Mathematics and computer science are revolutionizing the way new drugs and treatments are tested and implemented. A new paper published in Chaos and written by U4 McGill Physiology and Math major Sofia Alfonso, postdoctoral researcher Adrianne L. Jenner, and Dr. Morgan Craig from the University of Montreal’s department of Math and Statistics, explores new alternatives to the challenges of using quantitative tools.
In the pharmaceutical industry, pre-clinical and clinical trialsare challenging, time-consuming, and costly. Virtual drug trials allow researchers to better understand and treat complex diseases such as cancer, diabetes and depression. Conducted faster than conventional clinical trials, virtual drug trials also allow more efficient and affordable distribution of treatments to the public due to high recruitment rates, better compliance, and lower drop-out rates. The paper presents multiple case studies that test experimental medications using mathematical modelling.
Such studies are considered in silico, as they are conducted by a computer program and do not involve live patients, as an in vivotrial would. These simulations can predict the effect of a medication on virtual patients, leading to important insights about a drug’s efficacy before investing time and money into human subject testing.
Alfonso and Craig say that the pharmaceutical industry is already using in silico models for research and emphasize the need for collaboration between experimentalists and clinicians in order to develop more accurate and effective models.
“In drug development, for example, study of a novel drug delivery device for anti-HIV therapy contributed to its continued development and ongoing clinical trials of similar devices,” Craig wrote in an email to The McGill Tribune.
One case study explored the potential of mathematical modeling in the development of treatments for infectious diseases, such as the Herpes Simplex virus (HSV) or the Human Immunodeficiency Virus (HIV). Based on data of viral shedding collected from real patients, an experimental drug was administered to a virtual patient infected with HSV. Researchers then optimized the drug’s dose for clinical trials, paving the way for future studies of similar drugs for the antiviral treatment of HIV and HSV.
“A big challenge is finding adequate parameters in the literature such that the model can be accurately calibrated,” Alfonso wrote in an email to the Tribune, referring to the need for data from clinicians to construct accurate models. “Thus, collaborative efforts that bridge quantitative approaches with experimental work can be integral to developing useful models.”
The researchers are optimistic about the potential of virtual trials in the development of treatments more quickly and less invasively during public health crises such as COVID-19. Transitioning to remote trials could limit the risks of in-person contact, especially in medical settings.
“Currently, we have been working with an interdisciplinary team on modelling COVID-19 in virtual patients, allowing us to simulate the mechanisms resulting in severe SARS-CoV-2 infection,” Alfonso wrote. “I am hopeful that as we gain more data, our model will provide further clinically relevant findings.”
Given the importance of quantitative methods in physiology, Alfonso emphasizes the opportunities for future physiology students willing to delve into mathematics, physics, and computer science.
Craig also calls upon physiology students to maintain an open mind on these disciplines, noting that quantitative methods are already being implemented by the industry.
“Many researchers have summer positions for undergraduates that provide hands-on training,” Craig wrote. “In fact, Sofia [Alfonso] started in my lab as a PHGY 461 student and has continued as a research assistant since.”
To most McGill students, the annual return to campus after the winter break usually conjures images of the university’s vibrant activist community. From flyers passed out during the Change The Name campaign to Divest McGill’s weekly demonstrations outside of the Arts building, it was hard to miss the advocacy taking place at McGill. Like with most things students are familiar with, the pandemic has thrown a wrench in these organizations’ ability to raise awareness and promote change in the ways they once would. But this does not mean that their work has stopped—from #TakeJamesMcGillDown, to newer initiatives like Meals for Milton-Parc and Divest McGill’s Metro boycott, students continue to mobilize for a range of causes in spite of the circumstances. Students should make an effort to remain aware of advocacy work in the community and get involved where they can.
For organizations like Divest McGill, which pressures the McGill administration to divest from fossil fuels, remote learning could have meant that there were seemingly fewer ways to hold the university accountable. In this context, the organization’s Metro boycott is a somewhat innovative tactic. The vice-chair of McGill’s Board of Governors, Maryse Bertrand, also sits on the Metro grocery store chain’s Board of Directors and, according to Divest, holds a $120,000 annual retainer. The idea is to “follow the money,” threatening Bertrand’s financial interests and pushing her to change her position on divesting from fossil fuels. According to Divest McGill, the continued lack of action on the administration’s part means that it is past time for using moral arguments to make their case. It is once again telling of McGill’s priorities that a movement as popular as Divest McGill must resort to an indirect boycott in the face of the administration’s continued negligence.
