Latest News

Features

McGill’s dirty, oily secrets

Content Warning: Physical violence, sexual violence

For years, campus environmental activist groups, such as Divest McGill and Climate Justice Action McGill, have been vocal about their demands: McGill must stop coddling extractive industries, namely fossil fuel and mining companies. From gold mining tycoon and heavy fossil fuel investor Seymour Schulich’s $20 million donation to McGill in 2005, to McGill’s own asbestos industry propagandist, Professor J. C. McDonald, to whom the Quebec Asbestos Mining Association gave one million dollars to produce phony research in 1997, the ethical baggage of McGill’s extractive past and present weighs heavily on students’ consciences and futures. There’s a reason that an environmental ethics professor resigned from his post at McGill over McGill’s embarrassing failure to divest three times in a row—the ethics of investing in industries that perpetuate environmental colonialism and slowly drag us towards a looming climate crisis, far outweighs any argument, financial or other, in their favour.

Science & Technology

An update on the GNL Quebec-Saguenay pipeline project

Environmental degradation, loss of endangered species, increases in greenhouse gas emissions—these are just some of the negative effects that the GNL Québec-Gazoduq Énergie Saguenay Project is predicted to have on Canada’s natural environment. The project, which proposes the construction of a 782-kilometre pipeline to carry natural gas from Northern Ontario to Quebec, is the final link in a series of transportation networks connecting Albertan oil fields with a planned natural gas liquefaction complex in Port Saguenay, Quebec. The McGill Tribune breaks down the current state of affairs and potential risks the pipeline poses to Canada’s environment and wildlife. 

Liquefied natural gas (LNG) is a form of natural gas that has been chilled to extremely low temperatures to cause a temporary phase transition from a gaseous to a liquid state. Once in liquid form, the volume of natural gas shrinks to 1/600th of its initial volume, rendering it economically feasible to transport over long distances. Although fossil fuel industry proponents claim that LNG is a form of “clean-energy” when compared to coal and traditional fossil fuels, environmental advocacy groups are not convinced that this is the case.

Since its proposal in 2014, the GNL-Saguenay Project has been met with overwhelming pushback from scientists and conservation authorities. Still, Quebec’s Minister for Regional Economic Development, Marie-Eve​​ Proulx, touted the project’s potential for increasing fiscal growth. GNL estimates that the project will create some 7000 jobs, at an approximate construction cost of $14 billion. 

The Government of Quebec’s upcoming decision on whether to approve the project, expected sometime in 2021, follows years of condemnation of similar pipeline projects across Canada.

In 2015, TransCanada abandoned a plan to build a port in Cacouna, Quebec due to concerns regarding its potential impact on local wildlife. The port was proposed to serve the Energy East pipeline and was slated to carry one million barrels of oil over 1,500 kilometres daily. The project was later cancelled altogether amidst strong pushback from a number of Indigenous and environmental groups. 

In British Columbia, an extension of the Trans Mountain pipeline through coastal waters near Vancouver has prompted nearly three years of legal challenges by environmental activists and First Nations communities. Among the most common concerns is the pipeline’s impact on endangered marine species

In Quebec, administrators behind the GNL-Saguenay Project have yet to clarify how they plan to implement their alleged compliance with provincial and federal environmental protections. Although GNL has declared that they will abide by government regulations, estimates that the project would contribute 7.8 million tonnes of greenhouse gases to the atmosphere annually, increasing Canada’s net natural gas exports by 27 per cent, have questioned the sincerity of their promise. Although Énergie Saguenay has disregarded this claim as false, the corporation’s environmental impact report—which dedicates only one page and a half to the environment, out of a total of 90 pages—makes no mention of this, nor provides a factual basis to refute scientist’s claims. 

Elsewhere in North America, pipelines have been shown to have other catastrophic environmental effects. Pipeline projects in Alaska and rural Pennsylvania have led to habitat destruction and forest fragmentation, with adverse consequences for native wildlife. The most recent 2019 report from the Intergovernmental Science-Policy Platform on Biodiversity and Ecosystem Services suggested that such changes in land use could place up to one million species in danger of extinction. 

In June of 2019, a group of 150 scientists from across Quebec signed an open letter calling for Prime Minister Justin Trudeau and Quebec Premier François Legault to reject the GNL-Saguenay Project on the basis of protecting the natural environment.

