Once upon a time, Canada was one of the top five donors in reducing poverty internationally.
30 years ago, we contributed 0.57% of our Gross National Income (GNI) to Overseas Development Assistance. Under the Liberal Government of Paul Martin, it plummeted to 0.26%. Canada is no longer amongst the top 5 leaders in the fight against poverty.
In fact, we barely make the top 15.
In 1968, Lester B. Pearson was chairman on a board dedicated to International Development (ID). His recommendation was that wealthy countries should dedicate 0.7% of their GNI to ID. The World Bank and The United Nations both supported his recommendation. Canada should be striving to reach this goal.
Today, Canada only contributes 0.3% of its total GNI, not even half of what Pearson called for.
In 2008 poverty is as big an issue as ever. Three billion people live on less than $2 a day, and an estimated 800 million people go to sleep hungry every night. To many Canadians, it may come as a surprise that our role in fighting poverty is actually declining rather than increasing. But poverty is something that is not just a global issue, but a Canadian issue as well.
In Ontario, 1.3 million people live in poverty. For one of the world’s wealthiest countries, this is an astounding number. A year ago, during provincial elections, Ontario Liberal MPP Dalton McGuinty promised to include a poverty reduction strategy as one of his main priorities. He said it would be in place by the end of the year. This goal has yet to be met.
Some, including Dalton McGuinty, would say that a movement to fight poverty would not be financially viable currently due to the economic instability in the world markets. In a recent press conference, Premier McGuinty commented on the slow progress of his poverty reduction plan.
“Given the state of the economy, it may very well mean that we won’t be able to move as quickly as we would have liked,” McGuinty said.
But is this not the same premier that said “I believe it’s one of the best tests of government…How are we treating those who are less fortunate?”
Recently, a coalition named Make Poverty History produced a video called “On the Record”. The video aimed to raise awareness of poverty in Canada in urban, rural, and aboriginal communities. Four out of five leaders from major Canadian parties were featured in the video outlining specific anti-poverty legislation – both global and domestic.
The only leader not to appear in the video was Stephen Harper – showing not only his lack of leadership, but also his complete lack of initiative to tackle poverty.
“So far we haven't heard anything from Stephen Harper,” said Dennis Howlett, co-ordinator of Make Poverty History. “The whole point was to get specific commitments from party leaders.”
It is evident that under the Liberal and Conservative governments, Canada’s role in fighting poverty is not only inadequate, but actually diminishing. The NDP government under Jack Layton is the only party urging the country to reach the Point Seven target. We as Canadians should support the NDP in order to change the insufficient role Canada plays in fighting poverty.
Tuesday, September 23, 2008
Wednesday, September 17, 2008
Drugs
It's unlikely Andrew Gelfand would have guessed pricking his finger on a cactus in a drug induced haze would change his life.
“I was sitting on a couch and I was really high, and I was trying to grab a glass of water and instead kept grabbing a cactus,” Gelfand said.
According to Gelfand, it was then that he realized his life needed a major overhaul.
“It hit me then, if I didn’t do something about this I'd probably be sitting in the same place when I was 50,” Gelfand said.
“I couldn’t deal with that… I wasn’t ready to just sit on a couch and do drugs my whole life.”
Gelfand said he initially started doing drugs when he was 12 because it provided an escape from his problems.
By the time he was 16, he was addicted.
“Everyone has hard times when they’re a teenager, and everyone has their own methods of escaping,” Gelfand said. “That was just the one that I found.”
Gelfand said that one of the things he was trying to escape was what he saw as social isolation.
“I came from a very upper middle class white neighborhood which was not big on the whole diversity thing,” Gelfand said. “And me not being exactly like everybody else, I wasn’t really socially accepted.”
Gelfand attributes learning from the lives of others as the reason for him deciding to turn his life around.
“What helped was that I saw where it was leading the lives of a lot of people I knew,” Gelfand said. “They were in there 30's and 40's and were still doing drugs like they were in high school.”
“It took me a long time, but I realized that wasn’t what I wanted for myself.”