The tactic may not be perfect—boycotts can be limited in their effectiveness and fail to take into consideration that their demands can only be fulfilled by those who are privileged enough to be able to grocery shop elsewhere. Additionally, adapting individual lifestyle habits in order to participate in a boycott during a pandemic is not always an accessible option. However, students who have the option to visit local—and often more affordable—grocers like Segal’s can do so to send a message. The initiative signals a creative shift away from usual tactics like protests and instead harnesses students’ buying power. Many can easily participate on their own time without physically gathering with others and risking their safety to demonstrate.
However, student initiatives cannot work without sustained engagement and support. A key part of ensuring the success of pandemic-era organizing is raising awareness, which is often done through social media. Student organizers can look to Meals for Milton-Parc, an initiative launched by McGill students that aims to provide meals and care packages for local unhoused populations, for inspiration. Their social media presence has increased student awareness, funding, and volunteer support. Similarly, the #TakeJamesDown movement had a strong online presence that helped engage people with the cause. Social media is a complicated tool, as relying on awareness alone can risk being performative and inhibit substantive change. But, if wielded correctly, social media can amplify a movement, especially during the pandemic.
Just as organizations must diversify their tactics, student supporters must make an effort to seek out ongoing initiatives to get involved with and share with their communities. While student movements, and even certain issues themselves, can seem less pressing amidst a universally difficult and emotionally taxing period of our lives, these campaigns need sustained support and resources. McGill and government administrations should not use the current crisis as an excuse to sweep the needs of their students and citizens under the rug.
On Jan. 6, Quebec Premier Francois Legault announced that an 8 p.m. to 5 a.m. curfew would be in effect from Jan. 9 until at least Feb. 8. When asked about exemptions for unsheltered Quebecers, Legault falsely claimed that there is enough room for the unhoused in Montreal’s shelter infrastructure, leaving community organizations to fill in the gaps. While the response to Legault’s statement has rightfully been critical, it is disheartening to see many well-intentioned volunteers wondering how to help, and coming up blank.
This paralysis speaks to a troubling trend in citizen engagement on the question of supporting unhoused populations: That of always being in emergency aid mode. Certainly, the spike in the number of unsheltered people due to the pandemic has introduced a new need to put out fires, but as citizens focus on issues ranging from food insecurity, to the lack of public toilets, to the need for larger shelters, creative solutions to relieve pressure on the shelter system are not receiving the attention they deserve. As the valuable time and financial resources of volunteers flood in, immediate suffering is addressed. At a certain point, however, the short-sighted distribution of these resources can frustrate efforts instead of helping them. When new emergencies come up, such as COVID-19 outbreaks or curfew measures, shelters need to focus on expanding their basic offerings to accommodate new unhoused populations. Volunteers, however, have the luxury of pausing to consider where they are best suited to help, and would do well to use this time responsibly.
Our inability to move past reactionary campaigning leads to an increasingly fragile service infrastructure. As the unsheltered population continues to grow, offering immediate-aid solutions alone will continue to create a rabbit hole demanding further marshalling of resources. Instead of pouring everything we have into meal handouts, volunteers should support a diversity of tactics that have been long promoted by perennially active advocates. Shelters and other community organizations do sometimes find themselves not in emergency mode, which is surprising givenchronicunderfunding from Quebec’s Ministry of Health and Social Services. In these situations, leaders have focussed on ambitious housingsolutions, funding envelopes, and decolonizing the field to address the fragile state of intervention for the unsheltered.
During the pandemic, students and other Montrealers have come out in impressive numbers to fill in crucial gaps, notably through the provision of food on the weekends. Some have started to ask important questions about the role of shelters, showing up to support the Notre Dame campers who refused shelter solutions they critiqued as paternalistic and unsafe even as they were evicted by a demonstrably racist police force. A McGill original, Meals for Milton-Parc, has undertaken an ambitious program of distributing resources such as food, clothing, and menstrual hygiene products to the Inuit community on Milton and Parc as well as the First Nations individuals on the corner of Saint-Urbain and Sherbrooke. However, students newly looking to get involved may be much more effective agents of change by pressuring Quebec’s Ministry of Municipal Affairs and Housing and the Ministry of Health and Social Services—neitherof which have acted quickly enough to set up supported social housing. Emphatically, having every well-intentioned citizen handing out meals alone is not an effective way to show up for the unsheltered.
