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Laughing Matters, Opinion

Tips to help recreate the dread of seeing your family over winter break, from home!

Content Warning: Sexual harassment

Every year when December rolls around and finals season ends, McGill students have only one thing in mindwinter break. Sadly, due to COVID-19 restrictions and safety concerns, we know many of you are unable to head home to see your families this year. Fortunately, we have developed a list of tips and tricks to help you simulate the winter break experience from the comfort of your own dorm or apartment.

For starters, whether you’re stuck in residence or a seven-person commune, you can create a festive atmosphere anywhere. We recommend you hang up colourful lights, turn up some Christmas songs, apply makeup to cover your tattoos, remove your piercings, and put on that one degenerate sweater that color-blind Aunt Gladys got you. Remember: Nothing says “Christmas spirit” like silly decorations and the deep, profound dread of disappointing your family!

Homesick and missing conversations with your dad? Go eat dinner, and while you do, have your roommate sit and watch you eat in absolute silence. When you reach for more food, wait for them to raise an eyebrow and ask if you’re sure you want to eat it.

“What are you actually going to do with that major?” is just one of the many fun conversation topics you’ll cover, in addition to, “Isn’t it about time you got a job?” and “Why is everyone TRANSGENDER nowadays?”

Of course, nothing beats the bliss of reading with the gentle sounds of your mom cooking in the background. To recreate the experience, have your early-riser friend get up at 5:00 a.m. and just fucking clang 50 pots in your kitchen! She doesn’t even have to cook, she simply has to clang, bang, and crash that shit like it’s Armageddon and she’s trying to single-handedly beat 382 tin-men to a metallic pool of silver guts with one noisy-ass ladle! After all, she does need to find her favourite bowl. 

And who could forget your lovely siblings. Miss having your sister around? Put up a “thrift shop” sign in your closet! Nostalgic for your brother? Replace the Glade in your bathroom with Axe cologne!

Immediate family is great—but what about extended family? Missing your uncle? Call Steve Who Sold You Weed That One Time! That will remind you of how he is always sure to hug you for just a little too long and a little too low. And no one is more fun to play with than your energetic little cousins! Luckily, Apple has recently created an alarm app that keeps you alert with the sound of three small children screaming and goes off right when you sit down to get work done. It also features cool tracks like 14 hard knocks on your door, the sound of a soccer ball being kicked around an apartment, and the hit single Got Any Games On That?

Everyone likes watching their obviously gay cousin squirm in their seat at the dinner table. Thankfully, if you’re the gay cousin, you can replicate those horribly uncomfortable conversations with the snap of a finger. Call a friend, who can stop by your dorm to help you rehearse your repertoire of lines!

“I’m just focusing on school right now,” “Well, it’s cheaper if it’s one bedroom,” and “Georgia should totally recount the votes!” are among the most popular.

At the end of the day, we know that the holidays are tough without your family around. So hopefully, whenever you feel homesick, you can try out some of our tricks to remind you of the reason you stayed home this year—your family.

Features

Making sense of McGill’s underfunding crisis

 

Students come to McGill for many reasons. For domestic students, it is an affordable, high-ranking, historically anglophone university; for international students, McGill’s prestige is comparable to top schools globally. But many students, especially international and out-of-province first years, are surprised to find that McGill’s services and resources are severely lacking. Most visibly, decrepit buildings bear all of the markings of a university in decline, not a top tier school. Similarly, the Wellness Hub is infamously poorly managed and insufficient. Meanwhile, staff, especially contract workers, are overworked and underpaid. Vastly disproportionate student-to-staff ratios are equally astonishing hallmarks of McGill’s academic austerity.

 

McGill’s world-class reputation seems to belie this dismal underfunding. Although the university does not receive enough government funding to maintain its international standing, it may also be deepening its funding crisis by clinging onto its accolades rather than promoting student welfare.

But McGill has lacked sufficient operational funds since the 1960s, when Quebec modernized its public education system. In an interview with //The McGill Tribune//, Professor Peter F. McNally, director of the History of McGill project, emphasized that the underfunding of universities in Quebec has been a problem for decades

“Higher education in Quebec is generally underfunded,” McNally said. “In other words, all universities in Quebec are not as well funded as they need to be or should be.”