“I was sitting on a couch and I was really high, and I was trying to grab a glass of water and instead kept grabbing a cactus,” Gelfand said.
According to Gelfand, it was then that he realized his life needed a major overhaul.
“It hit me then, if I didn’t do something about this I'd probably be sitting in the same place when I was 50,” Gelfand said.
“I couldn’t deal with that… I wasn’t ready to just sit on a couch and do drugs my whole life.”
Gelfand said he initially started doing drugs when he was 12 because it provided an escape from his problems.
By the time he was 16, he was addicted.
“Everyone has hard times when they’re a teenager, and everyone has their own methods of escaping,” Gelfand said. “That was just the one that I found.”
Gelfand said that one of the things he was trying to escape was what he saw as social isolation.
“I came from a very upper middle class white neighborhood which was not big on the whole diversity thing,” Gelfand said. “And me not being exactly like everybody else, I wasn’t really socially accepted.”
Gelfand attributes learning from the lives of others as the reason for him deciding to turn his life around.
“What helped was that I saw where it was leading the lives of a lot of people I knew,” Gelfand said. “They were in there 30's and 40's and were still doing drugs like they were in high school.”
“It took me a long time, but I realized that wasn’t what I wanted for myself.”
Club Nights
When Mariya Stepina shivered on an icy curb in Toronto’s downtown core at 1:30 A.M., she knew it was going to be another rough night.
She wasn’t dressed for the weather.
“I felt so low after eight months of commitment, sitting there in my skirt and tank top, in the cold freezing,” Stepina said. “I was shocked at the level of disrespect I had experienced.”
Mariya Stepina is one of many who works in an industry that often offers such obstacles.
Despite this, she is determined to stick to a cause that she feels is right for her. Stepina is no activist. She’s not a crusader. She serves drinks.
“You’d be surprised how much of a toll being a waitress can have on you, physically, and emotionally,” Stepina said. “It’s not an easy job.”
Stepina, a Seneca college student, works at Jean Machine weekdays and serves drinks on weekends to help pay for tuition and cover living expenses.
She says although the money is good, the position is unstable and she is often subject to offensive treatment.
“I got fired on the spot from Guvernment for not showing up one Saturday due to family obligations,” Stepina said. “I was given no chance to explain myself and my supervisor got me escorted off the property and told the doorman specifically ‘Do not let this girl back in.’”
Stepina said after paying 40$ to get back into her workplace, she went to talk to the owners of The Guvernment, Charles Khabouth and Oscar Amar.
After a lengthy talk, her money was reimbursed and they apologized for her supervisor’s behavior. They said they wanted her to work there and would call her within a week to get her a new position.
They haven’t called back.
“The shooter girls are treated as disposable at the Guv,” Stepina said. “Girls get hired and fired very often. All the waitresses have second jobs because they know this one isn’t reliable.”
It is evident that Stepina is not the only one employed in the club industry that faces a hard time at work.
Rob Steckler, a promoter for B & A Promotions, and a former bouncer for six years, says he switched from being a bouncer to a promoter because of the stress factor.
“When I managed as the head door man it was always a headache” Steckler said. “There’s a lot more money in promotion and a lot less headache.”
Steckler said he feels the ever present risk of injury isn’t worth the position as a bouncer.
“The crowd these days have no respect for anything,” Steckler said. “There’s fights, people throw bottles. You have shootings these days, stabbings.”
While he says the danger factor is not there in promotions, the job still has its difficulties.
“It can be stressful too, wanting to fill up the club and make it a busy night,” Steckler said. “There’s a lot of pressure on you to hit your numbers.”
Chris Kerr, who DJs under the name Ill Whisky, has also turned to hosting and promoting events to establish his name in the Toronto club scene.
Kerr feels the job is often underappreciated, and promoters are like the underdogs of the club industry.
“I doubt club goers think about how brutal it can be, spending your Saturday nights outside of a club at 2 or 3 A.M, handing out flyers to drunks who for the most part just toss them aside,” Kerr said.
