I had been spending a lot of time over the past two weeks talking to my students about terrorism. In the wake of the Boston Bombings there has been ample discussion about violence, ideology, and religion. Where they all intersect is interesting because it reveals the extent to which our society has some very strong opinions about who can and should citizens. This post will explore the implications of terrorism and citizenship.
I'll start by explaining that there has been a draft of a post about terrorism and citizenship sitting here for some time. I was going to write about the press concerning the terrorist attack in Bulgaria last summer which killed five Israeli tourists. Canadian citizens have been linked to bombings, and this has prompted some potential changes at Citizenship and Immigration Canada. This conversation, however, has been entirely overshadowed by the events that occurred in the United States. That conversation has, in turn, been cast aside by the arrests of two non-citizens who are accused of planning an attack on VIA passenger train.
The attack in Boston was a horrific event. I certainly do not endorse or condone the use of such violence against innocent civilians, but I do believe that it shouldn't be immediately condemned as incomprehensible and cowardly.
The reasons for such actions are complicated, but they are quite understandable. The two men behind the attacks, the Tsarnaev brothers, were from Chechnya, a region that has long been struggling to gain independence from Russia. The conflict is largely unknown in the West. The United States has kept relative neutrality, angering both the Chechen nationalists and the Russians who have been attacked in absolutely astonishing terror attacks. It is patently unclear why the Tsarnaev brothers, permanent residents of the United States, chose to strike in Boston, but the underpinnings are rather easy to imagine.
The second element regards the notion of cowardice. While I won't state that the assailants were valourous, I will state that our notions of cowardice are misguided. It is the average North American who is truly a coward, removed from the world of conflict and oppression. Systems of political, social, and economic hierarchy have produced an unbelievable amount of suffering around the world for westerners it is out of sight and thus out of mind.
I've written about citizenship before, and it's no secret that while I hold great disdain for Stephen Harper, the Conservative for whom I have the greatest frustration is Jason Kenny. His work at Citizenship and Immigration Canada has given him a significant profile. He's frequently in the media talking about foreign workers, the condemnation of international marriages, and of course Islam and terror.
The xenophobic attitudes of many in Canada aren't arbitrary; they are based on a perceived world where all the violence in the modern world is centred around conflict between religions. We live in a world where nationalist and political conflicts are supposedly over. The cause of violent conflict, we are often reminded, is religion. This is manifested in asymmetrical wars like Afghanistan and through acts of incredible terror such as the London bombings.
Citizenship is an often misunderstood concept. It's an abstract idea that someone can belong, in a legal sense, to a community at the state level. Unlike nationalism where inclusion and exclusion can be a significantly contentious and grey matter, citizenship is more matter of fact. Being a "Canadian" in a social sense can involve feeling a connection to the land, the people, the culture, or the institutions. However, citizenship is a legal-political concept that is supposedly black and white. Someone is a citizen of only one or two states and thus is bound by their laws and simultaneously protected as one. Discussions like "if only we had deported them sooner" are quite sad to see.
However, making changes to rules around citizenship that allow people to suddenly lose it defeats the purpose of having citizenship in the first place. It is designed as a special protection that cannot be arbitrarily revoked. The terrorist attack in Bulgaria exposed the xenophobic and Islamophobic attitudes of the Canadian government. It is frankly no surprise given that Jason Kenny has spoken out about other items connected to various others: Muslims, Arabs, and immigrants. The idea is relatively simple, everyone who comes to Canada has to assimilate. Even if they do this well, they will continue to be inferior to "normal" Canadians and will continue to attract the suspicion of the government as well as individual members of society.
This is symptomatic of the way in which racial profiling has destroyed lives, most famously with Maher Arrar. What's worse is that our ideas of crime in Canada are becoming more strict, with punishments doled out in place of working to understand and rehabilitate those who have "offended". The Boston Bombings are no exception. When newly elected Liberal leader Justin Trudeau mentioned that we should try to understand the root causes of such an act, Harper replied by stating that we should "condemn it categorically, and to the extent you can deal with the
perpetrators you deal with them as harshly as possible. And that's what
this government would do if ever faced with such actions".
Ultimately, I'm not convinced that an act of terror should result the loss of one's citizenship. That's a really outrageous penalty considering there will be numerous others that these people will face. These people could become stateless, they can be charged by any manner or organisations or states, and they could be handed over to be tortured. This is simply unacceptable.
Is This Progress? This Is Progress.
Wednesday, 1 May 2013
Saturday, 20 April 2013
Remembering Thatcher
As many of you know, former British Prime Minister Margaret Thatcher, who died on 8 April, had her funeral last week in London. Up until the recent tragedy at the Boston Marathon, Thatcher's death was the lead article. The word that was thrown around continuously was the idea that Thatcher was "divisive" and that her death was surrounded by controversy about her legacy. Numerous groups and invididuals attacked the former Prime Minister for her economic and social reforms, while other tended to revere her for saving Britain.
If you have been consuming all this media and are confused about what to think, you are not alone. I'm struggling with what I feel is Thatcher's legacy. Certain parts of it are simply matters of fact. She cut taxes for the country's elite. She opposed European integration. She didn't relax immigration policies. She stood firm in the struggles in Ireland. What these facts mean requires some careful consideration. Any one of those particular items can be viewed positively or negatively because they are value judgments. And this is my point right here: the idea of encapsulating someone's legacy as good or bad is generally rather difficult in the best of circumstances, though it's certainly preposterous in Thatcher's case. She's complicated, much like each of her individual attributes or her individual policies. I, therefore, am reacting to the fact that media outlets are obsessed with having the last word about her legacy as positive or negative. She was quite a lot of both.
I am not alone in viewing much of Thatcherism as a terrible thing, but I'm also quick to point out that Thatcher certainly had numerous positive impacts: she was nominally pro-choice, supported limited equality rights for queer people, she was the first female leader of a developed country, and recognised that climate change was happening. I'm also careful to note that her policies were reactions to calls from people in various parts of society for change. The most forgotten element in the discussions about Thatcher is the question of to what degree was Britain stagnant or collapsing in the 1970s. There's no right answer, of course, but the more this is explored, the more complicated evaluating Thatcher becomes.
Despite the fact that I have some respect for standing up Thatcher, I'm very much critical of her impact on modern politics. It's not impossible to evaluate her as being simultaneously a devastating force while likewise also fostering desirable growth. There are several angles I'd like to briefly explore.
The first item is that conservative figures are protected by conservative media. The death of Thatcher, like the death of Reagan, has been surrounded by repeated demands for not speaking ill of the dead. While this is a compelling emotional argument, it was nowhere to been seen when Hugo Chavez passed away about a month ago. The conservative bias in media is rather obvious, but events like this certainly make that bias rather glaring. Few newspapers in North America, save at least the Toronto Star, have really published much detailing the darker chapters of Thatcherism.