Activists would do well to heed trans activist, writer, and law professor Dean Spade’s warning in his 2020 essay, “Solidarity Not Charity,” in which he argues that activists must avoid self-congratulation and paternalism. Social justice can only be achieved by recognizing people’s dignity to direct their own path to improvement, and offering resources as a hand up, not a hand out. We should not assume people will be staying on the street forever and simply give them the socks, shelter beds, and granola bars they need to get through the day. Non-profits and engaged citizens alike must ask themselves where the line is between actually helping and simply using resources to pay salaries and feel good.
On Aug. 4, the Atlanta Dream walked onto the court for their first nationally televised WNBA game of the 2020 season. Their warmup shirts displayed a simple, yet clear, message.
“Vote Warnock.”
Five months later, on Jan. 5, Reverend Raphael Warnock (D-GA) defeated incumbent and co-owner of the Atlanta Dream, Kelly Loeffler (R-GA) in the Georgia Senate runoff election, securing a seat in the United States Senate. Warnock is Georgia’s first Black senator, and his victory was vital in helping the Democratic Party gain control of the Senate.
The path to the Aug. 4 endorsement from the Atlanta Dream began last summer.
“Our team, along with the whole league, had decided to make a statement during the George Floyd protests by wearing Black Lives Matter shirts honoring Breonna Taylor, the 26-year-old Black woman killed by police this summer in Louisville, and other Black women killed by the police,” Atlanta Dream forward, Elizabeth Williams, wrote in a personal essay for Vox.
This initial stand in support of the Black Lives Matter movement drew criticism from team co-owner Loeffler.
“This prompted our co-owner, who was appointed as Georgia senator after the previous senator resigned, to make a statement about us. She said she opposed Black Lives Matter and that we need less, not more, politics in sports,” Williams wrote.
Prior to the start of the season, Williams and the rest of the Atlanta Dream had the chance to speak to Reverend Warnock, who was planning to challenge Kelly Loeffler. Shortly after, they woreshirts endorsing him at their first nationally televised game.
This trailblazing decision was no surprise to those who follow the WNBA. Players within the organization have been arguably the most vocal on social justice issues compared to other professional sports leagues in the United States.
“WNBA players have been at the forefront of social justice movements in sports in recent years,” Sean Gregory wrotefor Time Magazine. “Players were among the first, in 2016, to wear Black Lives Matter warmup shirts before games after several incidents of police violence.”
These efforts, alongside the rest of the WNBA, were crucial to Warnock’s eventual victory, according to Angele Delevoye, a PhD candidate in political science and quantitative methods at Yale University.
“The WNBA helped generate momentum,” Delevoye said. “The WNBA has a long history of activism [….] The players were ready for this moment.”
The results of the runoff election were the culmination of years of hard work in Georgia—a state that has voted staunchly Republican for over two decades. Stacey Abrams, a prominent Georgia Democrat, and former House Minority Leader for the Georgia General Assembly, was one of the few who believed that her state could flip to Democrat leadership, despite her eventual loss to Brian Kemp in the 2018 Georgia gubernatorial race.
Abrams herself met with the Dream in 2018, with hopes of a Democratic future in Georgia.
“Had a great time supporting @AtlantaDream and meeting voters last night! Although we fell short, I have a feeling that 2019 will be a new age for the Dream—and for our state,” Abrams tweeted.
Two years later, the work of Abrams, the Dream, and organizers across Georgia led to the historical election of Senator Raphael Warnock and a blue shift in Georgia for the first time in nearly 30 years.
The southern parts of the United States have been a stronghold for Republicans since the so-called “Southern strategy” began in the 1960s. Four years ago, Georgians voted for President Trump, a Republican, by five percentage points.
In 2020, Georgia voted for Democrat Joe Biden for president and Democrat Raphael Warnock to be one of their next senators.