Despite this, Kerr said he is dedicated to his job because he is passionate about the music and loves to share it with others.
“Rarely, you’ll get someone who says ‘Hey, I really enjoyed your last performance. I’m looking forward to your next one,” Kerr said. “That makes it all worthwhile.”
Although Stepina expressed some discontent with the club industry, she continues to work as a waitress.
She says she enjoys serving drinks, but is discouraged by the way waitresses are treated by patrons and administration alike.
“Sometimes I look forward to work because the club is glamorous and all and I get to meet a lot of cool people,” Stepina said. “But part of the job is just dealing with guys who have no respect for women. It’s as if serving drinks makes you less of a human or something.”
Stepina said that the part of the job she likes least is the disrespect she encounters towards women.
“I’ve had to deal with harassment, people calling me names,” Stepina said. “I’ve had to deal with drunks and people on drugs hitting on me or touching me inappropriately.”
Stepina told about how once a patron took a picture under her skirt without her knowing.
Security confiscated his phone and escorted him out of the club, and found he had taken many similar pictures of other girls that night.
“I took a lot of emotional baggage home with me that night” Stepina said. “It was degrading, I felt low after being treated like that. And it shouldn’t be that way.”
--end--
She wasn’t dressed for the weather.
“I felt so low after eight months of commitment, sitting there in my skirt and tank top, in the cold freezing,” Stepina said. “I was shocked at the level of disrespect I had experienced.”
Mariya Stepina is one of many who works in an industry that often offers such obstacles.
Despite this, she is determined to stick to a cause that she feels is right for her. Stepina is no activist. She’s not a crusader. She serves drinks.
“You’d be surprised how much of a toll being a waitress can have on you, physically, and emotionally,” Stepina said. “It’s not an easy job.”
Stepina, a Seneca college student, works at Jean Machine weekdays and serves drinks on weekends to help pay for tuition and cover living expenses.
She says although the money is good, the position is unstable and she is often subject to offensive treatment.
“I got fired on the spot from Guvernment for not showing up one Saturday due to family obligations,” Stepina said. “I was given no chance to explain myself and my supervisor got me escorted off the property and told the doorman specifically ‘Do not let this girl back in.’”
Stepina said after paying 40$ to get back into her workplace, she went to talk to the owners of The Guvernment, Charles Khabouth and Oscar Amar.
After a lengthy talk, her money was reimbursed and they apologized for her supervisor’s behavior. They said they wanted her to work there and would call her within a week to get her a new position.
They haven’t called back.
“The shooter girls are treated as disposable at the Guv,” Stepina said. “Girls get hired and fired very often. All the waitresses have second jobs because they know this one isn’t reliable.”
It is evident that Stepina is not the only one employed in the club industry that faces a hard time at work.
Rob Steckler, a promoter for B & A Promotions, and a former bouncer for six years, says he switched from being a bouncer to a promoter because of the stress factor.
“When I managed as the head door man it was always a headache” Steckler said. “There’s a lot more money in promotion and a lot less headache.”
Steckler said he feels the ever present risk of injury isn’t worth the position as a bouncer.
“The crowd these days have no respect for anything,” Steckler said. “There’s fights, people throw bottles. You have shootings these days, stabbings.”
While he says the danger factor is not there in promotions, the job still has its difficulties.
“It can be stressful too, wanting to fill up the club and make it a busy night,” Steckler said. “There’s a lot of pressure on you to hit your numbers.”
Chris Kerr, who DJs under the name Ill Whisky, has also turned to hosting and promoting events to establish his name in the Toronto club scene.
Kerr feels the job is often underappreciated, and promoters are like the underdogs of the club industry.
“I doubt club goers think about how brutal it can be, spending your Saturday nights outside of a club at 2 or 3 A.M, handing out flyers to drunks who for the most part just toss them aside,” Kerr said.
Despite this, Kerr said he is dedicated to his job because he is passionate about the music and loves to share it with others.