Another lens I'm keen to discuss is the idea of Thatcher as a female politician is held up as an icon or role model. The best representation of this is the film The Iron Lady. It's seemingly unfeminist to say that Thatcher was a bad Prime Minister (according to more mainstream discourses) because she was the first example of a woman directing foreign and domestic policy as head of government. From my perspective, the idea that she "saved" England has a lot to do with her being perceived as a man. Much in the way that Churchill stared down Hitler, Thatcher had enemies and took them on in an open fashion. She vilified unions in coal mining and what she broadly termed terrorism. Taking defiant positions here, almost in a military style, made her a valuable leader. It also made her popular and gave her the critical support to introduce her reply. In response to labour's demands for fair wages and safe working conditions, she formulated crushing reforms that deregulated the economy further and produced catastrophic results for the lower class. In response to terrorism, she vehemently opposed the notion of violence as a tool of liberation and she supported the Apartheid movement in South Africa. Her maleness comes across best, perhaps, in the fact that she used the 1982 Falklands War as a base for building popular support, drumming up nationalism and militarism. She acted as chief of the navy, the true Iron Lady, using force and coercion to put "rebels" in their place.
Lastly, an important perspective is the notion that "strong" leaders are okay when in a "democratic" context, though not elsewhere. In our society it's quite common to say that leaders like Stalin and Mao were terrible autocrats who, through control of the state, changed policies and wrought havoc on their society. These enemies are easily defined to Westerners because the leaders were never democratically chosen and thus should not have had any legitimacy. However, this becomes much murkier when we talk about other leaders who have, at least at one point, been elected. Chavez, for example, was elected, and so was Hitler. While these examples may be extreme, it is valuable to point out that democracy and authoritarianism are not, in the slightest, mutually exclusive.
I'll close by mentioning the controversy over people wanting to dance on Thatcher's grave. This has caused a sensation in Britain and elsewhere, with many commenting about the morality of such a thing. Most of the comments tended to come from young people who were neither alive in the 1970s nor have any sophisticated knowledge of British economic and social historical narratives. Consider the following: what will happen when Harper passes away? My inkling is that Harper has been as divisive in Canadian politics as Thatcher was for Britain, and perhaps this can lend a helpful vantage point.
If you have been consuming all this media and are confused about what to think, you are not alone. I'm struggling with what I feel is Thatcher's legacy. Certain parts of it are simply matters of fact. She cut taxes for the country's elite. She opposed European integration. She didn't relax immigration policies. She stood firm in the struggles in Ireland. What these facts mean requires some careful consideration. Any one of those particular items can be viewed positively or negatively because they are value judgments. And this is my point right here: the idea of encapsulating someone's legacy as good or bad is generally rather difficult in the best of circumstances, though it's certainly preposterous in Thatcher's case. She's complicated, much like each of her individual attributes or her individual policies. I, therefore, am reacting to the fact that media outlets are obsessed with having the last word about her legacy as positive or negative. She was quite a lot of both.
I am not alone in viewing much of Thatcherism as a terrible thing, but I'm also quick to point out that Thatcher certainly had numerous positive impacts: she was nominally pro-choice, supported limited equality rights for queer people, she was the first female leader of a developed country, and recognised that climate change was happening. I'm also careful to note that her policies were reactions to calls from people in various parts of society for change. The most forgotten element in the discussions about Thatcher is the question of to what degree was Britain stagnant or collapsing in the 1970s. There's no right answer, of course, but the more this is explored, the more complicated evaluating Thatcher becomes.
Despite the fact that I have some respect for standing up Thatcher, I'm very much critical of her impact on modern politics. It's not impossible to evaluate her as being simultaneously a devastating force while likewise also fostering desirable growth. There are several angles I'd like to briefly explore.
The first item is that conservative figures are protected by conservative media. The death of Thatcher, like the death of Reagan, has been surrounded by repeated demands for not speaking ill of the dead. While this is a compelling emotional argument, it was nowhere to been seen when Hugo Chavez passed away about a month ago. The conservative bias in media is rather obvious, but events like this certainly make that bias rather glaring. Few newspapers in North America, save at least the Toronto Star, have really published much detailing the darker chapters of Thatcherism.
Another lens I'm keen to discuss is the idea of Thatcher as a female politician is held up as an icon or role model. The best representation of this is the film The Iron Lady. It's seemingly unfeminist to say that Thatcher was a bad Prime Minister (according to more mainstream discourses) because she was the first example of a woman directing foreign and domestic policy as head of government. From my perspective, the idea that she "saved" England has a lot to do with her being perceived as a man. Much in the way that Churchill stared down Hitler, Thatcher had enemies and took them on in an open fashion. She vilified unions in coal mining and what she broadly termed terrorism. Taking defiant positions here, almost in a military style, made her a valuable leader. It also made her popular and gave her the critical support to introduce her reply. In response to labour's demands for fair wages and safe working conditions, she formulated crushing reforms that deregulated the economy further and produced catastrophic results for the lower class. In response to terrorism, she vehemently opposed the notion of violence as a tool of liberation and she supported the Apartheid movement in South Africa. Her maleness comes across best, perhaps, in the fact that she used the 1982 Falklands War as a base for building popular support, drumming up nationalism and militarism. She acted as chief of the navy, the true Iron Lady, using force and coercion to put "rebels" in their place.
Lastly, an important perspective is the notion that "strong" leaders are okay when in a "democratic" context, though not elsewhere. In our society it's quite common to say that leaders like Stalin and Mao were terrible autocrats who, through control of the state, changed policies and wrought havoc on their society. These enemies are easily defined to Westerners because the leaders were never democratically chosen and thus should not have had any legitimacy. However, this becomes much murkier when we talk about other leaders who have, at least at one point, been elected. Chavez, for example, was elected, and so was Hitler. While these examples may be extreme, it is valuable to point out that democracy and authoritarianism are not, in the slightest, mutually exclusive.
I'll close by mentioning the controversy over people wanting to dance on Thatcher's grave. This has caused a sensation in Britain and elsewhere, with many commenting about the morality of such a thing. Most of the comments tended to come from young people who were neither alive in the 1970s nor have any sophisticated knowledge of British economic and social historical narratives. Consider the following: what will happen when Harper passes away? My inkling is that Harper has been as divisive in Canadian politics as Thatcher was for Britain, and perhaps this can lend a helpful vantage point.
Thursday, 11 April 2013
My New City
Last September I moved to Québec from Ottawa. For a wide variety of personal and professional reasons, I made a leap into the unknown and resettled. I want to share my experience thus far. My impetus for writing this post is essentially to provide my perspective on two key things: what it's like to relocate to a new city on my own and what it's like to live in Québec City as an anglophone.
In 2011 I wrote a blog about Ottawa, mostly encouraging people to get out and enjoy their surroundings. It's been something I've thought about a lot recently since coming to Québec - so much so, in fact, that it got me thinking about writing this post. I've been putting it off for some time, and I figure now is a good time to finally start talking about it.
I have the vantage point of having been in Québec now for seven months. I wanted to live in Québec City for virtually all my life, and I realised that I had to take advantage of any opportunity to do it while I was in my twenties. The first time I ever visited was when I lived in Saguenay in 2008, during the 400th anniversary and summer festival. I fell in love with the city and knew virtually instantaneously that I'd have to move there. I went back again in 2011 and 2012, eventually researching apartments and finding a place to call home.
