Latest News

Science & Technology

Cracking into the mysteries of avian eggshells

by Ella Paulin on

More in Science & Technology:

Bird eggs, with their delicate embryos encased in protective shells, have been fine-tuned by millions of years of evolution. In a fertilized egg, each component is optimized to help the chicken embryo grow, protect it from bacterial invasion and predators, and ultimately allow it to break out of the shell and enter the world as a young chick. While the yolk and the egg white are often the stars of this show, especially for lovers of a sunny-side-up fried egg, the thin membrane just inside the eggshell plays an equally important role. It fulfills the dual purpose of providing an additional layer of protection against bacterial invasion and acting as an intermediary between the egg white and the shell.

Marc McKee, professor in the Faculty of Dental Medicine and Oral Health Science and the Faculty of Medicine, recently co-authored a paper with his doctoral student Daniel Buss and Natalie Reznikov, professor in the Department of Bioengineering, zooming in on this membrane, and specifically examining how the wet, organic fibres that make it up attach to the mineral in the eggshell.

“I work in the mineralized tissue field, also known as biomineralization, ” McKee explained in an interview with The Tribune. “It’s a joy for me to work in a field that lies at the intersection of biology, geology, and mineralogy.”

This attachment is intriguing because it binds together a hard inorganic material—the calcium-containing mineral of the shell—and a soft organic material—the fibrous network of the membrane.

Additionally, the bond between them is robust, making it a potentially valuable model for bioengineers looking to adhere other organic fibrous materials to minerals. McKee’s lab set out to investigate how the two materials attach to one another.

“Why is it that when you crack open an egg, you have to peel that membrane off the shell?” McKee said. “And if you look with high-powered electron microscopes, even if you peel it off, and you look at the shell, some fragments of the membranes are still attached.”

The team used X-ray and electron tomography, which involve capturing hundreds to thousands of images that can then be assembled into an incredibly detailed 3D model. Armed with these high-resolution images of the eggshells, they could dive into the detailed structure of the membrane-shell attachment.

First, they confirmed what scientists had already discovered: At the scale of micrometres, some fibres of the membrane actually penetrate the inner portion of the shell. However, using 3D electron microscopy, they could go a step further, zooming in to nanoscale resolution.

“When we delved very deep at the nanoscale into a single fibre using cryo-preservation techniques,” McKee explained, “we discovered that mineral ‘nanospikes’ entered the fibres themselves.”

This ‘nanospiking’ technique is critical because it adds another level of integration, which McKee explained is especially important when you have soft, wet membrane fibres trying to integrate into a hard mineral shell.

“We realized that it’s one thing to incorporate a fibre, but this fibre could still slide in and out of the rock, right? It’s wet, it’s soft, and it’s likely slippery. Within hard eggshell mineral, that attachment ‘rope’ could easily pull out. That’s not a very good attachment, and that would be disastrous for the egg,” McKee said. “We figured out that this nanospiking anchors these wet protein fibres so they can’t move in and out.” 

This remarkable mechanism, in which membrane fibres link into mineral at the microscale, and in turn, mineral penetrates into the fibres at the nanoscale, allows for a robust, secure attachment between the two different materials.

While this research is specific to the egg, there are other points of organic-inorganic contact in our bodies, such as where ligaments attach to bones. This discovery presents new insights about the eggshell membrane of bird eggs, and points the way toward further work aimed at understanding what happens when minerals meet organic material.

Science & Technology

SciTech Reviews: ‘Emperor of All Maladies’

by Atticus O’Rourke Rusin on

More in Science & Technology:

Although the risk of cancer-related death is declining in Canada, cancer remains the leading cause of death in this country. Given this reality, scientists have dramatically ramped up their research in the past several decades. However, cancer is not a new disease—humanity has made note of its presence for millennia, with the first recorded example tracing back to a scroll dating from 2500 B.C.

Siddhartha Mukherjee, author of The Emperor of all Maladies, traces the history of cancer research, from the idea that cancer was a “suppuration of blood” to the modern debate over the causal relation between cigarettes and cancer. 

Cancer, although united under one name, is in fact many diseases, all involving an uncontrollable growth of cells often as a result of genetic mutations. As an assistant professor of medicine at Columbia University and an oncologist, Mukherjee’s recounting of humanity’s ongoing battle with these diseases provides a view of societies throughout history and their approaches to cancer treatment. 

Inhotep, an Ancient Egyptian physician, described cancer as “a case of bulging masses,” which, according to the physician, had no known treatment. Herodotus, the ancient Greek historian known for his Histories, described the treatment of Atossa, who underwent surgery to remove a cancerous tumor. Moving centuries into the future, Mukherjee highlights the bleeding techniques of the Roman doctor Galen. Mukherjee notes, however, the rarity of cancer stories from early history. With life expectancy remaining low enough to hide much of the dramatic effects of cancer on human populations, cancer would not become a priority of scientific research until the 20th century. 

