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Out on the Town, Student Life

Indulging in Ăn Chè Desserts

by Abby McCormick on

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Visiting one of Montreal’s many bakeries is a great way to satisfy your sweet tooth while supporting a local business. Those in search of rich desserts with naturally sourced ingredients should look no further than Ăn Chè Desserts. This home bakery, currently operating out of pop-up shops, offers a wide variety of Vietnamese desserts, from steamed layer cake to pandan jelly. 

Ăn Chè, which translates to Let’s go eat Chè, specializes in the traditional Vietnamese dessert chè, adding new flavours and ingredients for a modern spin. Chè, a jelly-based dessert typically served in a bowl of sweetened milk, can be topped with tapioca pearls, fruit, coconut cream, and bean paste. Regardless of the season, it makes for an ideal snack as it can be served hot or cold.

Ăn Chè Desserts’ founder, Linh Le Kim, turned her passion for making desserts into a business venture this past June. After receiving positive reviews from her family and friends, Le Kim felt  encouraged to sell her creations to the wider Montreal community. 

“Much to my surprise, there was a huge response,” Le Kim said in an interview with The McGill Tribune. “People loved the texture and found [the desserts] beautiful and colourful.”

For Le Kim, baking is a way of paying tribute to her culture and reminiscing about her childhood.

“My family was supposed to go back to Vietnam [when COVID-19 hit], and I began trying to recreate the memories of Vietnam at home,” Le Kim said. “My inspiration comes from my mother and the part of my childhood spent in Vietnam.”

Ăn Chè prides itself on the naturally sourced ingredients and colouring the team uses to hand-craft every dish on the menu.

“[We] don’t take shortcuts,” Le Kim said. “[Ăn Chè aims for] the real taste of chè pre-globalization, when artificial flavours weren’t as widely available.”

One of Ăn Chè’s most popular desserts from their recent pop-up shop is the pandan deluxe. This dish is traditionally made with three components and served over ice with coconut milk. Ăn Chè’s pandan includes handmade pandan jelly, tapioca water jelly, and bean paste, all blended in a coconut milk base. These ingredients make for a dessert that is chewy, crunchy, and refreshing.

Ăn Chè’s clientele varies greatly from younger to older people and from Montreal locals to students. Many of Le Kim’s older customers visit Ăn Chè in search of childhood tastes, while those who aren’t familiar with Vietnamese desserts visit for the opportunity to try something new. 

“Our goal is to be traditional, but modern enough to be approachable for younger people or those who aren’t exposed [to Vietnamese flavours],” Le Kim said.

With most desserts from this region being vegan and gluten-free, Southeast Asian desserts are known for their fruity ingredients, vivid colours, and unique mix of textures. Common elements include cassava, agar-agar, pandan, palm sugar, taro, and tropical fruits. 

“Southeast Asian flavours aren’t yet mainstream in Montreal or in North America, so we have room to grow,” Le Kim said. “It touches so many cultures, from Malaysian to Indonesian.”

Since its opening last year, Ăn Chè has continued to operate through pop-up shops. These have primarily taken the form of three-day set-ups at local cafes, including Dans L’Espace and Leaves Cafe. 

Ăn Chè will partner with 12 other vendors in its next pop-up shop entitled Vision. This pop-up will be taking place on Saturday, Dec. 4 from 11 a.m. to 6 p.m. at 435 Rue Beaubien West in Outremont. It will include new dishes, such as glutinous rice chè, pandan steamed cakes, and pandan honeycomb cake.

Out on the Town, Student Life

Students croon for the comeback of karaoke

by Isabella González on

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Karaoke allows people to come together and shine on the stage regardless of their musical talents; it is a stage where shower singers and professional singers stand on equal footing. When dance floors and other nightlife venues in Montreal officially reopened on November 15, people could once again head to the karaoke stage to belt their favourite songs—and McGill students are itching to grab a mic once again.

