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As the refugee crisis continues, with thousands of people fleeing crisis in the Middle East. Canada has been proactive in taking steps to accept Syrian refugees despite citizens’ concerns over security after the horrific Paris attacks orchestrated by ISIS. While it is in Canadian spirit to be accepting and receive these refugees with open arms, there is also the appropriate way of doing so. Trudeau has faced criticism regarding his original plan to bring in 25,000 Syrians by the end of this year, with 51 percent of Canadians disapproving of his plan to settle Syrians across Canada. Since the backlash, Trudeau has backtracked but not necessarily in the most diligent manner. The new refugee settlement plan consists of accepting 25,000 Syrians by the end of February 2016, but the most controversial and illogical aspect of the new plan is the rejection of unaccompanied or single straight adult men.
In an interview with CBC, Trudeau claims that Canada will not be accepting single adult men right away because he claims that the most vulnerable should be given priority. While he says this decision is not final, his statement raises the question of whether vulnerability is really the reason for this decision? If it is, then are these young, single men not more vulnerable to recruitment by ISIS? If one of Canada’s goals is to put an end to ISIS’ terror, then openly discriminating against single Syrian men is not the best way of showing support. In fact, this decision could have serious implications in terms of who ISIS chooses to target during their enrolment process, because the men who feel excluded by a country that claims to be all-embracing may be more inclined to find a home with the terror group. This is not as far-fetched an idea as it may seem, considering the propaganda ISIS uses to draw men and women in. They are made to feel wanted and accepted. This new adjustment to Trudeau’s plan is short-sighted and illogical because it can be argued that single men are just as vulnerable as single women. Perhaps their vulnerabilities manifest differently, but they exist nonetheless.
Another explanation could be that Trudeau’s exclusion of single men is for security reasons. There is a great concern among many Canadians that a mass movement of Syrian refugees into the country could allow terrorists to slip under the radar. Yet, while it may be more common to see male ISIS members in online propaganda videos and on the ground initiating attacks, it is wrong to assume that single men are the most high-risk. Even though the Canadian government has not directly said that this is the reason for excluding single Syrian males, it surely sends a questionable message. Not only is it wrong to discriminate against single men, while men who have families are welcome, it is naïve to think that these men are the only ones capable of working for ISIS undercover and spreading terror in Canada. In fact, one of the suicide bombers in the Paris attacks was 26-year-old female Hasna Aitboulahcen, who also opened fire on police when they approached her flat, with a Kalashnikov assault rifle.
Experts have said that the risk of a terrorist getting into Canada during refugee settlement is slim, but even if it is a concern it should not manifest itself as discrimination against one gender over the other. The reality is that yes, there are risks associated with accepting a large number of refugees in a short period of time. However, a better way of responding to Canadians’ criticisms is to extend the timeline of Syrian integration into Canada. They can still be protected abroad during the process, but there is value in ensuring the settlement of refugees is done in a safe, controlled manner without leaving one group in the dust with no firm promise of acceptance in the near future.
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By: Saad Ejaz
Despite cold temperatures, McMaster students stood in solidarity with the victims of recent tragic events around the world, including the Beirut bombings and Paris shootings.
On Nov. 8, the Political Action Committee of Overcome the Gap, an MSU club, held an open dialogue to commemorate the lives lost around the world.
Dozens of students gathered outside at Mills plaza at 7 p.m. The event had a number of speeches, musicals and spoken word poetry that honored the victims of the tragic events that took place. Several students delivered an impromptu speech and also signed a banner to honour the lives lost.
Taaha Muhammad, President of Overcome the Gap, mentions that the focus of the event was to show equal solidarity to victims of the attacks in Baghdad, Beirut and France, and two earthquakes in Japan and Mexico.
“The goal was to raise awareness about all the issues going on in the world. It wasn’t to emphasize the ‘greater importance’ of any one tragedy, but rather to enlighten us of being more cognizant, understanding, and holistically knowledgeable and sympathetic individuals. We realized the Paris shootings resonated in the hearts of many as it was spread all over the web and social media, and we used this as an opportunity to get people together to discuss a common issue and how to move forward from there,” said Muhammad.
The aim of the event was to unite students to understand that there are more things we all have in common than it often seems.
Many McMaster and Hamilton organizations attended the event, including the Muslim Student’s Association, Assyrian Chaldean Syriac Student's Union, Grace Mandarin Alliance Church, LIFT Church and the Downtown Hamilton Mosque.
Umair Majid, cofounder of Overcome the Gap, emphasized unity and a progressive society. He stated, “Our objectives as an organization have been consistent with collective action …We wanted to use recent events as an opportunity to bring together individuals from different backgrounds, cultures and religions. Therefore, we held a shared and open dialogue called ‘#PrayforParis: #PrayforHumanity: Where Do We Go From Here?’”