Interspersed with these historical details is Mukherjee’s own experiences as a doctor treating cancer patients. These stories help to ground an otherwise grandiose narrative spanning centuries in the present and provide a more personal insight into the struggles of cancer diagnosis, treatment, and recovery. Not every story involves recovery, and the book often unflinchingly describes patients experiencing terminal illnesses. The contrasting of those who recover with those who do not give the reader a sense, however small, of the hope and gravity constantly felt by cancer patients and their relatives and friends. Mukherjee’s powerful sense of empathy and humanity makes a book spanning a millennium feel personal. 

Rather than embracing an overly optimistic message, Murkhejee’s writing is nuanced and detailed. While highlighting the hopefulness of improving cancer treatment, he also underlines the many hurdles cancer research has faced. He carefully addresses the enduring inequities of medical treatment, the huge egos of politicians and doctors, and the lingering questions.

The frustrating prevalence of medically-unnecessary mastectomies is only one example. Megadose chemotherapy—massive doses of cytotoxic chemicals to kill cancer cells and then transplants to bring patients back from the brink of death—was touted as a revolution in cancer treatment, up until it was proven that its use had negligible impact on cancer survival. Its foremost proponent, Werner Bezwoda, was also shown to have falsified data to justify its use and to save his reputation. 

Mukherjee’s title, Emperor of All Maladies, personifies an illness. Cancer’s presence as mutations inside DNA itself, corrupting the very essence of what makes a human a human, earns this description. Although the book was published over a decade ago, its message is more important than ever before. Feelings of hopelessness and apathy have increased in the past few years, especially during the pandemic, which exposed many shortcomings of the Canadian healthcare system. Cancer, much like climate change, inequality, and political division, can become part of the white noise of living in a modern, capitalist state. Books like this, which educate and inspire through the lens of personal experience, are necessary to combat this abstraction of despair. 

All Things Academic, Student Life

Taking on an undergraduate thesis

by Maria Gheorghiu on

More in All Things Academic:

A little over a year ago, I reached a metaphorical wall in my life. I had left my job to focus on school, but as a keener (and overachiever), I felt like my undergraduate degree had little to offer. At that point, my time at McGill had been extended by a year, meaning I had two extra semesters of academic real estate to build on. In a combination of my ambition and interest, I decided to apply for the Honours Urban Studies program and take on an undergraduate thesis. A year in, I’m here to offer some pieces of advice for those of you who, like I was, are questioning taking this big step in their degrees.  

How can I find a topic?

A thesis is a big deal. Even if it’s smaller than one you might write in grad school, it’s still around 50 pages, depending on your program. This means you really need to enjoy your topic. Maybe you already know what you want to write about, and you’re ruminating on data collection methods and potential hypotheses. But if you’re like me, the only thing you know at this stage is that you want to produce some kind of knowledge. 

Luckily for me, my department has an honours seminar, where we were presented with an extensive document of projects our faculty needed help with, and it just so happened that one of the pitches stood out to me—I found myself drawn to residential energy poverty and its potential solutions. However, if you aren’t as lucky as I was, reaching out to the professors in your department is also a great first step. Chances are, your interests may align with theirs.  

Will I be able to write that much?

You haven’t even begun your thesis, and you’re already anxious at the idea of organizing all your thoughts into one big document. This is normal; your brain probably can’t wrap itself around the magnitude of a project you haven’t yet started working on. Take things one day at a time, and don’t overwhelm yourself by trying to figure it all out at once. 

Typically, your data collection and analysis is done during the summer, which leaves you with plenty of time in the fall and winter semesters for writing. I will say that this may vary based on the length of your writing period as determined by your program. Regardless, there’s no such thing as a linear path. If you can’t collect all your data in the period you determined, be kind to yourself and take your time. It’ll all work out in the end. 

Going back to the previous section, remember that while a thesis may seem hard to grapple with right now, it’s actually just small parts made of smaller parts, strung together into one big manuscript. Notion is a very popular online time and space organizer that you might be familiar with—although I personally like an old-school planner and notebook to keep track of my thoughts. 

What if an entire thesis is just too much?

There have been times when I have doubted my ability to write so many words on my topic, despite my passion for it. Sometimes stress gets the better part of me. The truth is that a thesis is no small feat, and while it’s entirely doable, it’s also a big commitment. Personally, I spent an entire summer collecting data, thinking over potential interpretations in my spare time. If you have a passion project that you want to try out for a semester, perhaps look into whether your department offers any three-credit independent research courses. 

If you read this piece, chances are the research bug has bitten you and you are trying to figure out if this is something you want. Even if a thesis seems daunting now, I highly encourage you to give it a try. It’s hard work, but the entire process is incredibly rewarding. Ultimately, you’ll conclude your degree with a concrete piece of work that you’ll be proud of for years to come. 

Science & Technology

Endometriosis and mental health: A novel study on the silent battle

by Zoe Dubin on

More in Science & Technology:

Commonly underdiagnosed, endometriosis affects one in 10 people assigned female at birth. Sufferers can experience difficult periods, excessive bleeding, painful sex, and infertility. Regulation of physical symptoms and surgical intervention may help, but a group of McGill researchers want clinicians to advocate for mental health support as an additional part of the treatment plan. 