Hana Mollin, U1 Management, enjoys karaoke because it gives her the opportunity to sing freely in front of an audience. 

“It’s a very low-stress way of singing,” Mollin told The McGill Tribune. “I like to sing in the shower or when I’m driving. But I don’t tend to sing in front of people a lot, so karaoke is fun. I don’t mind singing in front of people [there] just because of the environment. It’s a place where everybody can come together and sing.”

For others looking forward to the return of karaoke, like Luciana Decormis, U2 Education, it’s all about the spotlight. 

“I think my favourite thing about karaoke is I really like attention,” Decormis said. “So I like performing and it’s just so fun.” 

Although karaoke allows individuals to indulge in the spotlight, it can be a community experience for many. Izabella Beller, U2 Arts, typically picks crowd-pleaser songs to allow others in the room to join in. Her favourite songs to sing include classics from Mamma Mia or heart-wrenching Taylor Swift ballads.

“If it’s just a song that I like that a lot of people don’t know, then it’s not fun cause I’m just by myself,” Beller said. “I want people to be as excited as I am for the songs.” 

Everyone has a go-to karaoke song that they know they can rely on no matter what. It seems that many students use the open stage to feel empowered, as if they’re on top of the world. Mollin’s go-to karaoke song is Bodak Yellow by Cardi B. 

“I feel like a badass when I sing it,” Mollin said. “It makes me feel powerful.” 

Decormis draws a similar feeling from her go-to karaoke song. 

“I really like Tusa [by Karol G],” Decormis said. “It’s one of the few reggaeton songs that empowers women and is not sexualizing [….] Girl power, you know?”

Not only does Decormis enjoy the rush of confidence she gets while performing Tusa, she also loves that it brings her back to fond memories. 

“It reminds me of the time right before quarantine and of 12th grade and all my friends,” Decormis reminisced.

Music has always had the power to transport people elsewhere, but the energizing and judgement-free atmosphere of the karaoke room allows for a unique form of escapism. 

In Quebec, karaoke bars unfortunately have been closed since September 2020, since they had been a source of COVID-19 case spikes. Financially, it was a tough year for many karaoke bar owners. Now that they’re reopening, the karaoke scene in Montreal looks forward to a resurgence. 

Mollin is already making plans after being away from the karaoke scene for a while. Since pandemic restrictions kept many first-year students away from nightlife experiences last year, Mollin looks forward to embracing her adulthood through karaoke.

“I hope to go [to a karaoke bar] with my roommates.” Mollin said. “I used to go to karaoke bars with my family a lot. But it’ll be different this time because I feel more like an adult, and I’m doing it with my friends, and I can drink too. I feel like I’ve grown up.”

Decormis and Beller checked out a karaoke location last weekend, and are excited to return now that COVID-19 restrictions in the venues have eased. 

“I’m definitely planning on going again. Especially now that you can dance,” Beller said.

Music has the magical power of bringing people together, and karaoke demonstrates that perfectly. The karaoke stage is a special one: All judgments melt away, and people can play a role for as long as their favourite song lasts.

Sports

Exposing the history of streaking in sports

by Adam Burton on

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Streaking, despite its taboo status, is a popular idea in our collective cultural memory. It’s a common high school and college movie trope to force the loser of a bet to “streak across the quad” or “do a naked lap.” This idea, however, didn’t come from nowhere: The art of stripping down to nothing and dashing as fast as you can has been around for decades.

The true origin of streaking in sports is hotly contested—a cursory glance at online sources will uncover nothing but conflicting accounts. The Guardian cites Michael O’Brien’s sprint across England v. France rugby match at Twickenham for a meagre payout of 10 pounds as the first of several streaking incidents that would plague sports in the years to come. Others, however, cite the University of Georgia as the patient zero of the streaking fad, with several streaking incidents, including a 1,500-person naked dash through campus in the spring of 1974, with some students even parachuting in the nude from above.