It seemed to line up nicely that I had recently been certified to teach in Québec, got hired by the local school board, and would hopefully have no trouble getting teaching experience that I could then build a career from. Nothing has really gone according to plan with Québec, and I think that's what has made it very exciting. I have yet to teach in Québec City, but I have been teaching nearby.
Québec and Ottawa are similar, and this is part of why I love it here. There are a lot of green spaces and public squares for locals and tourists alike. The city always ranks high on the list of most livable places. It's large enough to have everything you need, yet small enough to get away from. I also really enjoy the fact that it's very much amenable to an outdoor lifestyle. Not only are there hundreds of kilometres of bike paths, it's a city that is easy to walk. Just outside the city are several national parks, including Parc national de la Jacques-Cartier. There's also an attitude of embracing the outdoors year-round. Despite the fact that I've only lived there so far in Fall, Winter, and Spring, there have been so many outdoor events it's hard to keep track. In the fall there was a cross-country ski race in the upper village. There was an outdoor Christmas market throughout most of December. Carnival takes place for two weeks in February. Crashed Ice was an excellent weekend in March.
Québec is unique. Living there is incredible and I feel as though I live somewhere very special. Architecturally, culturally, and historically, Québec City in unlike any other place in North America. It has a European feel in every sense of the world. Narrow streets in front of buildings that are several centuries old. Small cars parked on steep hills. People are outside everyone, whether riding bicycles, reading under a tree, or checking out the cafés. It's vibrant and exciting.
On the more socio-politcal level, being an anglophone and a Québécois simultaneously is interesting. I'm very thankful that I have an interesting social group in the city, made up of anglophones, francophones, and allophones alike. Before moving to Québec, I knew that language was a significant tension virtually everywhere in the province, made more salient with the recent election of a sovereigntist PQ Government. Just prior to my move, an assassination attempt on the new premier occurred. Violence has seldom been a part of Québec's separatist movement, but the tensions that push that violence forward are never far from the surface.
I'm fortunate to be living here where there's a lot of turmoil around language. The PQ has really failed to take significant policy positions on anything, with the exception of sovereignty. As such, language politics are always in the news. I listen to the news in French and English here and try to talk to as many francophones and anglophones as I can about current events. Currently the STM is debating whether or not to offer services bilingually. There is also a lot of discussion about a proposed bill that will limit the rights of communities with sizable English populations. There are numerous other items all occurring at the provincial level and at the municipal level where anglophones live in greater number.
Despite the fact that there is a lot of bad blood between French and English, the discourse is not static. My experience with ethnic and linguistic tension has come from being places (like Montréal or Sherbrooke) where there are large anglophone populations. However, living in Québec is similar to my experience living in Saguenay several years ago. The not-so-shocking truth is that Québécois who have limited exposure to anglophones don't dislike them outright: francophones are frustrated by English people refusing to speak French. As an anglophone in Québec, I've come to note that Québécois tend to really appreciate it when people make real efforts to not only speak their language but to similarly understand their culture. I've had a universally positive experience with francophones since moving to the province, and they know I'm English because they can hear my accent (which they all agree is "Franco-Ontarien").
I'm honestly quite excited to see what happens in the coming months as there are a lot of items on the table. I'll be staying in the province for the foreseeable future, though it's unclear if I'll be moving somewhere where there are more anglophones. I hope that this post makes you consider visiting my city. We'd love to have you!
In 2011 I wrote a blog about Ottawa, mostly encouraging people to get out and enjoy their surroundings. It's been something I've thought about a lot recently since coming to Québec - so much so, in fact, that it got me thinking about writing this post. I've been putting it off for some time, and I figure now is a good time to finally start talking about it.
I have the vantage point of having been in Québec now for seven months. I wanted to live in Québec City for virtually all my life, and I realised that I had to take advantage of any opportunity to do it while I was in my twenties. The first time I ever visited was when I lived in Saguenay in 2008, during the 400th anniversary and summer festival. I fell in love with the city and knew virtually instantaneously that I'd have to move there. I went back again in 2011 and 2012, eventually researching apartments and finding a place to call home.
It seemed to line up nicely that I had recently been certified to teach in Québec, got hired by the local school board, and would hopefully have no trouble getting teaching experience that I could then build a career from. Nothing has really gone according to plan with Québec, and I think that's what has made it very exciting. I have yet to teach in Québec City, but I have been teaching nearby.
Québec and Ottawa are similar, and this is part of why I love it here. There are a lot of green spaces and public squares for locals and tourists alike. The city always ranks high on the list of most livable places. It's large enough to have everything you need, yet small enough to get away from. I also really enjoy the fact that it's very much amenable to an outdoor lifestyle. Not only are there hundreds of kilometres of bike paths, it's a city that is easy to walk. Just outside the city are several national parks, including Parc national de la Jacques-Cartier. There's also an attitude of embracing the outdoors year-round. Despite the fact that I've only lived there so far in Fall, Winter, and Spring, there have been so many outdoor events it's hard to keep track. In the fall there was a cross-country ski race in the upper village. There was an outdoor Christmas market throughout most of December. Carnival takes place for two weeks in February. Crashed Ice was an excellent weekend in March.
Québec is unique. Living there is incredible and I feel as though I live somewhere very special. Architecturally, culturally, and historically, Québec City in unlike any other place in North America. It has a European feel in every sense of the world. Narrow streets in front of buildings that are several centuries old. Small cars parked on steep hills. People are outside everyone, whether riding bicycles, reading under a tree, or checking out the cafés. It's vibrant and exciting.
On the more socio-politcal level, being an anglophone and a Québécois simultaneously is interesting. I'm very thankful that I have an interesting social group in the city, made up of anglophones, francophones, and allophones alike. Before moving to Québec, I knew that language was a significant tension virtually everywhere in the province, made more salient with the recent election of a sovereigntist PQ Government. Just prior to my move, an assassination attempt on the new premier occurred. Violence has seldom been a part of Québec's separatist movement, but the tensions that push that violence forward are never far from the surface.
I'm fortunate to be living here where there's a lot of turmoil around language. The PQ has really failed to take significant policy positions on anything, with the exception of sovereignty. As such, language politics are always in the news. I listen to the news in French and English here and try to talk to as many francophones and anglophones as I can about current events. Currently the STM is debating whether or not to offer services bilingually. There is also a lot of discussion about a proposed bill that will limit the rights of communities with sizable English populations. There are numerous other items all occurring at the provincial level and at the municipal level where anglophones live in greater number.
Despite the fact that there is a lot of bad blood between French and English, the discourse is not static. My experience with ethnic and linguistic tension has come from being places (like Montréal or Sherbrooke) where there are large anglophone populations. However, living in Québec is similar to my experience living in Saguenay several years ago. The not-so-shocking truth is that Québécois who have limited exposure to anglophones don't dislike them outright: francophones are frustrated by English people refusing to speak French. As an anglophone in Québec, I've come to note that Québécois tend to really appreciate it when people make real efforts to not only speak their language but to similarly understand their culture. I've had a universally positive experience with francophones since moving to the province, and they know I'm English because they can hear my accent (which they all agree is "Franco-Ontarien").