Four of these researchers sat down for an interview with The Tribune to discuss their newly published paper, “Endometriosis, chronic pain, anxiety, and depression: A retrospective study among 12 million women.” 

“[Endometriosis] is a condition in which the cells from inside the uterus are located outside the uterus,” Togas Tulandi, chief of the Department of Obstetrics and Gynecology at the McGill University Health Centre, explained.

Drawing on seven years of medical records from over 12.9 million hospitalized women, the researchers revealed a significant association between endometriosis, chronic pain, and anxiety. 

This is the first study to use such a large database to research the mental health implications of endometriosis. They used data from the Healthcare Cost and Utilization Project (HCUP) database, which collects information from over a thousand American hospitals.

“We saw an additional effect between endometriosis and chronic pain […] the chance of anxiety increases when we have both of these situations together,” first-author and Université Laval master’s student Hormoz Nassiri Kigloo said. Furthermore, the combination of endometriosis and chronic pain with anxiety increased the patient’s likelihood of experiencing symptoms of depression. 

Interestingly, women with a history of anxiety were more likely to experience symptoms of endometriosis than those without. 

“[Our research] considers the impact of the mind and the mindset, the psyche, on the presentation [….] Because there’s the clinical presentation, and then there’s how I am functioning with those clinical symptoms,” Tina Montreuil, an associate professor in the Department of Educational and Counselling Psychology at McGill, said. “How we experience our symptoms, from a psychological perspective, can have an impact, not just in how we experienced the biological or physiological condition but also how we may not recover from it.” 

“[Getting help] is complicated by the fact that anxiety can be hard for patients to discuss with their doctor. Mental health is considered a stigma,” medical epidemiologist Eva Suarthana said. “So we’re hoping by showing this association, we can advocate more clinicians to really look at the mental health aspect when dealing with patients with endometriosis.” 

Aside from expanding the understanding of mental health and disease, this research also demonstrates the need for more comprehensive women’s health research. Historically, women’s health is an underexplored field—only in 1993 did the National Institute of Health formalize a requirement of enrolling and retaining women and minorities in clinical trials to combat the systemic exclusion of both groups. 

“Now, there’s people out there that really believe that there is a need to recognize the particularities and the specificities of the woman’s body biologically,” Montreuil said. 

In March 2023, McGill University Health Centre opened the Endometriosis Centre for the Advancement of REsearch and Surgery (EndoCARES)—Quebec’s first multidisciplinary referral centre for endometriosis.

“Endometriosis could affect the intestines, it could affect the bladder and other organs in the body,” Tulandi explained. “[EndoCARES] is run by gynecologists, but we have consultant colorectal, neurologist, and imaging experts.” 

Moreover, endometriosis is a disease of chronic inflammation, which in turn is linked to many comorbidities. “Chronic inflammation can cause other diseases […] like auto-immune disease or migraines,” Kigloo said. He is currently involved in research investigating the relationship between endometriosis and atherosclerosis, and hopes this research paper will pave the way for similar work.

As March, Endometriosis Awareness Month, approaches, the researchers urge students to learn about endometriosis and its symptoms. Acknowledging the personal stress and academic challenges students face, they emphasize the importance of recognizing the impact of mental health on overall well-being. 

Along Party Lines, News, Private

Along Party Lines: Quebec prevents the nomination of a professor specializing in multiculturalism, systemic racism, and Islamophobia 

by Oscar Macquet on

More in Along Party Lines:

Denise Helly, a full professor at the National Institute of Scientific Research (INRS)—a branch of the University of Quebec (UQ)—focuses her research on multiculturalism, Islamophobia, systemic racism, and the anti-woke movement. On Dec. 20, Helly received word that Quebec’s Minister of Higher Education, Pascale Déry, had struck down her candidature to the INRS administrative council. This news was met with much confusion at the INRS, as Helly had successfully cleared every step of the institution’s internal nomination process.

In an article published by the Fédération québécoise des professeures et professeurs d’université (FQPPU) on Jan. 19, Jean-Charles Grégoire, president of the INRS’ professors’ union, stated that the structure of the INRS stipulates that the government nominate two professors designated by the faculty of the institute to the administrative council. Grégoire explained that although the INRS received the news that Helly’s candidature was refused, the Ministry provided no further explanation.

Déry and her cabinet enjoy ministerial discretion and are thus not required to disclose any information regarding Helly’s blocked nomination. Alexandre Cloutier, President of the UQ, expressed his concern regarding the unusual ministerial intervention to Le Devoir.

Cloutier decried the Ministry’s infringement on both university autonomy and academic freedom, stressing the importance of the university’s ability to carry out their duties without “doctrinal, ideological, or moral constraints.” The president of UQ declared having scheduled a meeting with Déry’s ministerial team, in which he intends to defend the institution’s internal nomination process and demand a justification for Helly’s veto. 