Some have even stipulated that streaking’s roots trace back to the 18th century, with reports of Founding Father John Adams’ son running amok across the Harvard Campus without his clothes on.

No matter where streaking claims its roots, it’s undeniable that a golden age of streaking emerged in the ‘70s. Streaking swept college campuses across both the North American and international stage, with sports fans taking to the field in the buff like never before. Streakers would sometimes interrupt gameplay several times a match, and players often felt a need to retaliate. This was the case in a 1977 match between New Zealand and Australia which featured three streakers, the third of whom was promptly spanked with a cricket bat by Australian cricketer Greg Chappell.

Streaking incidents like this haven’t died down—in fact, they’ve only grown more popular. Mark Roberts embodies this reality perfectly: As the self-proclaimed “world’s most prolific streaker,” Roberts has streaked at over five hundred events and has even been paid to streak at high profile events like Super Bowl XXXVIII, where he was ultimately bowled over by Patriots’ linebacker Matt Chatham.

Streaking is a logistical feat. Not only do you need to purchase front row seats to an event, but once you arrive, you need to figure out how to derobe quickly and get on the field before security notices you. After that, you need to run as fast as you can to avoid both security and players with the goal of staying on the field as long as possible—and getting away unscathed. Despite these challenges, people continue to seek out streaking in great numbers, leaving many asking, “Why?”

Are streakers seeking out fame? Are they adrenaline junkies? Or are they just sexual thrill-seekers? While it’s hard to attribute any single motivation to the whole of streaking subculture, Mark Roberts provided some insight in a 2015 interview with The Guardian, explaining that streaking was addictive from the very start.

 “It was just infectious. It was the adrenaline I got from that first day. I went crazy [….] I quickly realized that people really enjoyed watching me do this—this crazy mad streaking.”

The rush acquired from pulling off a stunt like this is certainly motivation for some to streak, the cost of interrupting a game and exposing yourself to thousands of spectators is clearly not deterrent enough.

While it’s hard to say why streaking has gripped sports the way it has, it’s probably here to stay—as long as it’s possible to get past security.

Creative

A Sound Walk Around McGill Campus

by Farah Elmajdoub on

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Multimedia Editor Farah Elmajdoub takes you on a sound walk throughout McGill campus starting from the Roddick Gates. As you tune in to this podcast, keep your awareness alert to what may unfold during your walk.

Features

Coping by cat spotting

by Jackie Lee on

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Picture a circus tiger. Beholden to the cruel whims of circumstance, ensnared in a system that renders its life to nothing more than spectacle, it prowls the perimeter of its cramped cage with Sisyphean contempt. Here is a tortured—though cool as hell—soul. But Jackie, you say, you’re a university student with a delicate emotional constitution. How could you possibly relate? 

Enter the pandemic. I am a nervous person by nature, a quality that the COVID-19 circus only exacerbated. My daily state-sanctioned walk was a source of catharsis (I’m outside!) but also stress (I’m outside…). Each day, like an echo of the proverbial tiger, I traced the same six square blocks of my neighbourhood, nebulously discontent but nonetheless grateful to escape the blue glow of my laptop screen. 

Amid this deluge of screen time, my first fully online semester was a study in staying afloat. Tides of academic commitment swallowed my free time, and my work day often bloated into the evening, and then night. Usually, I had to delegate my walks to the wee hours of the night in effort to focus on class and avoid people in the day. 

Of course, walking in the dark brings its own flavour of anxiety—I’m no stranger to the classic image of a woman alone at night, house keys fisted like claws. I was, and still am, prone to paranoia. Anything from a mysterious slam to a literal toaster can prompt an adrenal response out of me. For this reason, I couldn’t wander alone, even though I knew logically I’d be fine. Two of my roommates went to bed at a reasonable hour, but the third, Josie, was a fellow night owl like me. We buddy-systemed our way into a routine: Stumble through Zoom class in the day, wade through the afternoon in a depressed nap, before eventually stalking the streets in feline parody around 1 a.m. 