“Rarely, you’ll get someone who says ‘Hey, I really enjoyed your last performance. I’m looking forward to your next one,” Kerr said. “That makes it all worthwhile.”
Although Stepina expressed some discontent with the club industry, she continues to work as a waitress.
She says she enjoys serving drinks, but is discouraged by the way waitresses are treated by patrons and administration alike.
“Sometimes I look forward to work because the club is glamorous and all and I get to meet a lot of cool people,” Stepina said. “But part of the job is just dealing with guys who have no respect for women. It’s as if serving drinks makes you less of a human or something.”
Stepina said that the part of the job she likes least is the disrespect she encounters towards women.
“I’ve had to deal with harassment, people calling me names,” Stepina said. “I’ve had to deal with drunks and people on drugs hitting on me or touching me inappropriately.”
Stepina told about how once a patron took a picture under her skirt without her knowing.
Security confiscated his phone and escorted him out of the club, and found he had taken many similar pictures of other girls that night.
“I took a lot of emotional baggage home with me that night” Stepina said. “It was degrading, I felt low after being treated like that. And it shouldn’t be that way.”
--end--
LHC
Physicists hope to make one of the biggest breakthroughs in science since the invention of the word “Eureka.”
The project based in Geneva, Switzerland, is headed by The European Organization for Nuclear Research (CERN).
It consists of an international collaboration of scientists, universities, and institutions that aim to emulate the big bang.
Raymond L. Orbach, undersecretary for science of the U.S. Department of Energy, has stated that the creation marks a major milestone for science.
“As the largest and most powerful particle accelerator on Earth, the LHC represents a monumental technical achievement,” Orbach said.
“We now eagerly await the results that will emerge from operation of this extraordinary machine.”
The machine, which has been 15 years in the making, is known as the Large Hadron Collider or LHC for short. An estimated 10,000 people from 60 countries have contributed to the design and building of the LHC.
The most recent progress in the project was the successful testing of the LHC, in which a proton beam circulated in the 27 km underground tunnel where the LHC is housed.
Arden L. Bement Jr., director of the National Science Foundation, said that eagerness for the results in the scientific community runs high.
“With the operation of the LHC, anticipation of transformative scientific discoveries soars to new heights,” Bement said.
The goal of the project is to successfully collide high energy proton beams at nearly the speed of light.
With the collision of these strings of protons, it could create conditions akin to the big bang, and shed light on an elusive particle known as the Higgs boson.
By studying the results of this collision, scientists such as CERN director General Robert Aymar say secrets about dark matter, black holes, and other dimensions may finally be answered.
“The LHC is a discovery machine,” Aymar said. “Its research programme has the potential to change our view of the universe profoundly.”
The project based in Geneva, Switzerland, is headed by The European Organization for Nuclear Research (CERN).
It consists of an international collaboration of scientists, universities, and institutions that aim to emulate the big bang.
Raymond L. Orbach, undersecretary for science of the U.S. Department of Energy, has stated that the creation marks a major milestone for science.
“As the largest and most powerful particle accelerator on Earth, the LHC represents a monumental technical achievement,” Orbach said.
“We now eagerly await the results that will emerge from operation of this extraordinary machine.”
The machine, which has been 15 years in the making, is known as the Large Hadron Collider or LHC for short. An estimated 10,000 people from 60 countries have contributed to the design and building of the LHC.
The most recent progress in the project was the successful testing of the LHC, in which a proton beam circulated in the 27 km underground tunnel where the LHC is housed.
Arden L. Bement Jr., director of the National Science Foundation, said that eagerness for the results in the scientific community runs high.
“With the operation of the LHC, anticipation of transformative scientific discoveries soars to new heights,” Bement said.
The goal of the project is to successfully collide high energy proton beams at nearly the speed of light.
With the collision of these strings of protons, it could create conditions akin to the big bang, and shed light on an elusive particle known as the Higgs boson.
By studying the results of this collision, scientists such as CERN director General Robert Aymar say secrets about dark matter, black holes, and other dimensions may finally be answered.