The event was a great success, according to Muhammad. “There was a sound number of people there and all who came walked away enlightened by the perspectives shared,” he said. “I think having an outlet like this event for us to share our joint sincerities and condolences for those affected by the tragedies around the world really served as a catalyst for positive change. It brought people together, despite their differences, and students walked away having internalized a multitude of perspectives centred around one common theme: humanity.”
Photo Credit: Rehan Pervaiz
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By: Alex Zavarise
The principal goal of terrorism is to spread fear through violence, attempting to induce irrational decisions in scared individuals or groups. The attackers (especially those with political aims) will often identify certain demands, anticipating that the individuals involved will make a reckless decision and comply in order to regain a sense of control. Terrorists put individuals in high-stress situations, hoping to benefit from their distress.
It is gross. It is sick. It happens every day.
In 2014 there were roughly 13,500 terrorist attacks in the world. That’s around 37 attacks per day. On Nov. 13, 2015, there were three terrorist attacks in Baghdad, Beirut and France, and two earthquakes in Japan and Mexico, but the Internet only seemed to care about France. Similar to the Charlie Hebdo attack in Paris this January, social media exploded with tweets and statuses showing support for the victims and their families. The hashtag “Pray for Paris” trended worldwide the night of the attacks, garnering over 2.5 million tweets. Support online for the other tragedies did not receive the same amount of attention, with Beirut only receiving about 90 thousand tweets that night, followed by Baghdad with 82 thousand.
Why do certain countries receive an outpouring of support during tragedies, while other countries are largely disregarded? Iraq, for example, fell victim to roughly 3,400 terrorist attacks in 2014 alone, whereas the U.S. experienced fewer than 30. You can imagine which received greater coverage.
This Friday major media outlets, such as BBC, CNN, CBC, and even the Vatican reported almost exclusively on Paris. News outlets are supposed to report on the news. All of it. The front pages of the world’s newspapers mourned for Paris — news of Baghdad, Beirut, Japan and Mexico could be found amongst the game highlights, classifieds, and crosswords. Even urban landmarks were altered to show their support. The CN Tower, World Trade Centre, and Wembley Stadium are among the many buildings that changed their lighting to red, white and blue — the colours of the French flag. The purpose? To show solidarity and support for France. Nothing for Baghdad, Beirut, Japan or Mexico. And what of our world leaders? British PM David Cameron, Canadian PM Justin Trudeau and former PM Stephen Harper, German Chancellor Angela Merkel, and U.S. President Barack Obama are among the many leaders to release statements of support for France. Donald Trump also weighed in, but his comments were — in classic Trump fashion —insensitive and self-serving. None took the time to speak about Baghdad, Beirut, Japan or Mexico.
So why does France get such a show of solidarity? Why are the other tragedies of the day not newsworthy? Why are news outlets allowed to pick and choose what story gets the most airtime? Is it important to report on Paris? Yes. Were the events in Paris a tragedy? Absolutely. But the tragedy in Paris on Nov. 13 was not the only major tragedy that occurred that day, even though the world seemed to think so. It is important to report on all tragedies, and show support for all victims.
Photo Credit: Associated Press
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By: Kaitlyn Jong
By now, I’m sure many of you have heard about Elizabeth Gallagher and can completely understand why every single person would want to change their name to her name. Basically, her ex-boyfriend has turned to Reddit to search for someone with the exact same name to tag along on his Christmas trip around the world.
Jordan Axani and his ex-girlfriend purchased around-the-world tickets to six different countries, but came to an issue when the relationship dissolved, and found it way too expensive to change the name on all of the flight tickets. He is now on the search to find another Elizabeth Gallagher with a Canadian passport to make use of these tickets, free of charge. Since my name is nowhere close to Elizabeth Gallagher, I spend my days dreaming of a life where my parents made the right choice in giving me a proper name.
The first place I would visit in this beautiful Italian city would not be the gorgeous buildings, or shopping at the designer shops. No, the first place I would go would be a gelato shop for the biggest scoop of authentic lemon gelato I could imagine (sorry Mom, the pictures can wait). Being my first time in Italy, I want to take advantage of what I value the most, and that is Italian food. After gaining about 25 pounds eating pasta and risotto, the next stop is shopping. Of course I dream about shopping at brands such as Prada, Versace and Valentino that are headquartered in the city but realistically, that would leave me broke and fat.
A couple days in Czech Republic’s capital city would be spent sightseeing and taking photos of the beautiful gothic churches and castles in this city.
It has always been one of the main destinations I’d love to visit before I die, and as Elizabeth Gallagher, I would finally be able to. You can’t visit Paris without taking an Instagram picture of the Eiffel Tower at night covered in lights, which would be my first stop in the beautiful city. The Louvre would be another major stop in Paris, just so I can really see how tiny the Mona Lisa is in real life. I would end my travels in Paris with a Parisian croissant on the plane to my next destination.