“In this era of climate emergency and collapsing biodiversity, we believe that scientists have a duty to speak out on the major projects that will determine the future of our civilization,” the scientists wrote in the letter, published in Le Devoir. “Taken as a whole, this project would therefore further alter the terrestrial and marine ecosystems on which life on Earth depends.”

Sports

CrossFit Games crown “Fittest on Earth”

Opinions on CrossFit range anywhere from people who think it is a fantastic way to work out to those who see it as seriously sketchy. Others have raised concerns about CrossFit’s ties to the U.S. military. The fitness regimen combines weightlifting, aerobics, and calisthenics for a high-intensity workout that has reached international popularity in the two decades since its founding, even developing into a competitive sport.

The CrossFit Games, which have been held annually since 2007, bring together the world’s best CrossFit athletes to determine who is the “Fittest on Earth.” Thousands of fans have attended the games, and millions have streamed them on services like ESPN and CBS. This year, the Games were streamed on YouTube where they amassed over one million views.

The peculiarity of the event names, like “Nasty Nancy,” “Damn Diane,” and “Swim ‘n’ Stuff,” is one aspect that illustrates the unique nature of the CrossFit competition. These events include challenges like the “2007 Reload,” a 1,500-metre row followed by weightlifting, and the “Ranch Loop,” a five kilometre run through unforgiving terrain. Each activity demands all-around peak performance from athletes. The Games are also set apart by their method of relative scoring, where athletes earn points based on how they rank among their peers.

The leadup to this year’s Games was, as one might expect, different. It was announced in April that spectators would not be allowed at the event due to concerns regarding COVID-19. The Games were then pushed from August to a two-stage competition held from Sept. 18 to 19 and Oct. 23 to 25. The team and age group divisions of the Games were cancelled outright. The top five athletes from the men’s and women’s divisions then traveled to Aromas, California, the site of the first Games. In accordance with the Crossfit Access Protocols, they were required to present a negative COVID-19 test before and after travel.

After all of the buildup, two athletes emerged victorious. Canadian-born American Mat Fraser earned his fifth consecutive title. Fraser placed first in every men’s event except two. His first defeat came in the “CrossFit Total,” where athletes have three chances to lift their one rep max in a strict press, a back squat, and a deadlift. Fraser’s second loss was in the “Swim ‘n’ Stuff,” a four-round gauntlet of air bike, a 50-metre swim, 10 GHD sit-ups, and 10 60-pound ball slams. Australian Tia-Clair Toomey claimed her fourth victory in a row, losing only three events in the women’s competition. American Kari Pearce took first in “Atalanta,” which consisted of a one-mile run followed by 100 handstand push-ups, 200 single-leg squats, 300 pull-ups, and another one-mile run while wearing a 14-pound vest. Jeffrey Adler, the only Canadian to qualify for stage two, finished fifth. Adler did, however, reach an impressive second place in the “Snatch Speed Triple,” timed lifts of 265-, 275-, and 285-pound barbells, and the “Bike Repeater,” 10 rounds of a 440-meter bike sprint and 15-foot legless rope climb. Adler was also one of only two people to beat Fraser in an event, winning the “CrossFit Total” with a combined weight of 1244 lbs across the three lifts.

Fraser and Toomey have never placed below second in any of the Games they have competed in; Fraser placed second in the 2014 and 2015 Games before taking the winner’s podium for the next five years. Toomey, who is also an Olympic athlete, was the runner-up in the 2015 and 2016 Games. The pair have trained together since 2019.

Despite COVID-19 and a change in leadership after the former CEO made offensive comments following the murder of George Floyd, CrossFit continues to thrive, and new CEO and owner Eric Roza hopes to reach out to new communities and continue expanding the sport.

All this raises the question of whether the Games are worth watching. If your favourite thing about sports is teamwork or strategy or a perfectly-executed play at a climactic moment, you may be better off skipping the Games. But if you enjoy watching athletes test their limits with mad dashes and impossibly heavy deadlifts, the Games may be the thing for you.

Toward survivor-centric justice in Quebec
Editorial, Opinion

Toward survivor-centric justice in Quebec

The Students’ Society of McGill University (SSMU) announced on Oct. 29 that it had formally signed a petition calling on the Quebec government to amend Bill 64, an Act to modernize legislative provisions as regards the protection of personal information. According to the petition, which was launched in early October by students at UQAM, the bill must be amended to allow universities and CEGEPs to inform survivors of any sanctions imposed on their perpetrators. The current legislation prevents survivors from receiving this information, which creates an inherent flaw in Quebec’s approach to addressing sexual violence reports on university campuses. 