I'm honestly quite excited to see what happens in the coming months as there are a lot of items on the table. I'll be staying in the province for the foreseeable future, though it's unclear if I'll be moving somewhere where there are more anglophones. I hope that this post makes you consider visiting my city. We'd love to have you!
Monday, 1 April 2013
Sense and Sensibility: Gender and Power
For those of you who know me well can attest, I identify as a feminist. Talking about gender has indeed featured in many of my posts to date, such as "It's Not Sexism: It's Science". In fact, one of the most-read posts in Kaputall history is Men and Housework from way back in December 2011.
That said, I've been asked about why I haven't written one post detailing my overarching principles around my feminist identity. Instead, it's something that I intend to sketch out through posts about various topics. My reasoning is straightforward: feminism is complex and I don't have simple answers to what causes oppression and how to alleviate it. I hold contradictory views simultaneously and I'm rather flexible and circumstantial. My views and experiences are a microcosm of feminism as a movement - it's also disparate, paradoxical, and fluid. Women's history month just passed, and following the stories on my favourite feminist websites like Jezebel, Feministing, and The Atlantic gave me stark reminders of just how divisive talking about feminism can be. Just have a look at this article about different values in feminism across time and class.
Today I want to talk briefly about listening to a CBC radio discussion about women in the corporate world alongside a debate about the merits of chivalry. Both were carried on Q last Thursday.
First was a discussion with Facebook COO Sheryl Sandberg who has made a significant career move by authoring a new book entitled Lean In: Women, Work, and the Will to Lead. Her book tries to advance the discussion about gender equality, because she fears that the trend toward equality is stagnating. She points, for example, to the fact that in most western countries women hold only 5 per cent of top positions in the private sector.
Instead of focusing, as much academic work has, on the socio-economic barriers that women face, she attempts to view the problem from the lens of women "limiting themselves". She covers a wide range of issues, from women needing to be more aggressive, to needing to put success first, to embracing risk-taking. It's all quite convincing, actually, the notion of empowering yourself and bettering your social location. However, instead of talking about what's wrong with our patriarchal notions of gender and why we have to conform to these narrow boxes, she's effectively arguing that women should just be more like men.
The last element that gets me is whether or not her story reflects other people's experiences. There's a lot of discussion about this and it's a quagmire, so I'll tread lightly. I think it's simply fair to ask, is the story of one of the world's wealthiest and most powerful women truly representative of some type of universal female experience? And by extension, is her advice sound or even relevant?
The second piece was a debate about chivalry. Emily Esfahani Smith recently wrote a piece entitled Let's Give Chivalry Another Chance where she argued that there were benefits to chivalry, and that today's society is boorish and disrespectful to women. The value of chivalry is effectively predicated on the notion that a well-ordered world with rules is less confusing and therefore better for everyone. She asks is chivalry and inequality necessarily go hand-in-hand. She notes that women are not weaker than men in every aspect, but that gentlemanly behaviour is essential to combating objectification, assault, and other ills that she argues are the product of men not treating women with a chivalrous deference.
Opposing her in the debate was renowned psychologist Peter Glick, who argues that chivalry is a form of "benevolent sexism", something that is directly correlated to more hostile forms of sexism. Chivalry, he argues, is deeply rooted in the notion that women cannot take care of themselves. Women are, in deeply patriarchal societies, treated as though they are elevated so long as they conform to certain norms - the pedestal. If they do not fit the narrow definition, or if they fall off, there are often significant social consequences. Glick argues that chivalry is a terrible idea because of the power dynamic it establishes, and suggests that everyone should merely just be nicer when the circumstances are right, rather than just because someone is a woman.
I took some time to reflect after listening to both stories in order to try to understand how it is that they intersect. It's complicated because these two segments hit on so many different gendered aspects of modern society.
Both pieces address the question of equality, albeit from different perspectives. Sandberg argues that women need to embrace the characteristics that are attributed to men, while Esfahani Smith suggests that women should receive preferential treatment by virtue of being weaker in some ways. This gets at a central tenet to the broader gender debate: are men and women different? This is a substantial and controversial question, and one that spawns numerous others. Should men and women be treated differently? Should we strive for equity or equality? How do we do this?
I don't know the answers to these questions, but I will make a few comments. I believe that there is a remarkable diversity within genders and a remarkable similarity across genders. Humans understand the world by creating categories, often to our great detriment. Chivalry, in my opinion, tacitly supports having widely different gender roles for men and women. Wealthy and powerful women in business, on the other end of the spectrum, often want the erasure of femininity. It's often necessary for these women to change their understanding of feminism in order to fit into a "market-normative world view". The notion that you can change market norms through participation has proved to be seldom effective.
Navigating a line, somewhere in between eliminating gender differences and reducing it to a binary, is where virtually all feminists reside. There is a lot of tension in trying to figure out exactly where someone stands, but it's helpful to take note that they don't occupy one small space, but numerous flexible and paradoxical places simultaneously. That's perhaps my only constant in the way I conceptualise feminism.
That said, I've been asked about why I haven't written one post detailing my overarching principles around my feminist identity. Instead, it's something that I intend to sketch out through posts about various topics. My reasoning is straightforward: feminism is complex and I don't have simple answers to what causes oppression and how to alleviate it. I hold contradictory views simultaneously and I'm rather flexible and circumstantial. My views and experiences are a microcosm of feminism as a movement - it's also disparate, paradoxical, and fluid. Women's history month just passed, and following the stories on my favourite feminist websites like Jezebel, Feministing, and The Atlantic gave me stark reminders of just how divisive talking about feminism can be. Just have a look at this article about different values in feminism across time and class.
Today I want to talk briefly about listening to a CBC radio discussion about women in the corporate world alongside a debate about the merits of chivalry. Both were carried on Q last Thursday.
First was a discussion with Facebook COO Sheryl Sandberg who has made a significant career move by authoring a new book entitled Lean In: Women, Work, and the Will to Lead. Her book tries to advance the discussion about gender equality, because she fears that the trend toward equality is stagnating. She points, for example, to the fact that in most western countries women hold only 5 per cent of top positions in the private sector.
Instead of focusing, as much academic work has, on the socio-economic barriers that women face, she attempts to view the problem from the lens of women "limiting themselves". She covers a wide range of issues, from women needing to be more aggressive, to needing to put success first, to embracing risk-taking. It's all quite convincing, actually, the notion of empowering yourself and bettering your social location. However, instead of talking about what's wrong with our patriarchal notions of gender and why we have to conform to these narrow boxes, she's effectively arguing that women should just be more like men.
The last element that gets me is whether or not her story reflects other people's experiences. There's a lot of discussion about this and it's a quagmire, so I'll tread lightly. I think it's simply fair to ask, is the story of one of the world's wealthiest and most powerful women truly representative of some type of universal female experience? And by extension, is her advice sound or even relevant?