Thailand is another country renowned for their cuisine. I’m not trying to recreate Eat Pray Love, but my first stop in Bangkok would be the markets to try the delicious authentic Thai street food. Of course, no trip to Bangkok would be complete without seeing their beautiful temples and riding an elephant, a sacred animal in Thailand.
A trip around the world would be a dream, and I’ve already planned it. I wish the best of luck to Jordan Axani on finding another Elizabeth Gallagher to travel with, but I so desperately wish I were her.
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After spending about five weeks in Europe this past summer, I compiled an impressive collection of secondhand books. There was the entire Harry Potter series in French, the Kurt Vonnegut novel with a love note scrawled on the inside cover, a look-book of Yves St. Laurent’s designs, a funny little picture book about two very ugly monsters falling in love in Paris, a vintage Spiderman comic – and the list goes on. My luggage was already slightly overweight when I flew into Lyon, and the situation became much, much worse on my flight home.
I went back and forth between weighing my suitcase and rearranging my things for about three hours in the middle of the airport. I threw out towels, clothing, shoes – but I refused to part with my beloved books. The result was that I wore several layers of clothing (dresses, socks, men’s jackets) with books stuffed in the waistbands of my many pants. I was asked more than once if I was traveling up North (which really doesn’t even make sense…why would I have already started layering up?)
When I recounted this story back home, everybody asked me, why on earth did you buy so many books? All these books could have been purchased here or found online, why was it necessary to fly them over from another continent?
I was indignant. Where would I find the entire Harry Potter series in French that could document my journey in St. Etienne so beautifully? There was a little second-hand book and record store just outside of the university that I was studying at and I stumbled into it on my lunch break one day and discovered the third Harry Potter. It became like a mini-adventure, each day hoping that I would find another book in the series.
Where would I find a Kurt Vonnegut with a “Chere Marie, tu me manques!” written in barely legible handwriting on the inside? When else would I visit “Shakespeare & Co.” – the place that famous writers from all over the world would sleep and write and live – and find the St. Laurent look-book? When else would I stroll along the River Seine, looking at all the vintage booths and learning the owners’ strange and lovely stories?
There were classic record shores at every turn, hundred-year-old books being sold at every street corner, and colourful, interesting thrift stores for people of all styles. I felt nostalgic about these items, being drawn into my own Midnight in Paris, reminiscing a past that I found far more poetic. I felt nostalgic about my own two-decade-long past, reflecting on the decisions I had made and feeling reassured that I had made the right ones because here I was, walking down the streets of Paris with my best friends. And I felt an overwhelming nostalgia hovering above me, fully aware that in a few short weeks it would envelope me whole once I returned home. It was a nostalgia for this trip where I had found new dreams, new identities, new friends, and new love.
And so, we present to you ANDY’S “nostalgia” issue – as we look back on all those things that have brought us to where we are now.
The Night Circus – Erin Morgenstern
This is the book to turn to when you are suddenly no longer impressed by your own reality; when everything seems grey and bleak. When I picked up this book, I found a story of love and magic, the most wonderful imagery and an overwhelming reminder of the poignancy of opposites, of black and white.
Favourite Quote: “It is like realizing someone in a photograph is no longer the same age as they were when it was taken, and they seem farther away because of it.”
The Perks of Being a Wallflower – Stephan Chobsky
This story is for anyone who has ever had an existential crisis; for someone who loves music on an almost transcendental level; for someone who finds it impossible to name just one favourite novel; or for you, if you get it when Charlie says he feels infinite.
Favourite Quote: “The outside lights were on, and it was snowing, and it looked like magic. Like we were somewhere else. Like we were someplace better.”
The Alchemist – Paulo Coelho
When you forget that you already have everything you need, read this book. When you are reminded that there is more to what meets the eye, when you’re stuck at the bottom of your personal wheel of fortune – read this book. When you have a moment, and all the other books on your list are too long or too daunting, read this book.
Favourite Quote: “You must always know what it is that you want.”
Complete Journals of L. M. Montgomery (The PEI Years, 1889-1900):
As I read through her journals, Lucy Maud Montgomery’s writing style reminds me of myself, aged 8, 10, 14, 17: (re)reading Anne’s adventures, and graduating, finding my own Patty’s Place, falling in love. There is almost a feeling of ‘inception’ because suddenly I find myself reading and maturing along with Montgomery – someone who would grow up only to affect my childhood.
Favourite Quote: “What care I if it be ‘wild and improbable’ and ‘lacking in literary art’? I refuse to be any longer hampered by such canons of criticism. The one essential thing I demand of a book is that it should interest me. If it does, I forgive it any and every other fault.”