Helly spoke out against the ministerial intervention, claiming in an interview with Le Devoir that the subject of her research, which includes multiculturalism, systemic racism, discrimination, Islamophobia, and the anti-woke movement, was likely behind the government’s opposition to her nomination. She believes that these topics of discussion are “bothersome” to the Coalition Avenir Québec (CAQ), the provincial party currently in power. She also explained that if the minister refuses to explain her decision to exercise her discretionary power, the nature of the decision would be “arbitrary.” 

Opposition party leaders and members of the teaching faculty have expressed their indignation regarding what they, too, deem as “arbitrary censorship” from the ministry and called for a clarification of the government’s opposition to Helly’s nomination. The circumstances surrounding the government’s decision raised concerns regarding the respect of the Law on academic liberty in the university sector adopted in June 2022, which protects higher education institutions’ autonomy. 

Marwah Rizqy, the Liberal representative from Saint-Laurent in the National Assembly of Quebec, said that, without an explanation, Déry’s decision could be understood as an act of censorship. House Leader of the opposition party Québec Solidaire, Alexandre Leduc, implored Minister Déry to publicly explain the reason behind her decision.

After over a month of silence from the Ministry of Higher Education, Déry shared on Jan. 26 that Helly’s nomination to the administrative council of the INRS was foregone due to “links” with imam Adil Charkaoui, who Canadian authorities suspected of terrorism. In 2015, Helly received a prize for her “efforts in the fight against Islamophobia” from the Collectif Quebecois contre l’islamophobie (CQCI), an organization in which Charkaoui was a collaborator. 
Helly spoke out against this justification for her blocked appointment to the administrative board, claiming that she was the object of a “smear campaign” led by the CAQ’s Ministry of Higher Education. Helly told Le Devoir that Déry’s statement did not “change the nature of the situation”: In the eyes of the INRS, the Ministry’s disregard for the institution’s nomination process constitutes a violation of university autonomy.

McGill, News

The Tribune Explains: Responses to rising COVID-19 cases on campus

by Esther Forbes on

More in McGill:

Quebec experienced over 3,200 new cases from Jan. 7 to 13, according to the province’s most recent data. This uptick in cases has added strain to the already overburdened healthcare system, which has long wait times and packed emergency rooms at over 100 per cent capacity.

While medical masks and hand sanitizer remain available in most McGill buildings, McGill has eliminated all other health protocols that were previously in place to help counter COVID-19, such as mandatory masking, social distancing, classroom caps, and requirements for classes to be recorded. The Tribune spoke to McGill, the Students’ Society of McGill University (SSMU), and the nursing student representative to the McGill Senate about COVID-19 protocols around campus.

How is McGill handling the rise in cases?

McGill Media Relations Officer, Frédérique Mazerolle, told The Tribune that resources are in place for those who get COVID-19 or are otherwise ill, including consulting an academic advisor about accommodations and ways to complete course material.

“McGill offers many resources to help support students in meeting their academic and personal goals, including the Student Wellness Hub, faculty-specific resources, and other academic resources,” Mazerolle wrote. “If a student becomes ill or otherwise unable to complete academic requirements, the Office of the Dean of Students can help students understand their rights and responsibilities as members of the McGill community and can help explore reasonable ways to alleviate barriers to completing requirements.”

Mazerolle also offered insight on the future of classroom recordings at McGill, explaining that the university’s activities are designed for in-person learning.

“It is important to remember that some instructors may include online resources, assessments, or exams as part of the course materials, however they are not obligated to do so, and that processes around academic accommodation can also vary by faculty,” Mazerolle wrote to The Tribune. 

What resources does SSMU provide?

In an email to The Tribune, SSMU Vice-President (VP) Student Life Nadia Dakdouki reaffirmed the student union’s commitment to providing support for students taking precautions against COVID-19. Dakdouki also explained that SSMU offers medical and N95 masks to students at the SSMU office and around the University Centre, as well as hand sanitizer.  

“[The SSMU continues] to comply with government regulations regarding COVID, but we also try our best to cater to students who wish to take extra measures.” Dakdouki wrote.“Outside of COVID concerns, SSMU provides most of its healthcare support by offering a health and dental insurance plan and the keep.meSAFE program (for mental health support).” 

While Dakdouki confirmed that the SSMU does not stock COVID-19 tests, those with COVID-19-related concerns should be made aware that pharmacies in Quebec distribute them for free to full-time students who are between the ages of 18 and 25.

Do students feel adequately supported?

Naomi Pastrana Mankovitz, U3 Nursing and a nursing senator, feels that McGill’s current protocols are failing to adequately protect vulnerable individuals and to prevent the spread of COVID-19. With experience working in emergency rooms (ERs) throughout nursing rotations, Pastrana Mankovitz also attested to the shortcomings of the government’s current health and safety protocols in hospitals.

“We act as if the pandemic is over, but we just don’t care about those that are more vulnerable to the effects of COVID.” Pastrana Mankovitz wrote. “Wearing a mask is still needed especially during flu seasons. The ERs are chronically over capacity. I am doing my rotation in the ER right now, and a really good day is 125 per cent capacity. McGill is following government and health recommendations, but we can all do better.”