I remember that it rained during our first midnight excursion, damp soil blooming under the drizzle, street lamps casting the puddles into oily orange on the concrete. Josie and I trekked out regardless. Here’s another fact about me: I distract easily. While the night was more peaceful than nerve-wracking when we were together, my mind still jumped around, electric with the day’s energy. We reached a small park that bordered an apartment complex. As the rain slowed, we used our hands to deposit snails from the gravel path into the garden, when something shifted at the clamber of our footsteps. Five cats streaked out of the bushes, leaping through the garden like spooked antelopes before disappearing down the block. A beat passed. I still had snails in each hand. Buoyed by the bizarre encounter—and an unhealthy dose of sleep deprivation—we laughed. I declared that since I had spotted the cats first, I was the winner. What I had won, I didn’t know. But the concept rooted into our shared vernacular, inoculated into our speech like all good inside jokes. We appointed the site “Cat Park,” and the act of spotting cats was given a name: Well, cat spotting.  

The next day Josie and I relayed our adventure to our other roommates, and the competition began. One point for an indoor cat spotted through the window. Two points for an outdoor cat on ground level; three points for one on a balcony. A staggering six points for every cat on a leash. Photographic evidence was preferred. We operated on an honour system, as with all our other roommate-sanctioned processes. On a large sticky note pinned to the fridge four names were scrawled, aligned in equally spaced lanes like horses readied behind the gate of a racetrack. We jockeyed for points, the tally marks gradually congregating into inked clusters that advanced across our score paper as time galloped on. 

As we navigated communal life with each other in our stamp-sized apartment, cat spotting became an outlet: An excuse to walk with friends, to delight in grainy photos around our kitchen table. Venturing outside during the day was now a novelty, since I could channel any nervous energy into a careful swivel of the head, hoping to catch a flash of fur in my peripheral vision. This was a pacifist sort of hunt in which a photo was the ultimate trophy—a fulfilling yet harmless coping mechanism during the semester’s growing pains.

Hockey, Martlets, Sports

Martlet hockey snags a narrow win over UdeM, remaining undefeated

by Sophia Gorbounov on

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On Nov. 14, the McGill women’s hockey team (6–0) played the Université de Montréal Carabins (1–2–1) in a suspenseful game of twists, turns, and occasional tussles. With a team composed of both rookies and veterans, the Martlets persevered into overtime despite an early goal by their opponents, ultimately emerging victorious with a 2-1 score. 

The game began with a rush of adrenaline. Within the first 15 seconds, the Martlets narrowly missed a goal, and instead turned the puck over to the Carabins, who scored a few seconds later. 

Throughout the first half of the game, the Martlets were strong on defence, successfully blocking nearly all shots on goal. However, they struggled to move the puck past the Carabins’ impenetrable defence and talented goalie, Aube Racine. The Carabins exercised more control over their passes, while the Martlets frequently lost possession.

Despite a slow start, the Martlets came into their own in the third period. Fifth-year team captain Jade Downie-Landry said she noticed the same shift. 

“I think we did a really good job at pushing the pace, especially in the third period,” Downie-Landry wrote to The McGill Tribune. “We were down by a goal but we simplified the game and got pucks to the net.”

The team’s strategy paid off. Halfway through the third period, Downie-Landry evened the score during a power play, with assists from forwards Christiana Colizza and Stephanie Desjardins.

Stakes were high in the final period, with the score at 1-1. Both teams saw newfound levels of assertion and aggression, and while overtime was almost certain, Martlets and Carabins alike were gunning for a last-second miracle goal. The Carabins’ offence was strong, but the Martlets’ defence was stronger, and they effectively kept their opponents at bay.

Despite two very close attempts on goal by the Carabins in overtime, the score remained tied and the teams went into a shootout after 20 minutes.

