Living in Montreal, there’s a lot to be proud of, even more to be healthily suspicious of, and sometimes, quite a bit to complain about. Construction blocking your path for the fifth time this week? Narrowly avoided getting sideswiped by a rampaging cabbie yet again? Tuition fees continuing to rise while your wallet only gets lighter and lighter? These are all valid concerns, and are all felt by many of us here at McGill. Sometimes, however, people get up-in-arms about something so trivial that it begs the question of why anyone cares in the first place.

The latest controversy to stir up the community comes courtesy of a recent project by McGill University Services, which some see as an attempt to build an imposing, fortress-like enclosure out of our once peaceful and scenic campus—no doubt with the intention of frightening the university’s 38,779 students into simultaneous obedience. “What could possibly be so terrifying and/or dramatic?” you may wonder.

As it happens, bike barriers were installed at the Milton Gates over the summer. Three foot tall, dinky, metal bike barriers. ‘Gate’ is a bit of a misnomer, considering that anyone with an agenda can easily barge (or cycle) right on through if so desired. They even swing.

As anyone who has wandered down University Street can attest, the Milton Gates entrance is jam-packed full of students, professors, and assorted Montrealers on any given day. If you were to poll a random sample of these commuters, chances are very few would welcome getting run over by a speeding cyclist, which is why these barriers were installed in the first place. A recent article by the McGill Reporter describes “at least four incidents of collisions between cyclists and pedestrians in recent years,” as well as numerous anecdotes about near-misses; the implementation of these bike barriers, modest though they may be, is purely in the interest of public safety.

And even if it weren’t, these gates are so unobtrusive that for most of us, walking through them doesn’t even register as an event, much like opening a door, or putting on pants in the morning. If ever there was a definition of anti-climatic, it is the gentle brushing aside of a weakly protesting turnstile. The whole process is forgettable and insignificant in the extreme, yet these gates’ mere existence has provoked members of the student community to the point of necessitating a 700-word essay denouncing them (in which, by the way, these relatively innocuous turnstiles are painted as instruments of anti-environmental, anti-francophone, and anti-intellectual sentiment, all in one go).

The fact that such an argument is considered worthy of anything but the paper shredder indicates one of two things: a lamentably slow news week around McGill’s downtown campus, during which absolutely nothing of note occurred—or, failing that, the beginning of the end for journalism.

Between its vibrant social scene, dubious political schemes, gang presence, monetary issues (felt especially at McGill), and more, there’s quite a bit to write about in this city, and even more to gripe about, if one were so inclined. This isn’t to say that we shouldn’t protest things with which we disagree; that’s how democracy works, after all.  If you don’t like something, tell the people in charge and if enough people share your view, that something may get changed to a better something.  But whining about bike gates? That’s just a waste of time.

“I don’t oppose all wars. What I am opposed to is a dumb war.”

On October 3, 2002, a young state senator gave an impassioned speech at an anti-war rally in the face of interventionist musings by the Bush White House. Two weeks later, the United States House of Representatives passed the Iraq Resolution, a move that began one of the longest military blunders since the Vietnam War. On the bright side, the political gods smile favourably on the few who challenge such neoconservative attempts at nation building. The state senator, Barack Obama, went on to win his 2004 Senate race and gain edtraction in the 2008-election cycle.

It is doubtful that Obama would be where he is today had he championed a campaign that shed inconceivable amounts of blood and treasure. His election brought a collective sigh of relief to the global community—not only because we fell in love with his words, but also because we believed he would stand for a foreign policy in which facts and reason would triumph over passion and greed.

Thirty-two years before the great orator condemned the invasion, a young Alawite general came to power in Sunni-dominated Syria through a bloodless coup. Hafez al-Assad began a 30-year rule that oversaw massive economic growth, the establishment of a neutral foreign policy, and the empowerment of women and children through secularism and public education. However, his regime would be stained by a single, brutal event: the Hama massacre. In 1982, a siege on an Islamist stronghold saw Assad’s air force kill 20,000 militants and civilians. This tragedy is not disputed, but the western media typically neglects to mention what led to it. From 1976 to 1982, Syria experienced an Islamic uprising led by the Muslim Brotherhood, in which civilians, government officials, and, most notably, schools for girls, were targeted by suicide bombings and assassinations. The horror of this insurgency, amidst Assad’s attempt to build a modern Arab state, terrified secularists, liberals, women, and religious minorities, the same groups who today fear what a rebel victory could bring.

That state senator is a different person today. Now president, Obama has advocated launching a “tactical strike” on yet another Arab nation, an incursion that will likely cost billions, devastate an already-crippled state, and provide Islamist rebel groups favourable conditions necessary to massacre countless Alawite, Christian, and Shi’ite Syrians. Clearly, Bashar al-Assad fails to meet the western standard of statesmanship. However, the current media image of him ignores the bigger picture. The regime he inherited in 2000 was one of the most progressive in the Arab world, and Bashar al-Assad liberalized Syria’s economy and press to an extent unthinkable under Hafez, while simultaneously welcoming back and liberating thousands of Syrian exiles and political prisoners. Although he has been merciless in preserving the nation that his father built, it is inconceivable to think that a sharia state would be a suitable alternative to the modern society that still endures in the Fertile Crescent today.

It is laudable that the Obama administration is now taking a step back from its earlier threats of military action. It appears that Secretary Kerry, who once was on good terms with the Syrian dictator, has been leashed following brash statements which wildly oversimplified the situation. If he is any student of history, specifically the fates of American leaders who intervened in internal foreign conflicts, the president would leave Syria alone.