The second piece was a debate about chivalry. Emily Esfahani Smith recently wrote a piece entitled Let's Give Chivalry Another Chance where she argued that there were benefits to chivalry, and that today's society is boorish and disrespectful to women. The value of chivalry is effectively predicated on the notion that a well-ordered world with rules is less confusing and therefore better for everyone. She asks is chivalry and inequality necessarily go hand-in-hand. She notes that women are not weaker than men in every aspect, but that gentlemanly behaviour is essential to combating objectification, assault, and other ills that she argues are the product of men not treating women with a chivalrous deference.
Opposing her in the debate was renowned psychologist Peter Glick, who argues that chivalry is a form of "benevolent sexism", something that is directly correlated to more hostile forms of sexism. Chivalry, he argues, is deeply rooted in the notion that women cannot take care of themselves. Women are, in deeply patriarchal societies, treated as though they are elevated so long as they conform to certain norms - the pedestal. If they do not fit the narrow definition, or if they fall off, there are often significant social consequences. Glick argues that chivalry is a terrible idea because of the power dynamic it establishes, and suggests that everyone should merely just be nicer when the circumstances are right, rather than just because someone is a woman.
I took some time to reflect after listening to both stories in order to try to understand how it is that they intersect. It's complicated because these two segments hit on so many different gendered aspects of modern society.
Both pieces address the question of equality, albeit from different perspectives. Sandberg argues that women need to embrace the characteristics that are attributed to men, while Esfahani Smith suggests that women should receive preferential treatment by virtue of being weaker in some ways. This gets at a central tenet to the broader gender debate: are men and women different? This is a substantial and controversial question, and one that spawns numerous others. Should men and women be treated differently? Should we strive for equity or equality? How do we do this?
I don't know the answers to these questions, but I will make a few comments. I believe that there is a remarkable diversity within genders and a remarkable similarity across genders. Humans understand the world by creating categories, often to our great detriment. Chivalry, in my opinion, tacitly supports having widely different gender roles for men and women. Wealthy and powerful women in business, on the other end of the spectrum, often want the erasure of femininity. It's often necessary for these women to change their understanding of feminism in order to fit into a "market-normative world view". The notion that you can change market norms through participation has proved to be seldom effective.
Navigating a line, somewhere in between eliminating gender differences and reducing it to a binary, is where virtually all feminists reside. There is a lot of tension in trying to figure out exactly where someone stands, but it's helpful to take note that they don't occupy one small space, but numerous flexible and paradoxical places simultaneously. That's perhaps my only constant in the way I conceptualise feminism.
Thursday, 28 March 2013
Some Thoughts: Travel and Privilege
I'm not a world traveller. The list of countries I've visited is, by comparison to most you encounter abroad, minimal. Still, I've been places. Some international, some not. I consider myself exceptionally well-travelled within Canada. Particularly within my home provinces of Ontario and Québec. I've been to diverse regions of the United States, I've seen four countries in Europe (Italy, Switzerland, Austria, and Slovenia), and I recently returned from South America, where I spent two weeks in Chile.
This post is the third in a short series about my adventure to Chile. In my first post I detailed my personal experience with seeing South America. In the second, I talked about the socio-economic realities of modern Chile. This post is the one I was looking forward most to writing: I'll be discussion the dynamics of travel in the globalised capitalist world.
The logical starting point seems to be to talk about the evolution of travel. It is characterised by many as a modern phenomenon, but I don't believe that's a good fit. Here's why. In a Western context, travel has always existed, though those who could travel were almost exclusively society's elite. It was a function of wealth, since those with little resources could not afford to pick up and leave. It was similarly a function of social status, where only those who were particularly well-known would be able to cross borders without much trouble. As a result, travel was privilege. The only experience that most people would have with travel would be moving, which was an uprooting experience felt by many who were rich and poor. Some were forced, such as Palestinian Resettlement, the Acadian Expulsion, the Trail of Tears, or the Boers interned in South Africa. Others made more voluntary moves: In the eighteenth century German farmers would relocate to urban areas, in nineteenth century America settlers would move west, and in twentieth century Britain, tens of thousands would leave by ocean liner.
Notions of travel changed with the so-called creation of the middle class. In the 1920s most western societies became stratified based on income and a middle class emerged with access to resources and, more importantly, free time. Travel at this point consisted of being able to go from town to town, something which became all the more common with the Great Depression. Riding the rails became a means not only of finding work, but also of experiencing a world larger than that of your farm or neighbourhood. This was a generation finding itself through easy-to-access travel. In the post-war period, the car became the way to experience travel. Most developed countries established networks of highways, like France's Autoroutes and the United States Interstate System. People could travel further and faster, and with more flexibility, but now it required more privilege: access to a car. In the 1980s it was all the hype for North Americans to go to Europe to "find themselves". Backpacking around Europe became a rite of passage to adulthood, one awarded to predominately white, middle class, North Americans. Several decades later, it's now Thailand, Vietnam, or Korea. Again, it's a reflection of privilege. You have to be able to afford flying.
Having just flown down to South America, I can safely say that airfare is a significant financial obstacle. A round-trip flight to Santiago was over one thousand dollars. I had to absorb this large cost, something which my privilege afforded me, allowing me access to South America, where my currency has strong buying power. This allowed me to travel very cheaply. Taking intercity bus rides for about five dollars, having dinners that cost less than ten dollars, and staying in hostels for fifteen dollars per night.
I was aware of my privilege in travelling - that historical forces had created an uneven world that allowed those with the advantage to experience the world. However, I felt as though this didn't strike my fellow travellers. We all made more impacts on the societies we visited than we might realise. From jet fuel, to supporting black markets, to reprioritising how resources are allocated, travelling damages the planet and society at the local and international levels.
All this to say, I'm aware that our generation is one raised in a travel culture. The message to relatively affluent North Americans is that the world is there to be discovered. Look on your Facebook news feed and see how far you can go without seeing someone's pictures for a recent trip, someone talking about travelling, or an ad on the side telling you about hotels or flights. It's difficult, but it's a representation of the value that's placed on travel in our society, something that is instilled into us in order to support a massive international industry.
This post is the third in a short series about my adventure to Chile. In my first post I detailed my personal experience with seeing South America. In the second, I talked about the socio-economic realities of modern Chile. This post is the one I was looking forward most to writing: I'll be discussion the dynamics of travel in the globalised capitalist world.
The logical starting point seems to be to talk about the evolution of travel. It is characterised by many as a modern phenomenon, but I don't believe that's a good fit. Here's why. In a Western context, travel has always existed, though those who could travel were almost exclusively society's elite. It was a function of wealth, since those with little resources could not afford to pick up and leave. It was similarly a function of social status, where only those who were particularly well-known would be able to cross borders without much trouble. As a result, travel was privilege. The only experience that most people would have with travel would be moving, which was an uprooting experience felt by many who were rich and poor. Some were forced, such as Palestinian Resettlement, the Acadian Expulsion, the Trail of Tears, or the Boers interned in South Africa. Others made more voluntary moves: In the eighteenth century German farmers would relocate to urban areas, in nineteenth century America settlers would move west, and in twentieth century Britain, tens of thousands would leave by ocean liner.