“The LHC is a discovery machine,” Aymar said. “Its research programme has the potential to change our view of the universe profoundly.”
Graffiti Art
A city-wide effort to eliminate graffiti is facing opposition from artists who feel it constricts a legitimate form of art.
Andrew Lane, an aspiring artist attending OCAD, the Ontario College of Art & Design, says the program is not in the best interest of the community.
“I don’t think David Miller really cares about the culture or significance of Graffiti,” Lane said. “He cares about economic and urban expansion.”
The city of Toronto launched the Graffiti Eradication program in 2000 to eliminate graffiti in the city and in suburban areas. In 2005, the crackdown on graffiti intensified when a by-law prohibiting all graffiti was passed.
The by-law, number 123 under the Toronto Municipal Code, made it so that no graffiti was permitted in the city, whether on public or private property. But to artists such as Lane, what the city sees as urban blight, is really urban art.
“The graffiti scene in Toronto has a vibrant history,” Lane said. “It has been very influential globally, in places like N.Y.C and Berlin.”
Lane says part of the reason graffiti is misunderstood is due to the way the city handles it.
In Toronto, graffiti is removed within 72 hours, or 24 hours if it contains discriminatory remarks or anything gang related.
According to Lane, this results in sloppy, mindless graffiti known as “tags” with no real artistic merit.
“People here aren’t exposed to proper graffiti because there is no canvas for it,” Lane said. “All they see are shitty tags with no substance, because who is gonna dedicate themselves to a piece that will be gone in a few days?”
The city says some of its reasons for launching the project are that graffiti makes neighbourhoods less desirable, encourages more vandalism and crime, and makes it seem like rules can be broken without consequence.
However, Lane says these issues can be avoided with mutual co-operation between graffiti artists and the city.
He says if there was regulation of graffiti in designated, private properties, it would give graffiti artists a much needed outlet and a place to develop their art.
“The law says that ‘art murals’ are allowed but graffiti is not,” Lane said. “But whose place is it to define what’s art and what’s not?”
To some, this question is more easily answered than for others.
The issue came up again recently in a Sept. 10, 2008 issue of the Toronto Star when a group was divided over whether city council should be allowed to vote on a selection of public art murals for a Toronto condo project.
Councillor Howard Moscoe was one of the leading advocates of the decision for the city to stay out of the voting process.
“The minute public art becomes politicized, it becomes banal,” Moscoe said. “If you squeeze it through the political process, you get tripe.”
The Metro Place Project, with a budget of $500,000 to fund public art, is judged by a panel consisting of the developer, landscape architect and a number of artists.
Some artists, such as Lane, think powerful corporate interests motivate the campaign.
“Look around you, you can’t go anywhere in Toronto without being bombarded by advertisements,” Lane said. “Billboards, condos, real estate, that’s all this city cares about”.
To other artists, such as Susie Park, another student attending OCAD, the city’s decision to fund public art for a condo project reflects where their priorities are.
“I don’t find it surprising that they did that,” Park said. “Condos make a lot of money; it’s good for the city. Graffiti doesn’t do that.”
Some like Coun. Moscoe, feel art is not prone to consensus and that an artist needs complete freedom of expression.
Not surprisingly, many artists would agree.
“You can’t tell an artist where and when to draw or paint,” said Susie. “That sort of makes it feel like the artist is no longer creating art for themselves, but for someone else”.
Park feels that art cannot be sculpted by the orders of a politician, especially in the case of graffiti.
“The whole point of graffiti is to give life to parts of the city that are dead,” Park said. “The sketchy alley, the abandoned staircase, the places people avoid.”
Park feels graffiti is made to create beauty in places where beauty has been forsaken. She says by only allowing graffiti in certain, designated areas, it defeats the purpose.
For Andrew Lane, the city only allows certain art murals to promote gentrification, and raise property values.
He feels the city is not concerned with fostering the growth of this small art subculture.