In 2017, Quebec passed Bill 151, a law that defined the legal parameters for post-secondary institutions’ sexual violence policies. In many cases, however, existing privacy laws prioritize the safety of the accused over that of the survivor by prohibiting CEGEPs and universities from informing the survivor(s) about any disciplinary action taken against their aggressor, even after an investigation has taken place. Quebec must make amendments to establish a survivor-centric approach to addressing sexual violence, and McGill has a responsibility to take a stand against harmful impediments that undermine survivors’ safety. 

Reporting incidents of sexual violence is incredibly difficult for survivors, both emotionally and procedurally: It can be both intrusive and traumatizing for a survivor to have to repeatedly recount their experience to strangers. Many feel ashamed or are afraid of being victim-blamed should they come forward. Additionally, survivors often have to jump through many hoops to even be able to file a report in the first place. 

Quebec’s rules exacerbate these difficulties. Knowing what punitive action will be taken against one’s aggressor can, in some cases, provide a sense of security or closure to the survivor. When survivors are denied this, it can make them even less likely to come forward for fear that their aggressor will face no repercussions and that the emotional burden of filing a report will not be worth it. The current approach removes accountability from the institution, as universities are under no obligation to disclose their responses. 

McGill’s sexual violence policy also fails to adequately address the needs of survivors. The university’s Policy Against Sexual Violence, revised in 2019, did see some important improvements, including the establishment of an external Special Investigator. However, the policy still poses barriers to survivors with its highly legalistic jargon, which can further dissuade survivors from coming forward. 

Where McGill continues to fail, SSMU and other student-led groups have tried to intervene. Ratified in 2019, SSMU’s inter-faculty Involvement Restriction Policy aims to protect survivors by implementing restrictive measures against aggressors. Survivors are given the autonomy to outline which measures they want to see taken, which can even include banning the aggressor from attending campus-wide events. Though not perfect, this approach prioritizes the survivor, and implementing a similar policy at the university-wide level would allow the administration to better support survivors. Above all, current university and provincial policies require more revision in order to effectively protect survivors and not aggressors. 

Quebec must make amendments to its privacy laws that establish exceptions for cases of sexual violence in universities. If McGill is serious about taking action against sexual violence, as it often claims, then it must stand up to this harmful legislation and demonstrate leadership on this issue. Given the university’s shameful track record on sexual violence issues and concern for its reputation above all else, students are key in keeping the university accountable. As such, they must also sign and share the petition in solidarity with survivors. 

Sexual violence is traumatic and often life-altering. Survivors should not have to feel isolated from their communities and institutions, nor should they have to fear returning to their educational spaces without knowing whether necessary action has been taken against their aggressors. It is up to the government to amend its laws, but McGill must take the lead in enshrining survivor-centric justice in its policies and response processes. 

Science & Technology

Takeaways from the 20th annual Trottier Public Science Symposium

Oct. 26 marked the second day of the 20th annual Trottier Public Science Symposium, hosted by the McGill Office for Science and Society (OSS). Scientists presented talks on a variety of topics of public interest, all within the scope of this year’s theme: “In Whom Do We Trust?” 

How we know what we know—and what to do when we don’t

Wendy Zukerman is a science journalist and the host of the Science Vs podcast. She researches and reports on scientific topics ranging from orgasms to nuclear war, providing her listeners with a nuanced take on how science affects the daily lives of people. 

Like many academic scientists, Zukerman has faith in the peer-review process, the system of anonymous review used to assess the quality of a manuscript before it is published. 

“This is your gold standard of science,” Zukerman said. “I love peer-reviewed research […] because it not only has the stamp of approval of the team of researchers who actually did the paper, but it’s got these other independent researchers saying ‘yeah, this is good.’”

Yet, the peer-review process has a much harder time keeping up with the work of researchers when the dissemination of information can mean life or death. In a time of crisis, such as the COVID-19 pandemic, there is not always enough time to wait for peer-reviewed studies to become available. In these circumstances, Zukerman turns to pre-prints for her research, papers that have yet to be officially reviewed and are published in their manuscript form. 