As the shootout began, you could hear a pin drop: Every fan was holding their breath. The first round saw misses for both teams, as did the second round. Finally, Downie-Landry buried her second goal for the team, clinching the win with a 2-1 finish.

After an extended break due to the pandemic, the women’s hockey team now has an exceptional roster with many first-year students. Despite their rookie status, every player on the team is learning and advancing quickly. 

Third-year forward Makenzie McCallum was quick to emphasize that she would not trade her teammates for anyone else. 

“I am proud of how far we have come this season,” said McCallum. “There are a lot of first-year players, [so] we had a lot of growing to do. We’re a young team with a lot of new players but our progress as a team has been amazing to watch and I can’t wait to see what else we’re capable of.”

Desjardins has high hopes for the season, noting how excited she is to see how the team will develop.

“Obviously, it is only the start of the season and we have a long way to go,” Desjardins said. “But so far, we are playing well. The girls are eager to learn, the energy is high, and that is what we need right now.”

The Martlets play their next game on Nov. 19 against the Concordia Stingers.

Moment of the game: After a two-period dry spell for the Martlets, Downie-Landry scored her first goal of the game, sending the team and crowd into an excited frenzy.

Quote: “I’m looking forward to each and every game I get to play with these girls. We have a great group and it makes coming to the rink the best part of my day.” – Third-year forward Makenzie McCallum

Stat Corner: The Martlets have won their last three games against the Carabins and have only lost one of their last 10 games against Montreal.

Science & Technology

In conversation with Dr. Sarkis Meterissan

by Namrata Rana on

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On average, 76 women in Canada are diagnosed with breast cancer every day. October continues to be an important month for raising awareness and funds to support research and women battling breast cancer across the country.  Dr. Sarkis Meterissan, surgical oncologist and director of the MUHC Breast Clinic, is one such supporter. He completed a pledge to dye his hair pink and shave his head in honour of his patients, after raising over $300,000 for the Breast Cancer Wellness program at the McGill University Health Centre (MUHC). 

“We do a good job medically when treating breast cancers using chemotherapies, but the healing side is often neglected,”  Meterissan said in an interview with The McGill Tribune. “Money raised by this campaign will help restore a patient’s quality of life for free by providing access to sex therapists, nutritionists, and other psychological resources.” 

A study on the mental health of breast cancer survivors who opted to remove cancerous breast tissue through a procedure known as a mastectomy found that these women are more likely to develop depression than women in the general population. In contrast to women with no prior cancer, breast cancer survivors are at a higher risk of anxiety, sleep problems, sexual dysfunction, fatigue, and pain. The psychosocial impact of mastectomies can also lead to low body esteem, including accepting negative social attitudes and internalizing a destructive understanding of one’s body. Not only do women face these challenges post-operation, but they have to make difficult choices when it comes to treatment options, such as deciding between a mastectomy or conserving breast tissue through reconstruction. In fact, it has been reported that fewer than one in five Canadian women undergo reconstruction. 

“Women have taught me to not assume that all women want breast reconstruction after surgery, others are happy with their decision [to not undergo reconstruction] and continue to celebrate their scars,” Meterissan said.

Many patients develop a close bond with their oncologists, as people diagnosed with cancer often spend several years in treatment. A cancer diagnosis, depending on the severity, can be life-altering: It triggers feelings of loss, uncertainty about the future, and a constant need for emotional support. Patients often turn to their caretakers for both medical and mental support, and oncologists often play a vital role in minimizing their patients’ distress. 

“You have multiple experiences from operating, [like] the follow-up and simply getting to know the families over time,” Meterissan said. “I learn from my patients each day. One of the biggest lessons I have learned in my career is to not [project] your values and feelings of success or defeat onto the patient.” 