Features

Live music should not be a luxury

by Dana Prather on

More in Features:

 I used to think that the annual McGill course registration process was a uniquely hellish ordeal. As any student reading this knows all too well, the springtime ritual of scheduling your required courses and a fun elective or two can quickly devolve into an anxiety-inducing mad dash. We all remember the picture: Rushing to make it to Minerva’s registration page, double-checking CRN numbers as you fill in the Quick Add/Drop page, debating whether you should risk refreshing your browser or simply wait out the loading bar. If you’re registering from outside the East Coast, you might be forcing your bleary-eyed self to wake at, say, 5:45 a.m. to prepare for the process’s 8:00 a.m. kickoff two time zones away. While I’ve gotten used to this necessary evil over the past few years, I was dismayed to encounter a similar cycle of scramble, wait, stress, and repeat when trying to buy concert tickets.

To me, there is something almost transcendent about seeing and experiencing live music. When my piano teacher first played for me, my six-year-old self was transfixed as I listened to him tickle the ivories to show me what “Pop Goes the Weasel” was //supposed// to sound like. I was hooked. I took any chance I could to listen to live music of any genre. In high school, I saved up my babysitting money for when the odd musical act would tour through Alberta. I even worked as an usher at a local arena, picking up extra shifts anytime a band or solo artist was performing, just to enjoy their shows for free. 

Though my own music making has since been relegated to off-key shower vocals and occasionally playing around on my parents’ Yamaha keyboard when I’m home for breaks, my passion for live music remains. Whether I’m sitting way up in the nosebleeds with my closest friends or squeezing my way to the barricade alone amid hundreds of strangers, there is something about witnessing art created in real time, surrounded by people, that makes me feel present in a way unlike any other. Unfortunately, experiencing the connection and joy of live music is not always within reach, and it has only become more inaccessible over time.  

Back in Sept. 2023, I set out to buy tickets for a Noah Kahan concert. Even though I had seen the folk pop artist merely months earlier at MTelus in June, I was still excited by the prospect of seeing him again on the city’s biggest stage. I had managed to snag a floor ticket for around $80 for that gig, a price I felt was reasonable enough to stomach for the sake of seeing a musician I admire. I prepared for the presale time the same way I do for course registration: I loaded up the Ticketmaster website fifteen minutes before the designated time, copying my registration code onto my laptop’s clipboard for easy access, and precariously perching my laptop beside my apartment’s WiFi router to glean any possible speed advantage. When the countdown clock on my screen finally hit zero, I frantically copied and pasted my access code into the site. Then, I waited. Eyes glued on the screen, I held my breath as I inched my way toward the front of the virtual queue. Even with all my preparation, every somewhat-affordable ticket had been snatched up by the time I could checkout. If I wanted to attend the gig, I would need to shell out over $400 for floor tickets. 

Obviously, the outcome of this failed attempt is a lot lower stakes than course registration—missing out on seeing “Folk Malone” live won’t delay my graduation date. Yet the parallel between the level of preparation and speed needed to secure spots in McGill courses or Montreal concerts would be funny if it weren’t so absurd. And it’s not just this one artist or this one concert. In the past few years, being priced out of seeing live music has become an all too common occurrence.

2023 was undoubtedly a banner year for the live music industry, with record-breaking acts like Taylor Swift’s Eras tour and Beyonce’s Renaissance tour dominating pop culture conversations and generating record-breaking sales. But almost in step with the flurry of headlines about these pop icons’ live performances were social media posts, think pieces, and news articles highlighting the trend of skyrocketinging ticket prices. Indeed, in the last year alone, the average cost of tickets in North America increased over 21 per cent. These rising costs, due in part to inflation, can also be attributed to the industry’s shift in focus from physical vinyl and CD sales to streaming. Known in the industry as digital service providers (DSPs), streaming services are notorious for poor remuneration; artists receive a measly payout of $0.00318 and $0.008 per stream from Spotify and Apple Music respectively. 

This loss of income from the music itself, combined with venues taking large cuts from merchandise sales to stay afloat themselves, often puts artists in the position where they need to maximize their touring income. Furthermore, sellers such as Ticketmaster and its parent company Live Nation, the world’s largest ticket promoter, have come under fire for artificially raising prices through bad-faith marketing and dynamic ticket pricing. In this model, ticket prices fluctuate depending on demand, surging if a significant number of people try to buy tickets at once. These price gouging tactics hike the face-value cost of tickets, so when paired with Ticketmaster’s lax protections against ticket resellers, the result is a perfect storm of inflated prices. 

However, the blame for inflated ticket costs cannot be placed solely on the greed of streaming platforms, ticket resellers, and official distribution channels. If the past year has proven anything, it is that there are still people willing to dig deeper into their pockets for the chance to see their favourite artists live. Swift’s Eras tour, which will be coming to Canada for the first time when it stops at Toronto’s Rogers Centre in Nov. 2024, exemplifies this: All face-value tickets—from the ‘cheaper’ upper bowl seats starting at $160 to VIP tickets going for as much as $2,500—sold out immediately upon release. 

Altogether, these factors—inflation, pitiful streaming royalties, absurd resale prices, minimal intervention from major ticket distribution companies—have turned seeing live music into a luxury fewer and fewer people can afford. 