There is something to be said about the effectiveness of the organizing work done in Georgia, whether it be by WNBA players, politicians who lost their races like Stacey Abrams, or people who care about their state.
Kelly Loeffler underestimated her team and the rest of Georgia. Ironically, her purchase of the Atlanta Dream was integral to her dream of remaining a United States senator. However, that dream soon turned into a nightmare.
Never underestimate the power of the people when they work as a collective.
2020 will go down in the history books as the epitome of a bad year, characterized by a pandemic that has exposed the cracks in our healthcare system and other public institutions. In just 12 months, the lives, livelihoods, and well-being of people worldwide were drastically altered by the COVID-19 pandemic, leaving plans and resolutions unexecuted, and creating an overarching eagerness to label everything associated with 2020 a complete write-off. While the transition to a new year provides a much-needed sense of optimism to those who faced unexpected difficulties and traumas in 2020, it would be a mistake to disregard all of the racial and socioeconomic problems in Quebec exposed by the pandemic over the past 365 days as mere byproducts of a difficult year.
It is important for students to cut themselves slack when it comes to their personal and academic shortcomings of 2020. Still, lumping Quebec’s broader societal issues underlying the pandemic’s disproportionate effects across the province’s minority populations together with a “worst year ever” mindset, undermines both the progress that was made to address these issues in 2020 and the ongoing need to establish long-term, systemic solutions to avoid similar health and social crises in the future. Students should embrace the new year as a chance to leave behind personal challenges from 2020, but they must not abandon the progressive societal momentum that the year generated.
The onset of the pandemic presented everyone with numerous challenges. From abiding by social distancing and lockdown measures to transitioning to daily Zoom-meeting sweatpants and suit jackets, 2020 forced us to adjust not only how we interact with one another but also where we allocate our time and energy. For students, this task was particularly daunting: Shifting to a remote learning environment while dealing with stressful matters like renewing student visas, living in isolation, and losing loved ones left many feeling unmotivated and unsupported both personally and academically. McGill claimed to prioritize student health and well-being even as the pandemic led to significant changes during the 2020 school year. That students were left to demand extensions to the S/U option and the 2020 winter break, however, reveals the McGill administration’s reluctance to recognize and address students’ stress and exhaustion the pandemic has induced.
With the emergence of vaccines suggesting an eventual return to normal life and learning environments, it is no surprise that many are adopting an optimistic outlook heading into 2021. This new year mindset, however, which justifiably encourages students to attribute their disappointing academic performances and worsening mental health to the environmental factors that made 2020 so challenging, should not extend to the systemic issues that the pandemic exposed. High mortality rates among BIPOC communities, unequal access to healthcare services and outdoor spaces in low-income neighbourhoods, and the lack of supportive, affordable child and senior care which seemed to characterize 2020, are attributable to longstanding flaws in our government and public institutions. In the same way, the fight to implement institutional changes that address these issues must persist even as the 2020 calendars are replaced. Although 2020 forced students to finally acknowledge the calls for systemic change that some have allowed themselves to ignore, we must recognize that these issues were prevalent long before 2020. This recognition should fuel a continuous drive to address them even as we enter the year in hopes of returning to some semblance of normality.
The 2020 pandemic did not cause the systemic injustices it exposed, and narrowing our focus to the 2021 Times Square ball drop does a disservice to those who finally brought these issues to the attention of a world that is too distracted to care under normal circumstances. While embracing the concept of “Building Back Better” on a personal level can mean trying to leave the academic and emotional struggles of 2020 behind for some, it must also come with an active commitment to ensuring that social, political, and institutional spotlights and advocacy efforts remain fixed on Quebec’s gaping inequalities, even if it takes years to see true change.
Brian Joseph Schuh of Motyka hopes his new album, By Keeping Spring, will get listeners used to the unexpected. The album, available Jan. 22, fluidly strings together songs ranging from electronic to folk pop in a way that allows listeners to go along without thinking about its eclectic nature.
“I don’t really think of myself as any particular kind of artist. I just follow where I want the vibe to go and pieces organically come together,” Schuh said in an interview with the Tribune. “For me, every album is kind of case-by-case, not so much thinking of myself as any type of artist, where this is gonna be my ‘blank’ album. I just fill in the gaps as I go along.”