 

This sets Quebec schools apart from similar public university systems in Canada and in the United States, even though they are often compared to them.

 

“In Quebec rhetoric, sometimes analogies are made between [Quebec’s] university system and the University of California university system,” McNally said. “Well, that’s sort of true, it’s sort of not true. The University of California system is significantly better funded.”

According to McNally, understanding the Quebec university system’s current financial predicament is impossible without grasping political developments in the 1960s and ‘70s. During this period, earthquakes of political discord shook the province as the francophone population demanded cultural self-determination. Above all, the Quiet Revolution—a period of rapid social and political change that loosened the Catholic Church’s hold over Quebec—transformed the province’s education system. However, the implementation of Bill 22 and the violence pronounced in the 1970 October Crisis exemplified the language divide that continues to define Quebec, shaping McGill’s place in its public education system as a leading English-language institution.

Science & Technology

Science education cannot exist in a vacuum

Picture this: In the middle of an auditorium filled with students, a professor describes the process of chromosomal segregation. This professor teaches the students about the stages of cell division, the proteins involved, and what happens when chromosomes do not separate properly; a person can have either XX or XY sex chromosomes, the professor explains, or exceptionally, an extra or missing chromosome. 

What students are not taught, however, is the differences between sex and gender—the professor fails to acknowledge that beyond the pages of textbooks, identity is more complex than the makeup of one’s genes. The students in this class would walk away with scientifically accurate information, but an incomplete understanding of sex and gender as well as the social implications of their distinction. 

Such oversights are common in science courses, where lectures are content-heavy and fast-paced, with barely enough time to cover the materials essential for examination. Faced with an overwhelming breadth of scientific material, students miss out on the larger picture of how science overlooks and, in some cases, exacerbates social inequalities. 

At McGill, students in the Faculty of Science are not required to take any courses in ethics or history, nor are they asked to remain up to date on contemporary social justice issues. Many students can complete their degree with no formal instruction on the ways that racism, sexism, transphobia, homophobia, and colonialism continue to manifest in academia. 

Following the precedent of other North American universities, McGill could take concrete steps to incorporate social justice lessons into undergraduate science curricula. At the University of Washington, for example, the faculty offers students an interdisciplinary course titled “Science and Engineering for Social Justice.” With a focus on writing and discussion-based classes, students are taught about the impact of science on diverse populations, inequities in access to scientific information, and how to address implicit bias against marginalized groups. Likewise, the Ontario College of Art & Design University offers students courses in inclusive design for digital media and was one of the first schools in North America to grant a Master’s of Design in Inclusive Design. 

Everything about the scientific process—from who performs it, to what is researched, to the sources of funding—is bound by political and economic interests. Remaining apolitical and glossing over the dark history of scientific discovery only encourages ignorance by denying students a more well-rounded education.

In the spring of 2020, Alanna Watt, associate professor in the Department of Biology, founded the department’s Equality, Diversity, and Inclusivity Committee, one of the first of its kind in a STEM field at McGill. 

“There’s this aspect that we’re not used to teaching about,” Watt said in an interview with The McGill Tribune. “We do have a huge amount of scientific content we’re trying to put in. If you think about genetics courses, there’s a [dark] history in the field that would be [good] for people to understand.” 

Indeed, much of modern genetic theory is based on studies that arose from the eugenics movement, which began in the early 20th century, influenced by the work of Francis Galton. Galton, a prominent scientist who made a name for himself developing statistical tools such as chi-square and regression analysis, did so in the interest of promoting his racist and ableist ideology of maintaining the so-called “purity” of the British population. 

Although the historical background of scientific inquiry must be addressed, Watt believes that modern education runs the risk of distancing these past issues from the current problems in science. 

“For me as a professor, I’ve realized that we have a very diverse student body and it’s very important that we address [social] issues,” Watt said. “It’s like anti-racism. Not doing anything is just not good enough.”