What exactly is it that drives people to seek out live music, even at these soaring costs? In an age when people have more access than ever to music from their favourite artists through streaming services, high-definition YouTube videos of late-night performances, and even grainy TikTok live streams of the most popular shows, why invest in a concert ticket? 

For Morgan Thompson, a self-described “avid concert-goer” who attended 85 shows last year, seeing an artist live affords him the opportunity to hear their music as he believes they intended. 

“It’s a way to experience the artist in //their// way. I could listen to Lorde [in my headphones] at work, but I don’t think that’s necessarily how you’re //supposed// to listen to them perform,” Thompson told //The Tribune//. 

Thompson has been attending concerts consistently for the past six years, and while he draws a hard boundary at paying for resale tickets, he still believes seeing live music is generally worth the face-value price. 

“I would describe it as ‘young brain,’” referring to his philosophy of shelling out for concerts. “[I think] ‘Oh, I’m young, money will come back. I’ll just go see them while I can,’ […] because you never know what’s going to happen.” 

This attitude which, for better or for worse, prioritizes current joy over future financial consequences, should come as no surprise after the devastating effects of the COVID-19 pandemic on the live music scene and the entertainment industry at large. Audiences are now more keenly aware than ever that sharing space and watching music as a community is a privilege that can be disrupted by unforeseen plagues or pitfalls just around the corner. 

Similar attitudes have carried over into Montreal’s vibrant alternative music scene. A cultural hub with a relatively affordable cost of living, Montreal has been a prime hotspot for independent musicians since the burgeoning jazz and blues scene put the city on the map in the early 20th century. Everyone from the legendary Leonard Cohen to indie favourite Mac DeMarco to up-and-comer Yves Jarvis has cut their teeth and honed their artistry in the city’s intimate venues. Jon Nudell, a concert promoter who works under the handle @goodshows, has noticed an impressive resurgence in attendance at these sorts of shows after restrictions on bars, clubs, and other live music venues began lifting in early 2022. 

“There were shows in 2019 that 30 people would go to, and those same shows 250 people go to now,” Nudell remarked about the surge in post-pandemic attendance in an interview with //The Tribune//. 

Having started out as a musician in local bands, Nudell was drawn to organizing shows at smaller local venues as a means of platforming independent artists that he believed in and introducing audiences to a diverse set of genres. While he has tried to keep the prices down, independent shows are not immune to rising costs. Here, a lack of large ticket distributors and resellers leaves inflation as the primary culprit. 

“Shows that would have been $10 before the pandemic were $15 in 2022, and [they] are now $20,” Nudell said. “[Inflation is] making everything more expensive, but I still try to make things as cheap as possible. I try to hit a sweet spot.”   

This balance between affordability and realistic pricing is a fine line that venue owners such as Sergio Da Silva, co-owner of Turbo Haüs, must walk. 

“There is a bit of animosity between me, who has to run this place, and people who want to come and enjoy themselves [….] It comes down to money, having to spend money to be at a place that you think is important,” Da Silva explained in an interview with //The Tribune//. 

“On a very base level, I absolutely understand. It’s important to be able to participate in these things and not be priced out of them.”

A small bar/venue in the Latin Quarter that hosts everything from Wednesday jazz nights to hardcore punk shows, Turbo Haüs is a local favourite that employs a team of 25, including sound technicians, security guards, bartenders, cleaners, and social media managers. All employees are provided insurance that covers dental and mental healthcare, expenses that, coupled with inflation, make maintaining pre-pandemic price points nearly impossible. 

“If I can’t get a Big Mac trio for $15, then you’re not coming into the show for less than fucking $10 or $15 dollars. […] Whatever daydream [people] have about this time when there were $5 shows, it’s done,” Da Silva confirmed. 

Still, Da Silva is determined to keep the community aspect of the music scene going strong. This sense of community and belonging is particularly important for Black people, other people of colour, queer and trans people, people experiencing mental illness, and other marginalized people, many of whom were at the forefront of counterculture movements in the punk scene, despite what the often whitewashed history of the genre might lead you to believe. 

“[For] lots of people who come to shows […], these kinds of get-togethers are not a luxury. They need to happen. You need that sense of community,” Da Silva acknowledged. 

It is precisely this focus on community that lies at the heart of Montreal’s independent music scene. Amid the landscape of ever-rising ticket prices, venues like Turbo Haüs keep live performance accessible, allowing fellow music lovers to gather week after week, sharing space and joy as they witness live music. This sense of togetherness cannot become a privilege reserved for the few who have the disposable income to spend on large-scale concerts. Ensuring the accessibility of live music, and supporting the local venues that make it possible, is crucial; beyond industry and enjoyment, it is about preserving a community.

Editorial, Opinion

Divestment from fossil fuels was the first step; divestment from genocide is the next

by The Tribune Editorial Board on

More in Editorial:

Following 12 years of mobilization from students and faculty, the Board of Governors (BoG) voted on Dec. 14 to divest from all direct holdings in Carbon Underground (CU) 200 fossil fuel companies. This is a significant step toward greater environmental justice and a well-deserved victory for Divest McGill, an organization whose central role in pushing McGill to divest has been entirely neglected by the university.