Throughout the pandemic, many scientists have been sharing their research as quickly as possible, which allows for the efficient communication of information as it is discovered. However, this onslaught of new research leads to the inevitable retraction of many studies.

“The absence of evidence is not evidence of absence, which is all to say that not having really any evidence […] just literally means we don’t know,” Zukerman said.

Overall, Zukerman believes that science is trustworthy, but it often requires time to come to concrete conclusions.

“While science is working out the facts, […] we need to be honest with our audience and tell them that we don’t know,” Zukerman said. “Science takes time.”

Anthony Warner’s beef with ‘biased’ diets

Anthony Warner is a chef and food writer known by the moniker “The Angry Chef.” He investigates how people choose what food to eat and how and why this decision-making process can go awry. Warner contends that the three main causes for ignoring scientific evidence when it comes to dieting are related to what he calls complexity, tribalism, and the appeal to antiquity. These biases can affect everything from someone’s choice of breakfast to their opinions on the widespread environmental impact of agriculture.

Humans tend to reject complexity in favour of simple, easily understood explanations—and food is no exception. For example, some vegans often decry the North American and European tendency to eat an excessive amount of meat. However, raising animals can be useful in working toward a circular agriculture system, where waste is seen as a raw material to cultivate new valuable products, and the practice is essential to the livelihoods of many farmers. Moreover, meat consumption plays a large role in improving the nutritional status of people suffering from malnutrition. 

What Warner refers to as “tribalism” leads people to strongly identify as part of a group based on criteria that are often arbitrary. When it comes to nutrition, people often tie their trendy new diet to their identity and invest themselves in the surrounding online communities. This conflation of identity and diet can prevent them from rejecting preconceived notions when presented with contradictory evidence. 

Finally, the appeal to antiquity glorifies the dietary past, despite the fact that previous centuries often saw a very poor quality of life and nutrition for most individuals.

“We need to actually challenge some of the deeply held assumptions that underpin our systems of food production, and the way we consume food, and our culture of eating, which [are] going to be very difficult transitions to make,” Warner said.

Sports

Covering the odds and ends of sports in 2020

When the COVID-19 pandemic brought sports leagues across the world to a screeching halt in March 2020, many sports journalists were faced with job losses, while those who remained employed were left scrambling for content. Broadcasters and writers continued reporting on current developments in sports, such as leagues’ responses to the pandemic and the reactions from within the world of professional and collegiate sports. Without new games and events to report, however, sports journalists quickly ran out of new material to analyze. 

With spots to fill in print and programming, sports journalists were forced to get creative. While fans certainly missed seeing their favourite teams and leagues in action, the pandemic presented a unique opportunity for alternative content. In March 2020, The Guardian began releasing retrospective pieces in a series titled “My favourite game,” in which writers reflected on their most cherished memories of matchups from across a variety of sports. The series highlighted the value of something often overlooked in sports journalism: Hindsight. In a regular season, multiple games need to be covered and broken down in a single week, leaving little time for discussion and reflection on anything outside of ongoing games, trades, and injuries. “My favourite game” is an illustration of experiences that most sports fans have had; it is a collection of instances that remind readers and writers alike why they love the sports and teams that they do. It is also a series that would likely have never been published in a regular season. 

Alongside reflections on the past, some reporters began writing stories about the more obscure elements of their favourite leagues, and media outlets gave attention to sports that rarely receive mainstream coverage. Sports Illustrated’s Jake Fischer released a story on NBA halftime performer Red Panda, highlighting the work that goes into the spectacle that is modern sports viewing. ESPN offered airtime to the American Cornhole League, moving the league up from ESPN3 where the games were first broadcast in 2016. Again, the pandemic offered an unusual opportunity to delve deeper into the stories that make up modern sports as we know them, but that often remain forgotten, unknown, or are simply taken for granted. 

In some cases, the pandemic has allowed the business model of sports media to be completely rethought. When the entire staff of Deadspin quit in October 2019 after interim Editor-in-Chief Barry Petchesky was dismissed for refusing to “stick to sports,” they began brainstorming new ways to bring their coverage and work back to the public. They wanted a platform that would provide them with the editorial freedom that they sought, so they began the process of creating their own site. However, the pandemic’s effects on the economy led major investors to pause negotiations on deals with the former staff of Deadspin. With traditional funding paths and business models no longer viable, the idea of a co-operative mutually-owned organization that would hopefully not fail its employees in the way that other media outlets had was put on the table. In July 2020, 18 of the 20 staffers who had left Deadspin launched Defector Media, bringing politics, sports, and all of the quirky stories that are intertwined in those worlds to their new blog. 