Schuh has been making music seriously since high school. He taught himself the ropes of music production on audio workstations where he experimented with samples he found on the internet, and eventually started to produce his own music. While he was at the Crane School of Music at the State University of New York (SUNY) at Potsdam, Schuh worked on projects under several different monikers, eventually settling on Motyka after graduation.
“The name Motyka is actually my mother’s maiden name,” Schuh said. “I come from a pretty musical family, and I wanted to honour them by using that name in association with my music.”
Although Schuh writes and produces music under the name Motyka, he rarely does it on his own. Since starting the project toward the end of college, he has collaborated with friends and fellow musicians on every step of the production process. Collaboration offers Schuh the ability to incorporate specific styles and instruments he would not otherwise be able to execute himself. Part of the production process for Schuh includes improvising with friends over short tracks he has created. By Keeping Spring is full of improvised sessions featuring a number of musicians, particularly due to the interesting production method Schuh followed.
“I wrote a poem during quarantine and that poem became the track list for the album,” Schuh said. “The seven tracks on the album come from seven lines of the poem. [To compose the album], I just started at the beginning and I did the first song by finding some samples [….] From there, I just did the next song, and it unfolded pretty linearly.”
Schuh explains that improvisation is one of the ways he makes his music more organic and human, and that those elements also help to make the combination of musical genres cohesive. His philosophy is simple: The hook is the key. Focussing on the hook of the song, the part of the song that resonates with listeners and keeps them coming back for more, is the best way to bridge the gap between dissonant genres on a single album. The eponymous track, “By Keeping Spring,” ends its nebulous electronic run with a brief pause, followed by the unmistakable graininess of a record player. Transitioning into the throwback tones of “We Take The Air,” Motyka shifts easily between the sounds of the past and present. The vibe throughout the album is nostalgic, written during the beginning of lockdown when life was full of uncertainty. It is highly emotive, and its unique flow reflects the untamable and often undefinable emotions we all experienced at that time and continue to feel to this day.
By Keeping Springwill be available on all streaming platforms on January 22. “Draw,” “What Separates Us,” and “The Water” are available as singles.
Nearly two and a half years after the release of his debut studio album Die Lit, Playboi Carti dropped his long-awaited sophomore follow-up, Whole Lotta Red, on Dec. 25, 2020. When I tore into the record like a present under the proverbial Christmas tree, I soon came to realize that Whole Lotta Redis Carti’s most unique corpus of work to date. However, Whole Lotta Red’s originality is simultaneously its most enticing feature and its ultimate failure.
The project’s production is unlike any of Carti’s previous projects. Die Litand his self-titled mixtapeboth relied heavily on producer Pierre Bourne’s repetitive, psychedelic beats. With Whole Lotta Red, Carti experiments with new sounds and draws upon a broader range of producers, including Art Dealer, Richie Souf, F1lthy, and even Kanye West. The album’s new sounds are distorted, abrasive, and aggressive, especially on tracks such as “New Tank” or “Stop Breathing.” This is not to say that Carti has completely turned a new leaf; “Place” and “ILoveUIHateU” feature Borne’s hypnotic, synth-heavy production and remain absolute bangers.
Along with the beats, Carti experiments with new vocal styles, ranges, and deliveries—their success, however, is hit-or-miss. For example, “JumpOutTheHouse” features Carti repeating the chorus with a disconcerting frequency; the song sounds like a broken record. Carti gets lyrical on “Vamp Anthem” with lines like “.223 gon’ hit ‘em up, he done got hypnotized / I done made a mil’ in a white tee but I ain’t Franchize,” and, to Carti’s credit, it works.
The project’s features—which are far and few between—are fun and diverse. For the most part, Carti plays them to his own strengths. Kanye West’s verse on “Go2DaMoon” shows Kanye at his most deranged and egotistical, making for an excellent guest appearance, but Carti follows Ye with a short and insubstantial verse that leaves much to be desired. Fortunately, Carti more strongly synchronizes with Kid Cudi and Future’s verses on “M3tamorphosis” and “Teen X.”
Whole Lotta Redis an innovative, courageous effort at a new sound, proving that Playboi Carti is not a one-trick pony, nor is his music dependent on the aesthetics of specific producers. The project showcases that Carti has found new strengths, but he hasn’t quite got the hang of them, either.