Meterissan explained the challenges oncologists face in cases of remission, sharing a story of one cancer patient who faced remission within a few months of a tumour removal surgery. After having operated on the patient and successfully excising the tumour, the patient’s cancer returned within a few months, resulting in his passing within the year. When gifted a beautiful photograph of a wild monarch butterfly by the patient’s wife, Meterissan realized that even though his patient’s time was short,  he nevertheless made the most of those last few months: The patient attended his son’s wedding, spent time with his loved ones, and captured another summer through the lens of his camera. 

“While it initially felt like a failure to me, it is important to recognize what patients value,” Meterissan said. “For this man, it was the gift of time. Similarly, the myriad of resources we can fund with this fundraiser will give future patients the strength to rebuild their lives. ” 

Commentary, Opinion

Putting a pin in unexamined patriotism

by Sepideh Afshar on

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November 11, Remembrance Day, has a longstanding legacy of honouring veterans and their sacrifice made during wartime. Many students who grew up in North America are well acquainted with the tradition of wearing a red poppy to pay their respects both to veterans and soldiers who lost their lives during war. Remembrance day seems to be losing popularity, however: Those who forwent the flower outnumbered those who bore it, and even McGill did not make a notable effort to distribute the pin. The Royal Canadian Legion’s refusal to budge on the original conception of the poppy is pushing more people away from this traditional act of remembrance. It appears that the red poppy has increasingly become a symbol of patriotism that is removed from attempts at learning the lessons of war.  

While John McCrae’s “In Flanders Fields” inextricably links the poppy and World War I, the poem’s meaning and use has been extended to World War II over time. The omission of armed battles pre-World War I from Remembrance Days’ scope allows Canada to paint itself as a defender of good—a dangerous and uninformed view of a country whose history is rooted in the violent massacres of Indigenous populations. Many Indigenous communities across Canada lack access to potable water, and pipelines continue to be built on stolen land, putting their livelihoods at risk. Considering Canada’s ongoing colonial legacy and the patriotism associated with Remembrance Day, some people refuse to wear the poppy. Though soldiers should be remembered, especially women and racialized people whose contributions are overlooked, the war should not be glorified. The argument that Canadians should be thankful to these soldiers for Canada’s current political and social standing is a deeply flawed one. Remembrance Day cannot exist in a vacuum that disregards all contextual information about Canada’s colonial history. 

In an effort to dispel the glorification of war, white poppies are gaining traction. The pins were made to honour veterans while taking an anti-war stance. They also emphasize the importance of remembering the casualties on all sides of wars—who represent 90 per cent of all conflict victims—as well as people who were killed or imprisoned for refusing to fight. The white poppy is not necessarily meant to replace the original, but to offer different choices to folks who feel that the red poppy does not encompass their views. After all, being anti-war and socially conscious is not mutually exclusive from having respect for veterans. 

Fundamentally, the meaning and execution of Remembrance Day has changed with time, and the updates are not to everyone’s liking. For example, red poppies used to be made by disabled veterans through workshops hosted by Veterans Affairs Canada, but since 1996, the production moved to a private company. 

A key stakeholder in upholding the current—and flawed—cultural understanding of Remembrance Day is The Royal Canadian Legion. The Legion has a monopoly over poppy distribution as well as a trademark on the symbol itself, no matter the colour of the poppy. The Legion’s condemnation of all other poppies other than the traditional red  went so far as to call the white poppy an insult to veterans, and threatened legal action against its distributors. This rejection of alternatives wastes resources that otherwise might be alloted to support veterans themselves, and is a mistake that only further alienates Canadians from Remembrance Day. 


Finally, Remembrance Day 2021 has been an especially hard one to celebrate because the COVID-19 pandemic has been of great detriment to many veterans. The uncertainty of the pandemic has bred increased rates of anxiety and depression, while the systems in place for supporting them have also been compromised. Disabled veterans struggled to apply for federal support because it was difficult to see doctors, while wait times to receive this help have increased because of a backlog of claims. Isolation is especially risky for veterans whose experiences have left many with psychological struggles such as Post Traumatic Stress Disorder. While symbolic shows of support can be significant, this year especially, veterans need more than that.