The negative impacts of the COVID-19 pandemic on jobs and lives both within the sports industry and elsewhere are undeniable and should certainly receive media coverage. However, the temporary absence of live sports did not hinder the sports journalism and storytelling that continued. A global crisis has forced writers, reporters, broadcasters, publishers, and fans to adopt a new lens for enjoying sports, allowing for more diverse stories from across the sporting landscape to be showcased. 

Sports

Behind the mask: Marty the Martlet

As McGill University’s mascot, Marty the Martlet holds a prominent position in the eyes of the school’s student body. Not only is Marty seen around campus and at sports games in its kilt, it is also prominently featured in numerous McGill-centric meme pages and accounts. 

With all its notoriety, it is hard to remember that there’s somebody inside that giant vest-wearing bird costume. In an exclusive interview with The McGill Tribune, the performer behind the Marty mask answers questions about what it is like to don that costume, and shares tips on becoming a successful mascot.

Marty began mascotting after an open house at their high school, when they had the opportunity to don a full costume for the first time.

“I got picked for it first when all the people were there,” Marty said. “I honestly had a stupid amount of fun, just […] walking around, high-fiving [….] I could be as goofy as I wanted to. It was perfectly acceptable, if not expected of me. Being able to do that for an hour was awesome.”

After that experience, there was no looking back for Marty. They immediately signed up to be their high school’s mascot and eventually earned their spot as Marty the Martlet when they arrived at McGill. As a seasoned mascot, Marty notes that it takes a particular type of energy to get into this line of crowd-work.

“I’d say to get into mascotting, you need a lot of energy,” Marty said. “You can have introverts who like to be able to be part of a crowd and like not to be recognized. You can have extroverts who like being the center of attention […] and just making people happy [by] taking photos. It’s a good outlet to let loose very goofy, extroverted sorts of energy, and all sorts of different people can have that within themselves.”

On the surface, it appears that Marty’s job is easy, but considering the ground that they have to cover and the social situations they have to navigate, mascotting is a lot more than smiling and taking pictures.

“Time management is a very important part of what I do,” Marty said. “I have to think about questions like ‘When I am going to find a chance to go to this side of the stadium?’ and ‘When am I going to interact with these people?’ In a football game when the ball is in between downs, I might, like, scoot to one side, wave to a bunch of people, give some high fives, and maybe take a picture. And then 30 seconds later, when the game’s back on, I have to find a place to sit down without blocking anybody’s view.”

Marty said that mascots have a certain mystique surrounding their presence that makes for interesting reactions from the crowd.

“A lot of people are very unsure of how to act around you because you can’t speak,” Marty said. “But, at the same time, there’s a type of allure of like, ‘Oh, it’s a mascot.’ It’s like the physical manifestation of what our school and its spirit and essence is supposed to be. So there’s something cool about just getting a picture with that.”

Since McGill sports stopped in March, Marty has been out of work and has not been able to take pictures, offer high-fives, or dance. They look forward to the resumption of in-person sports matches, no matter how long it takes for games to come back.

“Being Marty was probably the most fun thing I did at McGill,” Marty said. “Sports games are something that so many different types of people come to to purely have a good time. To have the opportunity to be the person who stands out in front of the crowd and is there to entertain everybody is a very enticing idea to me and I miss it a lot.”

Off the Board, Opinion

On the ‘university experience’

Like many other students at McGill, I’ve lived in Montreal my whole life. In fact, I haven’t left my West Island suburb for more than a few weeks at a time since my last year of elementary school. Before the pandemic struck the city in March, I would spend at least three hours every day taking the train to and from McGill, as would other commuter students. 

For the bulk of the first two years of my degree, this commute was the most obvious manifestation of my frustration with the fact that I stayed in Montreal for school. I was jealous watching students from outside Montreal make new friends, explore a new city, and make what seemed like quintessential university memories. Living at home, I’ve always felt like I’ve missed out on these experiences. While I recognize that being a Quebec student has its financial perks and privileges, I often felt like I was missing out on a stereotypical “university experience.” 