The spectre of racism and sexism in scientific fields is pervasive throughout academic research, publishing, and teaching practices. Critical thinking is a valuable tool in scientific inquiry, but undergraduate courses often fail to foster this skill in social contexts. Studies show that students who are taught about historical oppression are more likely to acknowledge systemic racism and scrutinize their own role in upholding it. Furthermore, relating scientific concepts to social issues can make students more engaged in the material and enhance learning outcomes. 

According to Ehab Abouheif, a professor in the Department of Biology, fostering empathy in students is an essential part of training them to be good scientists. Abouheif teaches Evolution and Society (BIOL 436), one of the only biology courses that specifically tackles social issues. Instead of content-heavy evaluations, the course develops critical thinking skills through discussion and debate. 

“One of the most important things I will do as a scientist is teach Evolution and Society,” Abouheif said in an interview with the Tribune. “[Most] people who come out of this course have gotten the chance to see how evolution interacts with politics, medicine, and society as a whole.”

Unfortunately, science courses that address social issues are rare at McGill. When Abouheif and colleagues proposed the introduction of BIOL 436 10 years ago, they were met with criticism for proposing a course that was perceived to have too much overlap with anthropology. Abouheif explained that critics voiced concerns over the structure of the course, taking issue with the fact that it is discussion based and commenting that it required too much active participation for a science class. Introducing new courses with themes similar to BIOL 436 will have to come from professors willing to propose and fight for them.

“The next generation of biologists coming up are increasingly more aware of social inequality and justice, and how biology may influence them,” Abouheif said. “We need professors who are better equipped and who [think] more broadly about social change. For this to happen, we have to change the way we define the excellence of a [professor].”

Teachers are not textbooks—they are human beings with their own interests, biases, and backgrounds. Indeed, professors can harbour unconscious biases that leak into their interactions with students and their content.

Students have begun to pick up McGill’s slack in creating equitable spaces for science education at the university. Initiatives around campus have been created to amplify the voices of Black, Indigenous, and people of colour in STEM and to raise awareness of scientific biases. One such initiative is the podcast Broad Science. Its founder, Rackeb Tesfaye, who is a PhD candidate in Integrated Neuroscience, explained that she was inspired by her experiences as a graduate student. 

“What surprises me most is the notion of objectivity in science,” Tesfaye said in an interview with the Tribune. “[We are] taught to think that because we have the scientific method, we are inherently not biased as scientists, which is obviously untrue.” 

In fact, scientific and experimental methods are riddled with gender and racial bias: The vast majority of health studies are conducted on predominately white male subjects, skewing their conclusions towards one cohort of patients with sometimes disastrous results. Undergraduates should be informed of these research gaps so they can make a conscious effort to fill them in their work or at least consider their shortcomings when applying existing research. 

Science is a continual search for knowledge; theories are endlessly revised and adapted as new information comes to light. Moreover, scientific discoveries do not remain isolated within the scientific community, but rather are applied in government policies that can potentially create equitable change in society. 

By combining science and society in the classroom, McGill can produce more socially responsible and innovative scientists. Making space for social justice in the classroom is not an exercise in identity validation or an extraneous addition to appease critics, but a more effective way of training future scientists. 

“If there’s going to be a truly meaningful understanding of inequity within science, and movements towards rectifying those inequalities, then it needs to be embedded in [what] we learn and [what] we’re taught,” Tesfaye said. “It seeps into every single thing we do in science.”

Editorial, Opinion

The pandemic proves McGill is made by its students

Eight months in from the start of the COVID-19 pandemic, McGill students are just weeks away from the end of their first fully remote semester. When the university moved its operations online in March, the shift was jarring: Students had to quickly adapt to a new way of learning, and many faced financial uncertainty and declining mental health. All the while, McGill struggled to support them, from unsatisfactory and inaccessible online learning experiences to insufficient mental health resources. But where McGill has fallen short, student initiatives and organizations have filled in the gaps and have continued to uphold a sense of community. Their efforts demand recognition and gratitude, along with continued material support to allow such initiatives to continue. 