Since 2012, Divest McGill has carried much of the student and faculty activism on their shoulders, pressuring the university to divest from fossil fuels. Simultaneously engaging in disruption with students and conversation with the administration, multiple generations of McGill students have continuously called on the university to address its role in the climate crisis. Yet McGill’s announcement of their decision to divest makes no mention of Divest McGill, thus completely erasing student activism from their narrative.

Although this commitment to divestment and the relentless student activism that led to it should be celebrated, there is nothing radical or revolutionary about the university’s initiative. Following the path of Harvard and Concordia, McGill’s decision is part of the institution’s performative effort to protect its reputation and keep fueling its greenwashing machine. At other Canadian institutions, such as the University of British Columbia , the divestment plan has been set to take almost 10 years, not to be completed until 2030. On the other hand, McGill has committed to divest from its direct holdings in CU200 companies by 2025. 

Now more than ever, the student body—this generation and the next—must continue mobilizing to hold the university accountable to its commitment to sustainability. Divesting only from direct holdings is not enough—McGill must carry out the same initiative with its remaining indirect holdings in CU200 companies, and also other investments into companies that produce fossil fuels.

But to truly commit to the goal of sustainability in which McGill prides itself, the university needs to acknowledge that climate justice and social justice only exist with each other. The announcement of divestment from fossil fuels occurred strategically after students overwhelmingly voted for the Policy Against Genocide in Palestine and its targeting of investments in companies that fund occupation and apartheid in Palestine. McGill cannot use divestment from fossil fuels as a distraction from student and faculty calls demanding divestment from companies complicit in the genocide of nearly 25,000 Palestinian people in Gaza. Instead, divestment from fossil fuels sets a fundamental precedent for other necessary and urgent forms of divestment.

In 1985, McGill was the first Canadian university to take a moral, political, and economic stance through its investments and divest from corporations complicit in South African apartheid in response to student activism. This commitment to protect human rights must stand the test of time, and the university must stop co-signing murder and genocide by putting an end to their investments supporting both the Israeli regime and violence around the world.

The Students’ Society of McGill University (SSMU) has a critical role to play in holding McGill accountable to their commitment to divest. With every policy presented by SSMU and voted on by the student body, students’ demands stand behind a united front and become harder for the university to ignore. Although the university’s administration and its governing structures have an overwhelming amount of control over student governance—and has time and again bypassed student democracy—the SSMU President is the sole undergraduate voice sitting on the BoG representing students’ demands. In 2021, SSMU adopted the Divest for Human Rights Policy along with several other student organizations, which played a significant role in pressuring the university to divest from fossil fuels. The policy also demanded that McGill cut ties with companies that enable violence against Indigenous peoples in the Americas, Palestinians, Yemenis, and Uyghurs. SSMU must keep its commitment to this policy and pressure the BoG to implement every single demand for divestment.

The step that McGill took last December is a major victory for student activists, but not the end of the fight. Student mobilization must build on Divest’s success and grow stronger to ensure that the university actively commits to social justice in every aspect, from climate justice to the protection of human rights.

Commentary, Opinion

Lecture recordings are a necessary step for greater accessibility

by Zoya Mirza on

More in Commentary:

Finding mental health support as a McGill student has been a challenge for quite some time, with the university’s meagre efforts to offer services—like animal therapy and peer supporters—falling short. The Student Wellness Hub is inadequate for the majority of the student population; however, the jarring lack of mental health resources is just one aspect of McGill’s larger, overall thoughtlessness when it comes to accessibility. Lecture recordings, or the lack thereof, is a striking example of the university’s failure and continuous refusal to respond to students’ essential needs.  

Whether cramming for finals or catching up on a missed class, lecture recordings can be helpful for any student, and not ensuring access to them is a major letdown on the university’s part. While not having recorded lectures may seem like a slight inconvenience, this raises accessibility concerns for students for whom recorded classes are a necessary tool for learning. Given the progress of technology and the increasing use of technical tools in higher education, McGill must make recorded lectures mandatory. 

Over 30 per cent of McGill students are international, while almost half come from Quebec, which means that English is a second or even third language for many. While the ability to follow lectures in English is a justified requirement for McGill, the university must acknowledge that levels of fluency may vary significantly. Lecture recordings allow students to slow down, rewind, and watch the captions to a lecture, facilitating students’ understanding and learning.

But more than a tool for learning, lecture recordings are a necessary accommodation for students with health issues, either physical or mental. Even something as simple as a cold can justify the case for mandatory lecture recordings, as it is inconsiderate and unsafe to require students to come to class when showing symptoms of illness.

For students who suffer from chronic illnesses or struggle with their mental health, getting out of bed and going to a class is not always an option. In those cases, not recording classes almost seems like a conscious choice of not supporting certain students—when McGill prides itself for its mental health services. 