Notions of travel changed with the so-called creation of the middle class. In the 1920s most western societies became stratified based on income and a middle class emerged with access to resources and, more importantly, free time. Travel at this point consisted of being able to go from town to town, something which became all the more common with the Great Depression. Riding the rails became a means not only of finding work, but also of experiencing a world larger than that of your farm or neighbourhood. This was a generation finding itself through easy-to-access travel. In the post-war period, the car became the way to experience travel. Most developed countries established networks of highways, like France's Autoroutes and the United States Interstate System. People could travel further and faster, and with more flexibility, but now it required more privilege: access to a car. In the 1980s it was all the hype for North Americans to go to Europe to "find themselves". Backpacking around Europe became a rite of passage to adulthood, one awarded to predominately white, middle class, North Americans. Several decades later, it's now Thailand, Vietnam, or Korea. Again, it's a reflection of privilege. You have to be able to afford flying.
Having just flown down to South America, I can safely say that airfare is a significant financial obstacle. A round-trip flight to Santiago was over one thousand dollars. I had to absorb this large cost, something which my privilege afforded me, allowing me access to South America, where my currency has strong buying power. This allowed me to travel very cheaply. Taking intercity bus rides for about five dollars, having dinners that cost less than ten dollars, and staying in hostels for fifteen dollars per night.
I was aware of my privilege in travelling - that historical forces had created an uneven world that allowed those with the advantage to experience the world. However, I felt as though this didn't strike my fellow travellers. We all made more impacts on the societies we visited than we might realise. From jet fuel, to supporting black markets, to reprioritising how resources are allocated, travelling damages the planet and society at the local and international levels.
All this to say, I'm aware that our generation is one raised in a travel culture. The message to relatively affluent North Americans is that the world is there to be discovered. Look on your Facebook news feed and see how far you can go without seeing someone's pictures for a recent trip, someone talking about travelling, or an ad on the side telling you about hotels or flights. It's difficult, but it's a representation of the value that's placed on travel in our society, something that is instilled into us in order to support a massive international industry.
Wednesday, 20 March 2013
Modern South America
This is the second of three entries about my recent trip to Chile. My first post looked at my personal reflections on visiting South America for the first time. I intend to discuss here my perceptions of Chile's socio-economic realities. I'll argue that South America is widely misunderstood by the West, and that it straddles the traditional North-South divide, making it in incredible place to visit as a reflection and distortion of the modern neoliberal archetype.
Chile's history is fascinating, and it's truly a shame that so few people know anything about the nation's past. A significant part of this is our longstanding Eurocentric worldview, which dictates that what happens in the "West" is more important. The people, places, and events in Western society are thought to be the only relevant parts of our global consciousness and trajectory, and thus the exclusive focus on North America and Europe was standard practice until a few decades ago. The rise of India, China, and societies in the Middle East and Africa has informed new ways of teaching and learning history. When I was an undergraduate these fields were relatively new, and historians studying these regions were teaching introductory courses and honours seminars on topics as diverse as the Chinese Cultural Revolution and Decolonisation in Africa. These collections of narratives and points of analysis are now part of a larger whole, the study of history.
However, non-Western history may be flourishing at the post-secondary level, though it's not actively part of the curricula in North American public institutions. When it does make an appearance, it is an insertion to describe the development of other, presumably more important, societies like Canada. Chile, like the rest of South America, seems not to have enjoyed the interest of the academy and popular history. It's fascinating to me, particularly since I just read the 1972 watershed piece, Open Veins of Latin America, by Uruguayan journalist Eduardo Galeano. While there is no clear answer why South America remains the "forgotten continent" there is, unsurprisingly, much silence about the rich and terrifying history of South America. Even when substantial events occur, like the death of Hugo Chávez, media attention is remarkably scant. This is, in my opinion, partly because the death of Venezuela's leader was viewed as irrelevant, and partly because the radical new socialism was so unbelievably threatening that it was best left unmentioned.
I like to come at history from the position as an insider (as an historian) and an outsider (as a political economist). My training from all disciplines has led to me to be an active seeker of information. I can never get enough of reading, listening to radio debates, or watching documentaries. My knowledge of the world is small, but it's a functional patchwork of facts and analyses, one that's always in flux. The historian in me is interested in the way in which we talk about the past. The questions I most ask myself is, "whom do we find to be credible and why?". As a political economist, I like to examine this question through the lens of the relationship between the economy and society.
South America is generally considered part of the of the Global South. Like most definitions that are set up to place the world into categories, it's jargon. Perhaps the most immediate way to realise this is to note that in some instances, Chile is considered to be part of the Global North, and in some instances, the Global South. The lines are blurred, as they should be, but in the West we make inferences and assumptions about countries based on the categories they belong to. We're therefore taught to believe that Pakistan is full of terrorists, while Germany is full of wealth. These labels may be helpful in starting conversations or framing comparisons, they are not absolutes and become exceedingly dangerous when projected that way.
The North-South divide has a massive historical context that could itself be a series of posts. I'll be brief. Westerners, long before they gave themselves that label, have categorised the world throughout history. The terminology has changed: Europe as an idea, then Christendom, then the West, then the First World, then the Developed World, and now the Global North. This discourse will change as patterns of political, military, and economic hegemony evolves. Suffice to say, it's complicated, but it always serves to develop a binary when no such thing truly exists.
Each of these changes above can be described by changing realities on a global scale such as the spread of Christianity, the Industrial Revolution, and the Cold War. In recent decades, the primary for changing the fabric of societies has been globalisation. Again, this is a tricky word, and I'll steer away from defining by pointing out that there are numerous congruent and contradictory perspectives. What's important is what has transpired since the 1980s in a global sense, and that has been the deregulation of national economies, the adoption of free trade, and the increased prevalence of private property. Together, these strands form neoliberal economics, and are the primary way in which the world is organised - though not ubiquitously.
A large part of this comes down to the question of "can we quantify development?". The answer is, to a certain degree. And that's, finally, where Chile comes in. As mentioned above, there seems to be minimal consensus about where Chile fits on the spectrum of development. This is an impression that I first noticed when I arrived in Chile, and then became all the more confusing as I went along. My first footstep in Chile was into a multi-billion dollar aeroport, followed by a bus ride through some very sketchy neighbourhoods. Once in downtown, I was affronted by beautiful skyscrapers and clean public spaces located in close proximity to dilapidated buildings and a repulsive canal. Underneath Santiago was a state-of-the-art metro system. Above was a cloud of smog.
In other words, what I encountered in Santiago was a copy of what you might see in any North American city. Inequality was everywhere. Likewise, urban areas were substantially more developed than the rest of the country, something that would be noted visiting Canada. Environmental degradation existed everywhere, caused by industry, infrastructure, and travel, much like you'd experience in the West.
The longer I stayed in Chile, the more I realised that I was experiencing a culture that reflected my own more than it did produce alternatives. I was pleased to see a greater saturation of co-operatives, a lesser dependence on cars, and a greater sense of community. However, the reality is that Chile is governed by politicians who guard economic growth as sacred. There's litter on the street, homelessness is a serious concern, and inequality is steadily increasing.