In interviews with The McGill Tribune, six floor fellows across residences reported that lack of support and communication from McGill’s administration had impaired them from doing their jobs and upholding safety standards in residences during the Fall 2020 semester. All residences have been operating at a lowered capacity due to COVID-19 restrictions, with the exception of the Upper Residences, which closed their doors to students entirely in August.
Floor fellows described the year as off to a rocky start when on July 13, 22 floor fellows’ offers were withdrawn following McGill’s decision not to open the Upper Residences.
“The number of floor fellows who were hired this year reflects the decreased residence occupancy,” McGill media relations officer Frédérique Mazerolle wrote in an email to The McGill Tribune. “This information was communicated to all potential floor fellows in the summer months. Floor fellows who were not offered contracts were offered temporary accommodation at no charge to allow them the needed time to secure alternative accommodations.”
Despite this, floor fellows expressed concern that those whose contracts were terminated were suddenly faced with the loss of anticipated income and scrambling to find housing for the school year. The Association of McGill University Support Employees (AMUSE) has filed grievances against McGill on behalf of the former employees, but a resolution has yet to be reached.
McGill initially decided to close the Upper Residences and the Royal Victoria College (RVC) residence because of their shared bathrooms, but Student Housing and Hospitality Services (SHHS) successively backtracked on their initial plans, deeming RVC safe for 30, then 80, and then 180 students. Throughout this time, floor fellows were not notified by SHHS of the reasons for the closures, reopenings, and increases in capacity in RVC.
This photo from Sept. 26 shows students violating social distancing restrictions on McGill property (Anonymous / The McGill Tribune).
More miscommunication arose when one of the Residence Life Managers (RLM) resigned shortly following the completion of their training. The resignation left a single RLM in charge of all residence buildings, despite the fact that there had been an RLM for every two buildings in previous years. RLMs are responsible for supervising floor fellows, crisis management, and collaborating with SHHS. Although a replacement RLM was soon hired, they resigned days later, leaving one RLM to manage all residences.
The lack of supervision forced floor fellows to take on additional responsibilities, such as compiling lists of students on their floors, without access to resources such as printers. Although a few floor fellows were granted additional compensation for some of these extra duties, the absence of an authority figure resulted in confusion in residences.
One floor fellow described the uncertainty that floor fellows faced upon move-in.
“I really want to make it clear that, in my opinion, [SHHS] walked into an unprepared system,” Julie* said in an interview with the Tribune. “It was a complete free-for-all [….] We had to put in a lot of extra time [to meet] and divide up the students amongst ourselves, and [decide] what the community would look like, which usually does not happen, [because we] usually have a manager.”
In a survey conducted by AMUSE, 80 per cent of floor fellows attested to the difficulties posed by a lack of an authority figure. With many floor fellows forced to assume the responsibilities of an RLM themselves, several expressed that doing so strained their relationships with the students on their floors, for whom they are supposed to act as a support system.
“When we didn’t have an RLM, we had to take up more [of a] policing role of having to discipline students and give out warnings and send emails on behalf of whoever’s running the building to the whole sort of the whole residence community, which [has never] happened before,” another floor fellow, Amy,* said.
As COVID-19 cases in Montreal rose throughout the semester, McGill implemented a “three strikes” policy in residences in October, which mandated that students receive up to three strikes for violating safety policies before facing more severe consequences, such as expulsion from residence. In an email to the Tribune, Sarah Graham, vice-president floor fellow, expressed that the lack of coordination during the policy’s implementation posed safety concerns for those working in residences.
One floor fellow expressed concern that residence cafeterias were not adequately set up to maintain social distancing between students. (Alexandra Allaire / McGill Tribune)
“Staff have reported that there are some first years who have [received written warnings] over eight times and still remain in residences,” Graham wrote. “Not to mention that this whole strike policy puts [floor fellows] in a position where they have to essentially police the people they are intended to support.”
Noa Crébassa, U2 Arts, moved into Solin Hall after struggling to find accommodations due to COVID-19. According to Crébassa, who witnessed other students on her floor violating safety restrictions, stewards often failed to issue official written warnings—which meant such violations went unaddressed.