From the BrainSTEM, Science & Technology

Going nuclear: The future of sustainable energy

by Jackie Lee, Madison McLauchlan on

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As the 2021 United Nations Climate Change Conference (COP26) drew to a close on Nov. 13, questions about the future of climate initiatives saturated international discourse. One thing is certain: To mitigate the worst effects of climate change, the world must halt its use of fossil fuels as soon as possible. But where does nuclear power, an industry characterized by its fraught history, fit into this equation? 

Modern society and the global supply chains that sustain it are inextricably linked to fossil fuels, as they provide over 84 per cent of the world’s energy. While a cold-turkey shift to renewables has been politically unfeasible, nuclear power offers an alternative that could facilitate the transition away from fossil fuels toward more sustainable energy sources.

Nuclear power comes with its own slew of challenges, as exemplified in accidents at the Chernobyl and Fukushima facilities. The lasting impact of these disasters has painted nuclear power as being doomed to induce catastrophe—but this ignores the larger picture. It is important to realize that the slow violence of fossil fuel emissions far outweighs the hypothetical fallout of isolated nuclear disasters. Indeed, the fear of apocalyptic nuclear meltdowns is overblown in the public consciousness, especially since the aforementioned disasters were a result of human incompetence, born from prioritizing profit over safety, not technological inevitability. 

The crux of the nuclear power debate rests on the public understanding of the incongruence between the long term consequences of fossil fuels and the necessity of immediate climate solutions. Concern about nuclear waste contaminating communities is lessened when put into the context of worsening fossil fuel pollution. Does an imagined nuclear disaster outweigh the benefits of a carbon-free, consistent energy source? According to Dominic Ryan, a professor in the Department of Physics at McGill, the answer is no: The main barriers to implementing nuclear energy are social, not scientific.

“It’s not a technical or safety issue. It is a political and sociological issue,” Ryan said. “Technically, it can be done. It has been done with decades of experience under the reactors running without any problems.”

Public perceptions of radiation are riddled with misconceptions, Ryan argued. For example, many people are exposed to higher doses of radiation than they might think, through life-saving medical treatments or diagnostics such as radiotherapy or CT scans. Ironically, the stringent restrictions placed on radiation from nuclear plants are not applied to the fossil fuel industry. 

“There are more radiation emissions from a coal plant than there are allowed from a nuclear plant,” Ryan said, noting that radiation from coal is magnified tenfold when burned into fly ash, which then is dispersed into ecosystems and the atmosphere. 

Inside a nuclear reactor, fuel rods containing uranium pellets are bundled together to form a reactor core. The process of nuclear fission within all of these pellets triggers a chain reaction, producing enough heat to turn the surrounding water into steam, generating electricity. 

The progression in design safety of nuclear reactors is similar to that of aviation, as flying by plane is much safer than it used to be.  

“Nobody is getting on a 1950s aircraft to fly around the world,” Ryan said. “They’ve all been replaced and redesigned and improved, and there’s decade’s worth of cycling through improvements and so on, to make them safer. One of the problems you have with nuclear power is that because it fell out of favour rather hard, people aren’t building new designs and trying out new designs.”  

In an email to The McGill Tribune, Jean Barrette, a professor in the Department of Physics, agreed that advancements in nuclear technology have minimized the risk of human error. 

“One knows today how to build safer and more stable reactors, reactors that are more forgiving in case of errors in operation,” Barrette wrote. “Reactors with reactive feedback will have a tendency to turn itself off in the case of misoperation.”

Nuclear energy is ready to go, but it requires a sea change in both public opinion and the political sphere to be implemented on a scale large enough to make a dent in carbon emissions. 

“[Nuclear scientists] are extremely concerned with safety because one event hurts everybody,” Ryan said. “The nuclear industry is in the same boat. They know that if a reactor goes problematic, every reactor in the world suddenly comes under scrutiny.”

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