Chile also felt very safe and appeared not to have any more corruption than other Western societies. People were engaged with work and seemed entrepreneurial, though they simultaneously made sure to not let work dictate their lives to them. Nothing operated on a clear schedule, which was madly frustrating to me at first, but then became an acceptable norm. The constraints of rigid times were not entirely disregarded, but there was never a push to respect them in the interests of efficiency. As a result, Chileans seemed content and much less likely to be stressed.
While the world may be a sprawling expanse, it is becoming more homogeneous through numerous forces like increased communication, easier travel, and free trade. My short trip to Chile certainly helped me think extensively on the subject of development, allowing me to write this rather longwinded post. I hope you found it interesting. Next week I'll be writing about travelling and privilege with further reflections from my trip to Chile.
Chile's history is fascinating, and it's truly a shame that so few people know anything about the nation's past. A significant part of this is our longstanding Eurocentric worldview, which dictates that what happens in the "West" is more important. The people, places, and events in Western society are thought to be the only relevant parts of our global consciousness and trajectory, and thus the exclusive focus on North America and Europe was standard practice until a few decades ago. The rise of India, China, and societies in the Middle East and Africa has informed new ways of teaching and learning history. When I was an undergraduate these fields were relatively new, and historians studying these regions were teaching introductory courses and honours seminars on topics as diverse as the Chinese Cultural Revolution and Decolonisation in Africa. These collections of narratives and points of analysis are now part of a larger whole, the study of history.
However, non-Western history may be flourishing at the post-secondary level, though it's not actively part of the curricula in North American public institutions. When it does make an appearance, it is an insertion to describe the development of other, presumably more important, societies like Canada. Chile, like the rest of South America, seems not to have enjoyed the interest of the academy and popular history. It's fascinating to me, particularly since I just read the 1972 watershed piece, Open Veins of Latin America, by Uruguayan journalist Eduardo Galeano. While there is no clear answer why South America remains the "forgotten continent" there is, unsurprisingly, much silence about the rich and terrifying history of South America. Even when substantial events occur, like the death of Hugo Chávez, media attention is remarkably scant. This is, in my opinion, partly because the death of Venezuela's leader was viewed as irrelevant, and partly because the radical new socialism was so unbelievably threatening that it was best left unmentioned.
I like to come at history from the position as an insider (as an historian) and an outsider (as a political economist). My training from all disciplines has led to me to be an active seeker of information. I can never get enough of reading, listening to radio debates, or watching documentaries. My knowledge of the world is small, but it's a functional patchwork of facts and analyses, one that's always in flux. The historian in me is interested in the way in which we talk about the past. The questions I most ask myself is, "whom do we find to be credible and why?". As a political economist, I like to examine this question through the lens of the relationship between the economy and society.
South America is generally considered part of the of the Global South. Like most definitions that are set up to place the world into categories, it's jargon. Perhaps the most immediate way to realise this is to note that in some instances, Chile is considered to be part of the Global North, and in some instances, the Global South. The lines are blurred, as they should be, but in the West we make inferences and assumptions about countries based on the categories they belong to. We're therefore taught to believe that Pakistan is full of terrorists, while Germany is full of wealth. These labels may be helpful in starting conversations or framing comparisons, they are not absolutes and become exceedingly dangerous when projected that way.
The North-South divide has a massive historical context that could itself be a series of posts. I'll be brief. Westerners, long before they gave themselves that label, have categorised the world throughout history. The terminology has changed: Europe as an idea, then Christendom, then the West, then the First World, then the Developed World, and now the Global North. This discourse will change as patterns of political, military, and economic hegemony evolves. Suffice to say, it's complicated, but it always serves to develop a binary when no such thing truly exists.
Each of these changes above can be described by changing realities on a global scale such as the spread of Christianity, the Industrial Revolution, and the Cold War. In recent decades, the primary for changing the fabric of societies has been globalisation. Again, this is a tricky word, and I'll steer away from defining by pointing out that there are numerous congruent and contradictory perspectives. What's important is what has transpired since the 1980s in a global sense, and that has been the deregulation of national economies, the adoption of free trade, and the increased prevalence of private property. Together, these strands form neoliberal economics, and are the primary way in which the world is organised - though not ubiquitously.
A large part of this comes down to the question of "can we quantify development?". The answer is, to a certain degree. And that's, finally, where Chile comes in. As mentioned above, there seems to be minimal consensus about where Chile fits on the spectrum of development. This is an impression that I first noticed when I arrived in Chile, and then became all the more confusing as I went along. My first footstep in Chile was into a multi-billion dollar aeroport, followed by a bus ride through some very sketchy neighbourhoods. Once in downtown, I was affronted by beautiful skyscrapers and clean public spaces located in close proximity to dilapidated buildings and a repulsive canal. Underneath Santiago was a state-of-the-art metro system. Above was a cloud of smog.
In other words, what I encountered in Santiago was a copy of what you might see in any North American city. Inequality was everywhere. Likewise, urban areas were substantially more developed than the rest of the country, something that would be noted visiting Canada. Environmental degradation existed everywhere, caused by industry, infrastructure, and travel, much like you'd experience in the West.
The longer I stayed in Chile, the more I realised that I was experiencing a culture that reflected my own more than it did produce alternatives. I was pleased to see a greater saturation of co-operatives, a lesser dependence on cars, and a greater sense of community. However, the reality is that Chile is governed by politicians who guard economic growth as sacred. There's litter on the street, homelessness is a serious concern, and inequality is steadily increasing.
Chile also felt very safe and appeared not to have any more corruption than other Western societies. People were engaged with work and seemed entrepreneurial, though they simultaneously made sure to not let work dictate their lives to them. Nothing operated on a clear schedule, which was madly frustrating to me at first, but then became an acceptable norm. The constraints of rigid times were not entirely disregarded, but there was never a push to respect them in the interests of efficiency. As a result, Chileans seemed content and much less likely to be stressed.
While the world may be a sprawling expanse, it is becoming more homogeneous through numerous forces like increased communication, easier travel, and free trade. My short trip to Chile certainly helped me think extensively on the subject of development, allowing me to write this rather longwinded post. I hope you found it interesting. Next week I'll be writing about travelling and privilege with further reflections from my trip to Chile.
Thursday, 14 March 2013
An Adventure in Chile
I just arrived back in Canada from two weeks of travel in Chile. On
the numerous flights back from South America I thought that it would be a
great idea to blog about my experiences there. I realised that what I
needed to say could not really be expressed in one blog; instead, I'd
need to cover it in a short series. There were three major threads to my
trip, and I'll address each of them in the next week or so in separate
blogs. The first will be my impressions about seeing Chile and South
America. The second will be about the socio-economic realities of Chile
and my insight as a westerner. The final post will talk about privilege
and travel.