Time Was Soft There: A Paris Sojourn at Shakespeare & Co – Jeremy Mercer
This summer (which was possibly the best one of my life), je suis tombée en amour avec Paris. Extremely cliché I know, yet with my friends, I did much better than just fall in love. We found, like many before us, the famous Shakespeare & Co. bookstore, the star of this story. While reading this memoir I could hear, amidst all of the colourful characters, the trilling of an old piano, low laughter, the clacking of an old typewriter, an occasional snore – and the sounds of pages turning.
Favourite Quote: “In a place like Paris, the air is so thick with dreams they clog the streets and take all the good tables at the cafés. Poets and writers, models and designers, painters and sculptors, actors and directors, lovers and escapists, they flock to the City of Lights.“
Jonathon Fairclough
Production Manager
It’s day two in Paris and my travel companions and I are already getting comfortable; we’ve been parading around town, drinking wine, making noise and capitalizing on every cheap thrill that confronts us. It’s been a wine-fuelled parade, and the beautiful neighbourhood of Montmartre, Paris’ former artistic district, is our next showcase.
We sit on the stairs in front of the Sacre Couer church and look across the city in wonder. At this point, brothers Daniel and Dave, Medina, our adopted American counterpart and I are sharing stories as we walk, occasionally met by tourists who’ve been looking at their feet for too long in their ascent up the stairs and have realized that we’re blocking their route. “Sorry!” we said. We weren’t. It was funny.
We drink a bottle of wine each, passing around the baguettes, and we finally decide to grab dinner. We find a nice little restaurant, where have more wine and have some terrific French beef. The West-Virginia girl we’re with slaps down cash on the table and covers the bill – over a hundred Euros – but we’re way too gone at this point to really show our appreciation. “I make good money back home, you guys are taking me out, consider us even.” We were stunned.
We metro back to the apartment to gather our stuff for the big night. Medina knows of a small bar we can go to in an elbow of the city and we’re all for it, mainly because we aren’t aware of how dodgy this place really is. Fifteen-plus metro stops later and we’re in a rundown mess of a neighbourhood. Nobody knows where we are.
We buy two bottles of whisky and drink one on the street corner. A guy comes up to us and begins conversing with those in the party who speak French, occasionally taking swigs of the red label. He tries to sell us drugs, and we kindly decline. Poor fella.
We head to a hole of a bar where the group splits up – some of us smoking outside and some swaying and drinking on the inside. I finally sneak in a kiss with the American. Success. The bar is full of French students, all of whom are aware that there are some loud and obnoxious American-sounding buffoons in their presence. We feel odd and estranged. The bar closes, and we think that’s it.
Oh no, that wasn’t it. Far from it.
The bar next door – scratch that – the pit next door says it’s open. Once some people from the outside fill the place in, they shut the doors and, unbeknownst to us, lock us up – metal girders on the windows and everything.
Yes, it’s a bar, but hardly. I suppose there are certain French laws which prohibit such establishments from existing in the wee-hours of the morning. They serve shitty beer and the staff are all North African and extremely stern-looking. We keep drinking with no intent of stopping. We’re far gone at this point.
One of the guys in our party steals a woman’s crutch and begins hobbling around the bar with it. This isn’t taken very lightly, but hey, it was just one of those nights. At this point, Dan has a woman yapping and slobbering into his ear, stealing his cigarettes. He’s forced to sit through the degradation, in fear of upsetting the others.
In retrospect, we were waiting for something to happen, something to go wrong, but we were either too drunk or to confused to care. It was only until I wanted to go outside for some air, since the place was locked up and full of smoke, that I actually realize we’re locked in.
At this point I get it in my head that this is a setup. When I ask how I get outside, the people at the bar don’t have an answer for me. I begin to panic. I look across the bar to see my friends completely oblivious to the knowledge I’ve come upon.
I talk to the staff, I ask how we can leave, and finally one person says they’ll escort us through a back alleyway. I share our situation to the group, which falls upon deaf ears, but after a little persuasion we decide to leave.
We’re escorted through a back alleyway in which I was certain we were going to be robbed and we made a quick exit. Three of our party are missing, all girls (including the American girl), but they quickly re-appear. We wander the streets for a cab, breaking bottles and making noise on the way.
We cab back to the hostel, slam on the door at 4:30am and wake up all those sleeping soundly inside. We make an incredible amount of noise – comparable to that of the bar from 30 minutes earlier – and really mess up the joint, banging shit around, waking up new hostel guests. Complete terror. And so there we were, left way-gone on a beautiful Parisian Tuesday night. And it didn’t matter what city we were in, or the way we got there. What mattered was the company.
No, it wasn’t pretty. It wasn’t elegant or civilized, the way it ought to be in a place like Paris. But I will say this: it was something.
You don’t need to see the sights to feel enthralled. You don’t need to stare at a painting to find meaning. Sometimes, if the time is right, all you need is a few friends, a few strangers, a few baguettes and a crutch.
Oh, and a shitload of wine.