Recording lectures confronts the inequalities among students that force some to work one—sometimes even two—part-time jobs to make ends meet—on an already financially inaccessible campus. These students have no choice but to miss certain classes and sometimes must rely on often incomplete slides or classmates’ notes to try and grasp important concepts and lessons. Past a certain point, it can become discouraging and fruitless to constantly be playing catch-up on missed lectures with no recordings. McGill’s lack of support on the matter sends the message that this is entirely the students’ problem. 

Professors should record classes because it provides a fair and equitable opportunity for //all// students to engage with the class material they pay tuition for, rather than catering exclusively to privileged students who are able to attend every lecture in person. In the absence of recordings, classes will remain exclusionary. 

This issue of accessibility links to a general pattern of neglect from the McGill administration. Although the university provides students with the option to book appointments with mental health professionals through the Student Wellness Hub, these appointments are infamously difficult to access due to lack of practicians and high demand. Students seeking psychiatric care have for example reported long wait times and complicated booking procedures. Especially given how mental health recognition appears to be increasing at other major universities, such as Queen’s and the University of British Columbia, McGill’s lack of resources and care is even more glaring. Having accessible education is vital to students’ mental health and thus academic success, and it is counterproductive for McGill to ignore this major accessibility issue. McGill must address its student body’s well-being in order to improve the quality and impact of its own education.

Commentary, Opinion

Legault’s populism will not address the opioid crisis

by Emanuel Curto on

More in Commentary:

Quebec’s opioid crisis is worsening. In 2023, paramedics administered more naloxone to treat acute overdoses than ever before, and death from opioid toxicity is set to reach its highest levels yet, continuing an upward trend since 2019. Novel synthetic opioids, such as isotonitazene, which can be deadly even in minute quantities, continue to exacerbate the crisis in Montreal. Premier François Legault has said very little in response to the province’s opioid crisis, illustrating that it is not a priority for his government. This should come as no surprise. His populism is uniquely unsuited to tackle this crisis as there is no quick and easy political solution that will rally his base and address the issue at its core. Tackling Quebec’s opioid problem will require policy leg-work and a commitment to nuanced conversations that Quebec’s current government is ill-equipped to engage in. 

Since the 1990s, the role of opioids has changed in the medical community. Opioid prescriptions’ limited use for palliating individuals with painful cancers has expanded to the treatment of chronic non-cancer pain. This change in culture is often associated with mis-interpretations of the now infamous Porter-Jick study, which shifted the pain management paradigm toward opioids. Concurrently, the now-defunct Purdue Pharma provided misleading data to sales representatives and the medical community suggesting that Oxycontin, their flag-ship opioid drug, was less addictive and dangerous than their competitors’ products. Today, Canada is among the world’s largest per-capita consumers of opioids. For the past few decades, prescription opioids have been relatively easy to access both by prescription or through family members to whom they have been prescribed. 

In 2001, Portugal became the first country to decriminalize possession of hard drugs for individual use. As a consequence, incarcerations, HIV transmissions, and overdoses decreased in Portugal in the early 2000s. With Portugal’s policies being largely viewed as a success, British Columbia received an exemption from article 56(1) of Canada’s Controlled Drugs and Substances Act. More recently, Toronto requested a federal exemption, and although Montreal’s city council has signalled its support for an exemption they have yet to request one from the Public Health Agency of Canada. 

However, decriminalization is not an unfettered panacea. Portugal has failed to invest in and invigorate existing programs linked with decriminalization; thus, the country’s success at addressing its drug issue is waning, and they are no longer touted as an ideal model for the policy. This failure demonstrates that persistent effort and adopting a dynamic approach to decriminalization are necessary to address the opioid crisis. As seen in Portugal, the decriminalize-and-walk-away model does not work. However, Legault’s reluctance to maintain funding for supervised injection sites in Montreal stifles hopes for any form of sustained effort to address Quebec’s opioid crisis. This demonstrates not only his apathy toward those suffering but an unwillingness to engage with a public health issue whose mortality continues to increase. Legault’s complacency on Quebec’s opioid crisis also perpetuates colonial violence by neglecting an issue that disproportionately affects Indigenous peoples. 

Ultimately, Legault’s populism is antithetical to what the opioid crisis requires. The crisis is most visible in urban areas–– areas whose populations do not make up a consequential percentage of the CAQ’s voter base. It’s an issue that Conservative leader Pierre Polievre has demonstrated can easily become partisan. But hoping Legault will be the saviour and both depoliticize and articulate a nuanced message on a public health failure is delusional. Consider his approach toward addressing the decline of French as first language across the province, for example: The provincial government forfeited nuance in favour of challenging the viability of institutions that form the pillars of Quebec’s tertiary education system. 
Legislators must make decriminalization politically viable to the electorate, but Legault’s government continues to demonstrate an inability to push any debate beyond a simple populist divide. Until Quebec’s politics catches up with the scale of the opioid crisis, local governments and individual advocates must protect the institutions meaningfully addressing the crisis, notably supervised consumption services such as Cactus Montreal, Dopamine, L’Anonyme and Spectre de rue.

1 … 157 158 159 160 161 … 1,363

Read the latest issue

Read the latest issue