There is a lot of pressure on students’ first year to be characterized by total independence, living with friends, and partying. I assume that a lot of this stems from the media we consume when leading up to starting university, which tends to paint college as a universally transformative and thrilling experience. So, when I got to McGill and experienced something that did not fulfill my expectations, I felt resentful. University can be isolating at the best of times, and my sense of isolation was made worse by being a commuter. 

The COVID-19 pandemic has put students’ lives on pause, but for good reason. In a way, this pause has exacerbated the feeling that any hope of the university experience I once pictured is now nearly out of the question. But on the other hand, it has allowed me to reflect on how things may still be different when life goes back to “normal,” whatever that may look like. 

In retrospect, I realized that I have taken many aspects of living in the same city my whole life for granted. Having never experienced a period of major change, you start to assume—even if subconsciouslythat things will always remain the same. However, I have one year left until I graduate and will move on from McGill before I know it, likely leaving most of what I have ever known behind. 

This is not only true for me. My three best friends, whom I’ve known since high school, are also all nearing graduation. When we all do, we’ll be separated for the first time, with most of us planning on moving to different places for graduate school. This realization really struck me during the pandemic, especially when we had to spend so much time apart in the spring. Missing their company made me realize that they have made my high school, CEGEP, and university experiences what they are and that I began to wish things won’t have to change. 

As young people, it can be easy to wish away formative periods in our lives, thinking that things would fall into place if one factor were different. But if the pandemic has taught me anything, it’s that life will not always work out how you may have pictured it—and that that’s not always a bad thing. Rather than being frustrated with what I may have lost out on due to the pandemic, or spending my time wishing I could time-travel forward, I am trying my hardest to see this as an opportunity to cherish my newfound appreciation for my own unique university experience.  

Now, I hope more than anything that I can meet my friends on the train at 7:00 a.m. again before the end of our degrees. While I might still complain, I’ll be more grateful than ever for the time that I do get to spend with them.

governance
Commentary, Opinion

Better engagement with students can prevent another failed SSMU referendum

The Students’ Society of McGill University (SSMU) recently held its Fall 2020 Special Referendum to ratify changes made to the SSMU constitution. One of the key proposals would have renamed SSMU’s Judicial Board (J-Board) to the “SSMU Appellate Committee.” The name change would reflect SSMU’s new vision for the J-Board’s legalistic procedures, and was intended to convey a more honest and accurate representation of the scope of the Board’s decision making powers, which are below those of the democratically elected SSMU Board of Directors (BoD). Although ratifying the name change would have been a step towards creating a more transparent and accessible SSMU, it failed because of an alarmingly low 10.6 per cent voter turnout, which meant that SSMU did not meet the 15 per cent quorum needed to enact these changes. The referendum’s failure indicates that SSMU must make a better effort to provide students with adequate context to understand the importance of participating in student government.

Low voter turnout in SSMU elections is not a new issue. For some students, voting is only worthwhile when proposed changes include adding a fall reading week to the academic calendar. For many students, however, the decision to opt-out of voting stems from deeper resentment or skepticism towards a body that they perceive as secretive and elitist by nature. Past scandals have left a bad impression on those who believe that elected student representatives, and the body through which they operate, continuously fall short when it comes to upholding the pillars of transparency and accountability on which they claim to be built. 

Realistically, making the J-Board an “Appellate” committee would in no way erase SSMU’s affiliation with scandal, elitism, or misrepresentation. However, the proposed name change was more than just an outward, surface-level expression; it represented practical, internal revision to the J-Board’s operations and SSMU’s portrayal of these operations to students. The question implemented various framework adjustments to reduce accessibility issues, and openly acknowledged that the democratically elected Board of Directors has ultimate authority over legal matters. This indicates that SSMU was prepared to take a step towards mitigating the confusion and skepticism surrounding its division of powers and the capacity of elected representatives. The name change, in many ways, symbolized a step towards addressing some of the issues of transparency and accessibility that have failed to engage the student body. Despite the name change acknowledging that authoritative power over SSMU’s legal matters is held by democratically elected BoD representatives, and not a committee of seven students, voter turnout was the lowest SSMU has seen in five years. This turnout rate emphasizes how little students actually know about the importance of voting in the first place. 