“If you look at the art murals in Toronto, most of it is really contrived, like peace signs, or people holding hands,” Lane said. “To Miller, that is art, but the moment someone makes a political piece about poverty or police, it’s graffiti.”
--End--
Andrew Lane, an aspiring artist attending OCAD, the Ontario College of Art & Design, says the program is not in the best interest of the community.
“I don’t think David Miller really cares about the culture or significance of Graffiti,” Lane said. “He cares about economic and urban expansion.”
The city of Toronto launched the Graffiti Eradication program in 2000 to eliminate graffiti in the city and in suburban areas. In 2005, the crackdown on graffiti intensified when a by-law prohibiting all graffiti was passed.
The by-law, number 123 under the Toronto Municipal Code, made it so that no graffiti was permitted in the city, whether on public or private property. But to artists such as Lane, what the city sees as urban blight, is really urban art.
“The graffiti scene in Toronto has a vibrant history,” Lane said. “It has been very influential globally, in places like N.Y.C and Berlin.”
Lane says part of the reason graffiti is misunderstood is due to the way the city handles it.
In Toronto, graffiti is removed within 72 hours, or 24 hours if it contains discriminatory remarks or anything gang related.
According to Lane, this results in sloppy, mindless graffiti known as “tags” with no real artistic merit.
“People here aren’t exposed to proper graffiti because there is no canvas for it,” Lane said. “All they see are shitty tags with no substance, because who is gonna dedicate themselves to a piece that will be gone in a few days?”
The city says some of its reasons for launching the project are that graffiti makes neighbourhoods less desirable, encourages more vandalism and crime, and makes it seem like rules can be broken without consequence.
However, Lane says these issues can be avoided with mutual co-operation between graffiti artists and the city.
He says if there was regulation of graffiti in designated, private properties, it would give graffiti artists a much needed outlet and a place to develop their art.
“The law says that ‘art murals’ are allowed but graffiti is not,” Lane said. “But whose place is it to define what’s art and what’s not?”
To some, this question is more easily answered than for others.
The issue came up again recently in a Sept. 10, 2008 issue of the Toronto Star when a group was divided over whether city council should be allowed to vote on a selection of public art murals for a Toronto condo project.
Councillor Howard Moscoe was one of the leading advocates of the decision for the city to stay out of the voting process.
“The minute public art becomes politicized, it becomes banal,” Moscoe said. “If you squeeze it through the political process, you get tripe.”
The Metro Place Project, with a budget of $500,000 to fund public art, is judged by a panel consisting of the developer, landscape architect and a number of artists.
Some artists, such as Lane, think powerful corporate interests motivate the campaign.
“Look around you, you can’t go anywhere in Toronto without being bombarded by advertisements,” Lane said. “Billboards, condos, real estate, that’s all this city cares about”.
To other artists, such as Susie Park, another student attending OCAD, the city’s decision to fund public art for a condo project reflects where their priorities are.
“I don’t find it surprising that they did that,” Park said. “Condos make a lot of money; it’s good for the city. Graffiti doesn’t do that.”
Some like Coun. Moscoe, feel art is not prone to consensus and that an artist needs complete freedom of expression.
Not surprisingly, many artists would agree.
“You can’t tell an artist where and when to draw or paint,” said Susie. “That sort of makes it feel like the artist is no longer creating art for themselves, but for someone else”.
Park feels that art cannot be sculpted by the orders of a politician, especially in the case of graffiti.
“The whole point of graffiti is to give life to parts of the city that are dead,” Park said. “The sketchy alley, the abandoned staircase, the places people avoid.”
Park feels graffiti is made to create beauty in places where beauty has been forsaken. She says by only allowing graffiti in certain, designated areas, it defeats the purpose.
For Andrew Lane, the city only allows certain art murals to promote gentrification, and raise property values.
He feels the city is not concerned with fostering the growth of this small art subculture.
“If you look at the art murals in Toronto, most of it is really contrived, like peace signs, or people holding hands,” Lane said. “To Miller, that is art, but the moment someone makes a political piece about poverty or police, it’s graffiti.”
--End--
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