One of the earliest pandemic-relief student initiatives to arise was the Montreal Student Initiative for COVID-19 Response and Relief, which was founded in March 2020. The organization delivers groceries and prescriptions to those unable to leave their homes to run errands themselves. Meals for Milton-Parc is a similar project dedicated to serving those in need, providing warm meals to unhoused people and organizing winter clothing drives. These mutual aid initiatives, through which communities come together to make up for lapses in government or institutional assistance, are manifestations of social cohesion that have persevered even in the face of social distancing measures. Whereas McGill gratuitously raised international student tuition this Fall, students displayed resilience and compassion by giving up their time, energy, and money to support their communities. 

Other student-led initiatives, like the McGill Scientific Writing Initiative (MSWI), go beyond material support. Established in the summer of 2020 by U3 Science students Marine Nystern and Joyce Wu, MSWI offers resources to help students with science communication, since many science courses have replaced traditional multiple choice exams with papers. Similarly, services like the McGill Students’ Nightline and the Peer Support Centre offer on-demand active listening services to help fill some of the gaps in the Wellness Hub’s meagre online mental health care. 

Apart from novel support initiatives, clubs and other services have also shown resilience throughout the pandemic. For example, virtual Activities Night in September allowed students to learn about different opportunities to get involved at McGill despite the circumstances. From online dance classes like those offered by the McGill Recreational Dance Company to remote holiday gatherings like that put hosted by the Indian Students’ Association for Diwali, student groups have brought comfort to their members during these hard times. Activists have also continued to demand more equitable practices from the university even with fewer opportunities to gather in person. For instance, over the summer, a group of Black McGill students started the #TakeJamesMcGillDown movement, which gained much traction and support online. 

The pandemic has reinforced what students already knew: That McGill students are not Made by McGill. Rather, McGill is made by its students. If the university is reluctant to put its financial interests aside to support its student body, students will always come together to support each other. As the pandemic drags on and the new semester looms ahead, student labour to sustain these initiatives deserve recognition and support through social media promotion, volunteering, or donating whenever possible. It is still important to recognize, however, that students should not have to take on this work all on their own. It is unacceptable that students are forced to take on this labour with little to no recognition while the university continues to profit off of them.   

Regardless, although students may not currently be able to come together in lecture halls and events, the past eight months of hardship have proven that our community can prevail even at a distance. The McGill Tribune commends the efforts of those who have gone above and beyond to serve their communities during what has undoubtedly been the most collectively challenging period in recent memory.  

Off the Board, Opinion

My forgotten wonderful world of model trains

Two of my first friends were a pair of retirees with Santa Claus-worthy beards who worked in a small model train shop. From the outside, the store didn’t appear to be much: It was on the second floor of a nondescript suburban building marked by a patched, half-illuminated sign. Yet, inside lay a marvellous world of hundreds of interwoven and interconnected model trains. 

My trips to the shop were frequent, as it was just down the road from my grandmother’s house. Every time I went, the retirees would teach me more about the intricacies of model railroading. I learned about scales, gauges, train maintenance, layout design, and countless other fundamentals. At the end of my lessons, my mom would allow me to pick one train car from the discount box. As my collection grew, so did my fascination with transportation. Unfortunately, my compact New York City bedroom was not spacious enough for my hobby, and it was quickly engulfed within a miniature world. 

To stop the overflow, my parents prohibited me from acquiring more trains; however, their plan was quickly foiled by my hobbyist retiree colleagues. To make the space issue worse, I started to collect tickets, timetables, MetroCards, train postcards, and baggage tags. For the tags, I often chased after the conductor to request extra hole punches to add to the rarity of the piece.

From trains, my fascination shifted to the sky. I started using paper towel rolls to build rockets, purchasing engines to add excitement. I spent my evenings drawing hundreds of sketches of my imaginary airlines, glued to YouTube videos for hours, tinkering to replicate various designs. 

Transportation dominated my childhood. It became part of my identity—yet, as I grew up, my hobby, like many childhood fascinations, started to fade. By the time I was in high school, I was no longer the eager kid standing on the platform, craning his neck to see what type of train was going to emerge. My obsession was buried in high school by all the different activities that defined those years. 