It would be a mistake to assume that the issue here is the McGill electorate. Students who are otherwise politically active would not belittle an election, even for a student society, if they had any idea that their vote could lead to substantial improvements in SSMU’s decision making processes. Outlining the meaning behind proposed changes only after students log on to vote is counter-intuitive: It pushes the burden of informed voting onto students who are occupied with other issues. That SSMU is unable to get students to the polls, even when the changes at hand will address the very areas in which students have been hoping to see progress, begs the question of whether SSMU is actually as committed to accessibility as the proposed name change suggested. 

It is encouraging to see that SSMU is working to improve the transparency of its power structure and student accessibility to its services. However, if the Society wants to reach the students who have been repelled by its overly bureaucratic nature, it must find a way to show them, prior to voting, that it is not just slapping on a new name tag on the same old body, but amending the system that operates behind the name tag. 

Arts & Entertainment

‘Virtual Voice and Verse’ treats attendees to the gift of poetry

On Oct. 29, McGill’s McSWAY Poetry Collective resumed their open mic series with “Virtual Voice and Verse.” While their open mics are usually held on campus, the warmth and invitation of the performers’ lyrical and unique poetry nevertheless fostered its own virtual community. Featuring Lucia de Luca, B.Ed ’20, a McSWAY alum and emerging spoken word artist, the event’s stellar lineup vouched for the McGill community’s creative spirit, often numbed by the rigours of academia. Through the open mic, McSWAY treated its guests with a gift—one of collective experience, a simultaneous awe and desire to discover more.

“Virtual Voice and Verse” welcomed a group of McGill poets of different backgrounds and styles, ranging from undergraduates and first-time members to graduate students and McSWAY executives. Within this range came a striking variety—no poem was exactly like the other, and each one had a distinct story to tell. Topics like love and protection, Canada’s diverse ecology, life’s horrors, nostalgic music, reflections on the past, home, and belonging were avenues through which the performers could share their experiences and ideas with the audience. To conclude the event, de Luca shared personal and powerful pieces “Ciao” and “Fiadone,” which retrospectively mapped her life.

In an interview with The McGill Tribune, Amanda Ventrudo, U2 Arts and McSWAY’s Vice-President of Communications, spoke about the vital services McSWAY offers to McGill students looking to develop their poetic voices. In her three years as a member and executive, Ventrudo has found that the process of sharing her work has been daunting at times, but a fulfilling and cathartic experience nonetheless. 

“Having a space to share runs parallel to developing as a poet and further expressing yourself,” Ventrudo said. “Going to our events, no matter how formal, is an excuse to polish your work, to practice, to edit.”

The need for creative spaces is a sentiment felt by many performers, and encouragement from the crowd often alleviates some of the anxiety that comes with performing. In person, this validation would be in the form of loud claps, cheers, and snaps, while on Zoom, the chat box fills with positive messages. Ventrudo noted that during the pandemic, fostering a sense of community remains a priority for McSWAY, and that one benefit of online spaces is their accessibility. McSWAY maintained a safe and inclusive atmosphere by having community representatives assist with content warnings, provide feedback to the open-mic’s performers, and give a land acknowledgement that called for audience members to support Indigenous artists. 

“Accessibility is vital in any expressive space,” Ventrudo said. “Knowing that you’re safe is important to us, as it removes that sense of doubt.” 

As more poets join McSWAY’s events, the seemingly formal boundaries of poetry vary and change.

“There is an exclusive reputation of poetry […] of the cheesy Notes app poems, […] of the left/right brain myth, […] but in sharing, it’s clear that all poetry has merit,” Ventrudo said.

As an executive, Ventrudo works on collaborating with different groups and students on campus.  One notable collaboration was their June 2020 virtual open mic co-hosted with Queer McGill. Collaboration increases awareness and allows McSWAY’s events to intersect with the shared experiences of McGill students.

“McGill has a broad student body and community, and there’s no specific niche, no perfect subset to poetry or creativity,” Ventrudo said.

McSWAY’s reach is extensive, stretching past the McGill community due in part to its continuous programming that provides access to dedicated writing spaces. In fact, because of Zoom’s capacity for worldwide connectivity, McSWAY’s summer open mic had performers based in Australia and Chicago.

During the pandemic and beyond, McSWAY allows for its members to connect over a shared practice and appreciation of the spoken word. The club offers an accessible outlet for creativity, and a much-needed collective experience for our socially-distanced reality.

McSWAY’s upcoming events include the next open mic in November, their annual “Heartbreak Museum,” and their slam competition in March.

 

Read the latest issue

Read the latest issue