I hope you'll take the time to read some of my material whether or not you've travelled or know anything about South America. As I mentioned, this post will look at my individual experience with Chile. It'll be the most informal of all the posts as I'll be effectively reflecting on two weeks of soaking in a beautiful and misunderstood country.
I stepped out of the aeroport in Santiago into the warm air. It was sunny, and I was surrounded by green. While flying down, I peered out of the tiny porthole beside me to notice that Santiago was a beautiful island enclosed by towering green and white mountains. The city appeared to perched on a desert, brown and sandy. When I was on the ground it was a grassy paradise. We took a shuttle into downtown, along the way passing shantytowns and parks. Once at the terminal, we shunted ourselves into the Santiago Metro, which is an amazing public transit system. It was clean and busy, at no matter what hour. I noticed that people sat with their smart phones and were listening to English pop music. Once I emerged from the metro station I was standing in a beautiful plaza with statues and trees. Cars navigated the roundabout and I stared up at towering apartments and offices. I felt as though I was in Venice and Vancouver.
I only managed to convince Kelly that we stay in Santiago for one night. I was enamoured and intrigued by the bustling city of nearly six million. It was the first time I was in a place that people might consider non-western or developing, and I wanted to see what the city had to offer. The most vivid memory I have is of standing at the gate to the national stadium. Used by Pinochet in the mid-1970s as a site to torture dissidents, the stadium is unassuming. There is no plaque, no statue. No commemoration and, sadly, no mention of its terrifying past. I stared at the field, locked behind red bars, and I thought about the tens of thousands who disappeared, many of whom had been held here. It was shocking to me to see the degree to which the suffering was erased, disavowed. In the aeroport two weeks later I watched Universidad de Chile play there while the crowds cheered in delight some four decades after the arena was host to crimes against humanity.
The next day we trekked by bus to Valparaìso and Viña del Mar, two beautiful cities along the Pacific coast. They hug the shoreline, bounded to the sea by the sprawling mountains. Valparaìso is an industrial port city, and it has all the grime despite being adorned in the most beautiful reds and oranges and yellows, all set against the green and blue its surroundings. It is a city rich in character and culture - a site for immigration and the entry point to Chile for most of its existence. Only twenty kilometres away is Viña del Mar, which is a flourishing resort community full of flashy cars and European tourists. The feel is completely different than that of its neighbour, though it's something to appreciate for its uniqueness. It's commercial, unlike anything else I saw in Chile, including the capital. Wealth is displayed virtually everywhere, in the architecture, in the public gardens, in the people. It was truly fascinating to see these two cities, stuck side-by-side.
For the rest of the trip Kelly and I were in the southern reaches of Chile, in Patagonia. We visited Punta Arenas before taking the bus north to Puerto Natales. After spending some time in the small community, we headed to Torres del Paine, one of South America's most famous natural wonders. The park is a massive sanctuary, but it's full of hikers from the global north, myself included. I felt a sense of freedom being away from civilisation, though I never escaped thinking about the degree to which tourism was damaging this fragile natural environment. Nevertheless, the trekking and camping was unforgettable. I saw my first iceberg, marvelled at the wildlife, and was surrounded by towering mountains and pristine glacial lakes.
Sadly, visiting those six locales took up my two weeks, and I headed back home to Canada. Chile was a place I'll always remember fondly, and I already look forward to going back there sometime. The flight home was bittersweet as I longed to remain in my new habitat, but I found myself ready to come back to my real life. In the dying hours of my trip, I made a commitment to myself to write a short series of blogs about my experience. I hope you enjoyed this one, and stay tuned my next post which will examine the socio-economic condition of Chile.
I hope you'll take the time to read some of my material whether or not you've travelled or know anything about South America. As I mentioned, this post will look at my individual experience with Chile. It'll be the most informal of all the posts as I'll be effectively reflecting on two weeks of soaking in a beautiful and misunderstood country.
I stepped out of the aeroport in Santiago into the warm air. It was sunny, and I was surrounded by green. While flying down, I peered out of the tiny porthole beside me to notice that Santiago was a beautiful island enclosed by towering green and white mountains. The city appeared to perched on a desert, brown and sandy. When I was on the ground it was a grassy paradise. We took a shuttle into downtown, along the way passing shantytowns and parks. Once at the terminal, we shunted ourselves into the Santiago Metro, which is an amazing public transit system. It was clean and busy, at no matter what hour. I noticed that people sat with their smart phones and were listening to English pop music. Once I emerged from the metro station I was standing in a beautiful plaza with statues and trees. Cars navigated the roundabout and I stared up at towering apartments and offices. I felt as though I was in Venice and Vancouver.
I only managed to convince Kelly that we stay in Santiago for one night. I was enamoured and intrigued by the bustling city of nearly six million. It was the first time I was in a place that people might consider non-western or developing, and I wanted to see what the city had to offer. The most vivid memory I have is of standing at the gate to the national stadium. Used by Pinochet in the mid-1970s as a site to torture dissidents, the stadium is unassuming. There is no plaque, no statue. No commemoration and, sadly, no mention of its terrifying past. I stared at the field, locked behind red bars, and I thought about the tens of thousands who disappeared, many of whom had been held here. It was shocking to me to see the degree to which the suffering was erased, disavowed. In the aeroport two weeks later I watched Universidad de Chile play there while the crowds cheered in delight some four decades after the arena was host to crimes against humanity.
The next day we trekked by bus to Valparaìso and Viña del Mar, two beautiful cities along the Pacific coast. They hug the shoreline, bounded to the sea by the sprawling mountains. Valparaìso is an industrial port city, and it has all the grime despite being adorned in the most beautiful reds and oranges and yellows, all set against the green and blue its surroundings. It is a city rich in character and culture - a site for immigration and the entry point to Chile for most of its existence. Only twenty kilometres away is Viña del Mar, which is a flourishing resort community full of flashy cars and European tourists. The feel is completely different than that of its neighbour, though it's something to appreciate for its uniqueness. It's commercial, unlike anything else I saw in Chile, including the capital. Wealth is displayed virtually everywhere, in the architecture, in the public gardens, in the people. It was truly fascinating to see these two cities, stuck side-by-side.
For the rest of the trip Kelly and I were in the southern reaches of Chile, in Patagonia. We visited Punta Arenas before taking the bus north to Puerto Natales. After spending some time in the small community, we headed to Torres del Paine, one of South America's most famous natural wonders. The park is a massive sanctuary, but it's full of hikers from the global north, myself included. I felt a sense of freedom being away from civilisation, though I never escaped thinking about the degree to which tourism was damaging this fragile natural environment. Nevertheless, the trekking and camping was unforgettable. I saw my first iceberg, marvelled at the wildlife, and was surrounded by towering mountains and pristine glacial lakes.
Sadly, visiting those six locales took up my two weeks, and I headed back home to Canada. Chile was a place I'll always remember fondly, and I already look forward to going back there sometime. The flight home was bittersweet as I longed to remain in my new habitat, but I found myself ready to come back to my real life. In the dying hours of my trip, I made a commitment to myself to write a short series of blogs about my experience. I hope you enjoyed this one, and stay tuned my next post which will examine the socio-economic condition of Chile.
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