Meanwhile, as restrictions tightened, students living in residences reported declining mental health and an increasing sense of isolation. Students’ Society of McGill University (SSMU) Vice-President (VP) Student Life Maheen Akter described receiving several emails from parents of students in residences expressing concern about their child’s well-being, and called on both SSMU and the administration to do more to create a sense of community in residences.
On Nov. 2, SHHS sent an email to all floor fellows announcing that every Friday, Saturday, and Sunday, floor fellows would be assigned to walk through their residences to interact with students to build a greater sense of community and ensure that everyone is following the rules. The new duties sparked confusion among many floor fellows given that the resumption of in-person work contradicted Quebec’s recent implementation of increased red zone restrictions. Floor fellows were also not provided with any additional personal protective equipment, beyond the two reusable masks, a face shield, and antiseptic wipes, that they had received in August.
“I had a duty round [earlier in the year] and I had to walk around the building with the night steward, and we broke up [more than five parties] in the span of 9 p.m. to 12 a.m.,” Catharina*, a floor fellow, said in an interview with the Tribune. “There were interactions where I was less than six feet away from folks without masks.”
According to Graham, however, SHHS has failed to acknowledge the possibility of residence workers contracting COVID-19 while on duty, and has not provided alternatives for immunocompromised or at-risk floor fellows.
On Jan. 13, SHHS abolished the three strikes policy, and in its place, implemented a system in which one violation would result in a disciplinary meeting, with further violations resulting in more severe consequences.
Floor fellows and Akter have called on SHHS and Deputy Provost (Student Life and Learning) Fabrice Labeau to increase consultations with floor fellows before implementing new policies.
“There’s a real […] disconnect between what [Labeau] thinks is the best way to move forward and what [is actually] the best thing to do,” Akter said. “The administration doesn’t realize what’s actually happening in residences [and they] don’t have first-hand knowledge. They aren’t seeing […] the reality of these decisions they’re making.”
*All floor fellows names have been changed to preserve anonymity.
It is a truth universally acknowledged that Shonda Rhimes churns out hit TV dramas faster than you can say “Shondaland.” In collaboration with Netflix, Bridgerton is Rhimes’ latest endeavour in cultivating a mass fanbase—already charting as thenumber one Netflix showin 76 countries.
The hit series is set in Regency-era England, detailing the toil and excitement of courtship in the 1800s. Based on Julia Quinn’s book series, Bridgerton revolves largely around the will-they-won’t-theyromantic dynamic of headstrong aristocrat Daphne Bridgerton (Phoebe Dynevor) and the broody Duke of Hastings, Simon Bassett (Rége-Jean Page). The characters engage in every courting activity found in a Jane Austen novel; from chaperoned flirting, to balls, to sexually-charged walks in perfectly manicured gardens. Every scene depicts the utmost dedication to aesthetic and visual detail. In fact, Bridgertoncustom-designed every piece of furniture and drapery. Every feathered hairpiece, every cufflink at the end of a poofy sleeve, every sofa, and every painting is carefully placed and maintained to highlight the show’s intended whimsical tone and the plot’s heightened suspense and romance.
Yet, this dedication to tone and aesthetic veils blatant, unaddressed moments of insensitivity, most notably from the concerning scene in episode six that glosses over an act of sexual assault. Initially believing the Duke to be impotent, Daphne then finds out that her husband has purposefully been, to put it bluntly, “pulling out,” and in fact, can have children. What follows next is arguably the show’s most subtly horrific scene—one that goes unquestioned for the remainder of the series. The next time Daphne and Simon have sex, rather than allowing Simon to end intercourse, Daphne forces him to continue, despite Simon’s obvious discomfort.
This is not the first time that sexual assault against men has been depicted on television, but it is arguably one of the rare occasions in which it goes unmentioned and unlabeled for what it is: Assault. Following this scene, Simon’s anger with Daphne lies in her lack of respect for his desire not to have children, and Daphne’s anger lies in Simon’s deception. Neither brings up the subject of consent or rape. String quartet soundtracks keep playing, flirty dance sequences continue, and Simon and Daphne eventually forgive each other two episodes later as they plan how many public dances they will engage in at the next ball. The drama and whimsy continue, distracting from and belittling a case of blatant sexual assault.
