But I like America too. I like being an international citizen.

Again, thank you for welcoming me to this church. Now that I am here with you, I hope you will call me your daughter. It makes me happy to have many mamas and papas. I like having a big family.

That was my short report. If you have questions, please come to the meeting after the service.

Testimony of Valentina Izibagiza, SURF.

This is the testimony of Valentina Izibagiza, a survivor of the Rwandan genocide. She was 11 years old in 1994, at the beginning of the Rwandan genocide.

Before the genocide, I lived with my parents, four brothers and three sisters in Kibungo which is near Nyarubuye. We were a happy family and lucky children who didn't want for anything. I was third in the family, and I was in at school in primary three. We are Tutsi and we had many friends and neighbours who were Hutus.

On 7th April, the death of Rwanda's President Habyarimana was announced on the radio which greatly worried my parents. The following days, fires were burning in the neighbourhood, and the army came and killed some Tutsis in the local market place. Then we heard that the killing of Tutsis had begun in Rwanda's capital Kigali. On the 12th April, we heard that one of our Tutsi neighbours was attacked and murdered.

We knew what this meant for us Tutsis. Several people adults went to see the local mayor, Sylvester Gacumbitsi. He was a Hutu mayor but when he advised that Tutsis should go to the Catholic Church for sanctuary, everyone took him at his word. After all this, as my parents told me, this is where Tutsis found sanctuary, in previous attacks, in the 50s, 60s and 70s.

We arrived in the church on the 13th April to find that the priests had left so it was ‘everyone for himself.’ We had no food or water, but at least we had shelter and we were safe. Or so we thought. Now we know that around 3,000 Tutsis sought refuge in this church.

At 3pm on the afternoon of the 15th April we heard the sound of gun shots. Some people ran as soon as they heard the firing, but they were immediately gunned down and killed by the interahamwe, the Hutu militia who were very close. Soon the church was encircled, and the militia was shooting at everyone. Inside the church it was chaos as everyone ran around, screaming, trying to find a place to hide. Originally I'd been with my mother and brother but we became separated in the hysteria which ensued.

The church had lots of little rooms off the main church for storage and for the priests that lived there, so many people hid in here. Just as I'd crouched down in a corner, Gacumbitsi appeared. He had a microphone with him, and he shouted at us, "We are the interahmawe and we're about to eliminate every Tutsi so that in the future no-one will even know what a Tutsi looked like". He added, 'If anyone is hiding in this church because of a mistake, because really he or she is a Hutu, they should tell me now." After a few seconds a boy of about seven or eight stood up. "I am a Hutu," he said. Of course everyone knew that he wasn't Hutu. Two interahmwe soldiers ran forward and beat him with machetes so fiercely that his body went flying up in the air, and came down in several pieces. I sat watching all this terrified, as everyone screamed, begging to be saved.

I'd been hiding in a small cubby hole quite near the entrance of the church. I think it was so small that nobody bothered to check to see if anyone would be hiding there. Sometimes the militia would just take a child and throw it at the wall. Or if they were killing people with machetes they'd throw them so that some fell very close to and almost on top of me as I lay crouched hiding. Towards the end of the day when many people were killed more men came and stuck knives in those who lay wounded to make sure they were dead.

By this time, I was lying underneath several dead people, and they thought that I too was dead. That night all you could hear was people wailing. The survivors wandered around discovering who was dead and who the killers hadn't quite managed to kill. I crawled out from beneath some dead bodies, and tried to find my parents but I couldn't find anyone from my family. The next day, the killers returned and the same slaughter happened all over again. It's impossible to tell you how terrible it was.

Three days after the first killing had begun, on 16th April, another group of killers came, this time led by Antoine who had been our neighbour and a friend of our family. As Antoine and his companions passed me by, I held my breath. Later that day, when it seemed that almost everyone was dead, the interahamwe brought their dogs which began eating the dead. That was horrible. When the dogs came near me, I swiped at them and they went off to someone else. But some soldiers walked around checking exactly who was left, and they dragged out 15 people including me.

I knew one of the soldiers, whose name was Fredina. I begged him, "Can you find it in your heart to forgive me for being Tutsi? Please spare me." He spat at me, and said "Is this a hospital that I should forgive you? But I'm not going to smear myself with your blood. I'm going to ask someone else to kill you." He gestured to Antoine, our other neighbour.

"I'm going to kill you," he said, and I put up my hand to protect my head from his machete. Then he began smashing my hands with a clubbed stick, so that my fingers were broken and my skull was bleeding and the pain was terrible. After that he beat me some more on my shoulders and then again on my head, which was agonising and soon the pain was so terrible, that I knew no more. I had passed out.

I stayed among the dead in the Church at Nyarubuye for 43 days without food and only holy water or rain water. Now I'm not sure how I survived. I do remember that in the first few days I was in terrible pain, from the wounds on my head, but then I became like a log; it was as if I couldn't feel and I could barely move, except to crawl out to drink rain water.

During those days, the dogs would come round to eat people, but they became scared of me, so they never came into the room where I lay.

On the 26th May a man appeared who lived near the church. His name I now know was Caliste and when he caught sight of me, he wasn't sure whether I was dead or alive. He brought some food and threw it to me, and then he returned with a white journalist, a mzungo. He was a Frenchmen who'd been making a documentary, about the genocide and he'd been filming all the dead bodies at what I later learnt was the massacre of Nyarubuye when 3,000 people were killed.

Now I am 19, but I feel a lot older. I live with a cousin, who had gone to Kenya, before the war, but now he's returned, and I'm studying at school. Now the church at Nyarubuye has gone back to being a proper church, and I took part in Fergal Keane's film when he returned to find out what had happened to the survivors.

Last summer I went to Arusha to testify at the International Criminal Tribunal for Rwanda (ICTR), where I could see Gacumbitsi. I knew him but of course he didn't know me. He looked fat and healthy and he wore a smart suit with a tie, and he looked contented. I was terrified, and then I felt very angry. That gave me the courage to speak and tell my story. He didn't seem remotely concerned at what I had to say. Then his lawyer asked me questions which made me both scared and furious. What right had they to question my credibility in this way, after what I had suffered? My testimony at the international court brought me no relief. All it did was to make me relive the horror. To me it didn't feel like justice; it just made me relive the horror of what happened in the Church at Nyarubuye.