When the COVID-19 pandemic hit, I moved back into my childhood home. I was faced with more time in my old bedroom than I could have ever possibly desired. Yet as time passed and I grew restless, I started to go through old belongings stashed in my closet. As I dug deeper into the assortment of belongings, I dug deeper into my past. It was an archeological exploration into my own life, first unearthing science projects and later arriving at my miniature trains. 

I unpacked my hobby glue and soldering iron and got to work repairing my well-worn possessions. Each one brought up a memory: A steam engine reminding me of a dramatic family Christmas, a station platform ushering back the moment a raccoon attacked my neighbour’s dog. While a large, frightful hospital tent went up on my block, and my city became the nation’s coronavirus epicentre, I coped by emerging myself in my old hobby. My miniatures offered solace while the world outside my building grew more terrifying with every passing day.  

When summer rolled around, and I was able to start seeing my friends while socially distanced, we began to fly our model planes for the first time since middle school. In the fall, after returning to Canada, I began to explore various hobby shops around Montreal, a warm nostalgic feeling flowing through me as I wandered through aisles admiring the selections—a feeling that I had gotten a piece of myself back. 

Sometimes when you stop and spend time with yourself, whether you choose to or not, you rediscover parts of yourself you lost in the process of growing up. Reconnecting with these pieces of our younger selves can be an antidote to processing challenging times. Moments where you remember that you’re never too old to do something that makes you happy are truly wonderful and comforting. 

Commentary, Opinion

McGill must reckon with the reality of MK Ultra

Between 1957 and 1964, McGill was home to a subproject of the Central Intelligence Agency’s (CIA) MK Ultra project. Under Dr. Ewen Cameron’s oversight, researchers conducted studies that subjected unwitting patients to high voltage electroshock therapy, weeks-long drug induced sleep, and large doses of Lysergic Acid Diethylamide (LSD). Survivors of the project and their families were forever changed by the lasting effects of this traumatic project and have filed class action lawsuits against provincial and federal governments, as well as McGill—the most recent of which having targeted the Allan Memorial Institute, a part of the Royal Victoria Hospital and the McGill University Health Centre. McGill’s complicity in the CIA’s violation of human rights, regardless of how long ago these atrocities occurred, is appalling. Students must advocate for the affected families and hold the university accountable for failing to release study documents to survivors. Moreover, this project demonstrates the need for medical institutions to maintain high standards and ensure that history never repeats itself. 

McGill is morally obligated to rectify its wrongdoings. Survivors of the project deserve the release of all details and information at McGill’s disposal, and the university owes the survivors a public apology. This would act as the first step to make amends for such disregard of the livelihoods of the project’s survivors. Financial compensation is also necessary for the survivors in each of the class action lawsuits. 

The MK Ultra project serves as a constant reminder of the power and resources that institutions like McGill possess, and the lack of accountability that often results. Students should apply pressure on the institution to disclose all the details regarding what took place during the experiments and ensure survivors are properly compensated. In particular, students in the Faculty of Law can help make McGill answer for its crimes by providing legal expertise to survivors’ families, upholding and continuing the human rights standards the faculty prides itself on. The McGill Centre for Human Rights and Legal Pluralism works to provide students, professors, and the wider Montreal community with resources to engage with the impacts of the legal system on social justice issues. Students within the Centre for Human Rights are in a unique position to lead efforts to prosecute McGill for actions that do not represent the democratic and humanitarian ideals of the law school. 

McGill’s law students are not alone in this challenge. Medical students also have the responsibility of fighting for justice on the part of survivors. McGill is home to Canada’s foremost medical school, and it is critical that McGill’s medical students collaborate with law students to confront the atrocities of the MK Ultra project. McGill has abused this power in the past, and in order to continue to uphold the highest standards of ethics within the institution and among its students, it must address its wrongdoings. Facing the realities of MK Ultra is necessary to produce medical professionals that prioritize their patients’ health over gaining knowledge through unethical means.

McGill’s inaction means that students must step up to continue to voice their condemnation of the MK Ultra project and mobilize to ensure that this act of brutality will never be forgotten or repeated.

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