The implications of this scene and its aftermath are disturbing: Bridgerton implies that because Simon lied to Daphne, his assault was justified. Further, the show suggests that this moment of dubious consent did not merit further examination, a decision that surely would have been different had the gender roles been switched. The scene suggests to viewers that because Daphne was wronged, her actions were excusable. Such a thought process erases the notion of consent, and more horrifically, perpetuates the stigma that male-identifying individuals cannot be victims of sexual assault. Despite criticisms of this precarious scene, Bridgerton remains a popular show.
This incident, while significant in the realm of television narrative, also examines the necessity of accuracy in literature-to-screen adaptations. Book series author Julia Quinn originally wrote a version of this scene in the series’ first book, similarly implicating Daphne as a rapist. Bridgerton’s producers arguably toned the scene down, yet this still does not merit the glossing over that occurred in the episode. Rhimes’ Bridgerton capitalizes on audiences’ love of Regency-era romance narratives and the sense of escapism brought on by bright colours, exquisite outfits, and choreographed balls. The show chooses to convey the flounce and frills of the book series, yet its loyalty to the storyline rather than ethics sets a disturbing precedent for both past and modern attitudes toward rape culture.
The McGill Research Group on Health and Law (RGHL) held an interdisciplinary panel on Jan. 13 titled “New or normal? Privacy, Public Health and the Pandemic.” Moderated by Faculty of Law associate professor Lara Khoury, the three panellists, Dr. Anne Andermann, Ignacio Cofone, and Dr. Khaled El Emam, discussed the balance between protecting individuals’ privacy and battling the pandemic through data collection.
The collection of personal data by the Canadian government has increased during the pandemic with the roll out of smartphone applications like Canada’s COVID Alert to trace COVID-19 transmission. Of concern to the personal freedoms side of public health measures are individuals being handed hefty fines for disobeying Quebec’s new 8:00 p.m. to 5:00 a.m. curfew.
Dr. Andermann, a family and public health physician and associate professor in the Department of Family Medicine at McGill, believes that the medical field can better support under-served populations—such as racial minorities, the economically disadvantaged, and the elderly—by continuing to collect data and restrict movement in order to slow the spread of the virus. New findings have shown that COVID-19 is disproportionately affecting Black Canadians and other marginalized groups.
“These freedoms have […] consequences,” Dr. Andermann said. “One of the things about COVID that was clear very early on was that it’s not just a pandemic [….] It’s also a syndemic, meaning that it’s not affecting equally all populations in society.”
Ignacio Cofone, an associate professor in McGill’s Faculty of Law with a background in privacy law, detailed the vast amounts of personal information that COVID-19 contact tracing applications collect. Cofone believes that Canada’s COVID Alert application is among the best for protecting privacy.
“COVID Alert is really the most privacy-sensitive option that the Candian government had available that can still be functional,” Cofone said. “[The app] is Bluetooth and […] stores the data locally.”
Khaled El Emam, a professor at the University of Ottawa Faculty of Medicine and senior investigator at the Children’s Hospital of Eastern Ontario Research Institute, believes that collecting individuals’ health data is necessary, albeit with caution. Dr. El Emam argued that Privacy Enhancing Technologies (PETs) are good measures to protect sensitive personal information while still providing scientists and analysts with strong banks of data to sift through. PETs are what they sound like: A wide range of technologies used to hide or protect individuals’ personal information. Some PETs render data non-identifiable, stripping the requirement of consent which, Dr. El Emam noted, brings with it consent bias.
The use of PETs can also speed up the ethics review process, making data available quicker. According to Dr. El Eman, the risk-based de-identification and data synthesis are two of the most common and effective PETs used for making real-world health data available to public health experts. Despite his faith in these processes, he cautioned that no method is perfect, and that there is always a risk of data being re-identifiable.
“[These PETs] illustrate that we do know how to make real-world data available in a privacy-protecting way,” Dr. El Emam said. “Examples of this are happening in different regions of the world like […] the U.S. and Korea [….] The problem is that the ability to put these data-sharing mechanisms into operation has been quite heterogeneous.”
Dr. El Emam hopes that building a strong infrastructure for health data, with high privacy standards and greater efficiency, would better prepare Canadians for the next public health crisis.
