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Science & Technology

Breaking down silos: SUSAN’s global initiative to advance sustainability

by Val Muñoz on

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From governance and policy to social sustainability and economics, solving global environmental issues demands collaboration across all fields. 

Juan C. Serpa, Associate Professor of Operations Management at McGill, has constructed a groundbreaking initiative designed to bridge the gap between different academic disciplines, fostering collaboration in the fight for sustainability. His project, the Sustainability Academic Network (SUSAN), has become a central hub for researchers, students, and organizations, connecting over 3,000 institutions and classifying sustainability efforts into 60 distinct themes with the help of generative AI.

“We’ve been working on this for two years and released it six weeks ago, and it suddenly became viral,” Serpa shared in an interview with The Tribune. “We’ve had 8,000 users sign up already.” 

The rapid success of SUSAN reflects the growing demand for a centralized space where sustainability-focused individuals can easily connect, share resources, and collaborate across various disciplines. 

“Universities have traditionally been organized in silos,” Serpa explained. “We think about engineering, business, medicine, and arts separately. But sustainability isn’t like that. It requires input from all these fields. To tackle challenges like solar power, we need engineers, policymakers, business leaders, and more—all working together.”

SUSAN is a platform designed to address this need, uniting researchers across disciplines and promoting collaboration on projects ranging from renewable energy solutions to social sustainability initiatives. 

Serpa believes that sustainability is a unique challenge in academia. 

“If I were going to create the law academic network or the medical academic network, they don’t need this. They talk with each other already. They have their own mechanisms,” Serpa said. “Sustainability crosses the boundaries, and that’s why we need a platform like this.”

For many students and academics, finding sustainability-related events, conferences, and networking opportunities is a time-consuming task, requiring them to visit multiple websites and sift through scattered resources. SUSAN solves this problem by consolidating all these resources in one place. Whether you are looking for conferences, networking opportunities, or simply to connect with others working on similar projects, the platform serves as a comprehensive hub for all things sustainability. 

As SUSAN continues to grow, it faces the challenges of sudden success. Serpa anticipated that within the next few months, the platform could reach 100,000 users, which may put stress on its current financial model. Despite this, he is committed to ensuring that the platform remains independent from corporate influence and stays true to its goal as an academic initiative. 

“It’s a good problem to have,” Serpa said. “But as we grow, we need to think about how we can ensure this platform remains focused on its mission: Helping sustainability initiatives thrive.” 

Serpa’s vision for SUSAN goes beyond academic connections. He hopes that the platform will serve as a community space for anyone interested in sustainability, from students launching their careers to grassroots organizations hosting local events. He envisions a global network where universities like McGill and institutions worldwide come together, share resources, and work collaboratively to build a sustainable future. 

“There are already sustainability events happening all over Montreal, and we want to create a central calendar for all of them,” Serpa said. “By connecting universities, communities, and organizations, we can maximize our collective impact.” 

With its potential to grow into a vital resource for sustainability efforts worldwide, Serpa is optimistic about the platform’s future. 

“I don’t want it to be my own platform. I want it to be something that is from the research community,” he said.

As the world grapples with urgent environmental challenges, initiatives like SUSAN showcase the power of collaboration—and how enthusiastic people are about collaborating across disciplines to solve today’s pressing issues. For students, researchers, or simply anyone passionate about sustainability, this platform could be the gateway to making a difference.

Art, Arts & Entertainment

Wieland exhibit at the MMFA wears its heart on its sleeve

by Mia Helfrich on

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Joyce Wieland stares with dots of navy for eyes, a dash of white for a nose, and no mouth. She is pale and faceless, yet her portrait seems to pose defiantly. She is challenging us. 

Heart On—which opened at the Montreal Museum of Fine Arts (MMFA) on Feb. 8—commemorates Joyce Wieland, a Canadian filmmaker and artist. Her work is deeply political and feminist, spanning a wide array of mediums. Oil paintings, cardboard collages, plastics, photography, films, and quilts line the large stone halls of the MMFA’s Michal and Renata Hornstein Pavilion. 

“Visitors will discover the beauty of her sensational paintings, the layered wit of her textile pieces, and the eloquence of her experimental films,” writes Anne Grace, Curator of Modern Art at the MMFA, in the exhibition press release.

Every piece in the exhibit draws a narrative as Wieland blends elements of animation, comics, and storyboarding. The foundations of her distinctive visual storytelling begin in the first room, with collage. The first few rooms showcase her early works of the late 50s and early 60s, including the faceless self-portrait, Myself (1958). Within this first room, the cardboard collages are experimental and full of wonder. It feels as if she was simply using the materials she had on hand, imbuing the work with a nostalgic and homemade quality. Her paintings in the first room are defined by bold-coloured backgrounds, wide strokes, and a spread of smaller illustrations and symbols. 

Even in her paintings, she incorporates collage: Each illustration could work as a standalone symbol, yet she combines it with others within the same painting. In March on Washington (1963), linked rings, a black-and-white heart, a Confederate flag, and a shirt emblazoned with “FREEDOM NOW,” among other symbols, recount both the tension and unity during the civil rights movement in the United States. Viewers can move their eyes through each symbol on the canvas and see a narrative unfold about the fight for racial solidarity.  

She pushes further into storyboarding with the painting Untitled (Sinking Liner)  (1963), which breaks the canvas into four sections like a comic and shows each frame of a sinking ship. She calls these “filmic paintings” as they mirror the films projected alongside the tangible displays. The films seem to tie together each element of storytelling as if each painting and collage culminated into the visuals of her films. The museum also incorporates her photography, many of them displayed on monochromatic film rolls, as if the visitor is given a peek behind the scenes, into her camera itself.

“With her seductive wit and piercing intelligence, Joyce Wieland asked us all to do better, to care more,” writes Georgiana Uhlyarik, Fredrik S. Eaton Curator of Canadian Art at the Art Gallery of Ontario, in the exhibition press release.

Wieland cements her political focus with the collection of her quilts, embroidery, and plastic artwork. She explores Canadian identity with O Canada (1970), a series of embroidered women’s lips mouthing the newly official national anthem. The embroidery brilliantly acts as an animation of singing the anthem as each embroidered lip acts as a frame that visitors can see the song being sung when their eyes move across the fabric. Many of her pieces are also made of plastic, which often feature a collage of brightly coloured plastic ‘pillows’ that recreate movie frames, flags, and a mirror. 

As visitors walk through the exhibition, the range of experimental mediums may seem scattered, lacking a centralized identity. Yet, Wieland’s multiple mediums, coupled with the curators’ choice to feature them all, challenge the idea that artists must stick to one form to craft their artistic identity. The camera roll alongside the finished films defy what it means to present a complete project as the plot of artistic development is what is celebrated. Her radical switches from painting to film to plastic mirror the revolutionary political changes of the 60s and 70s. Wieland may have started faceless, but her features are fleshed out with each storyboard, activist painting, film, and photo.

Heart On was curated by Anne Grace and Georgiana Uhlyarick. Tickets are available online until  May 4.

Art, Arts & Entertainment

When there are no words

by Jamie Xie on

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When I was little and my parents were checking out at the grocery aisle, I would wander over to the greeting cards and wait. It was only upon discovering the floral-fronted sympathy cards that I began to realize death was all around us. With a history as banal as its subject matter, death is the unknowable reality of our everyday lives. It is one of the few universal experiences we all share and yet our relationship to it is anything but simple. In navigating loss, we often ask: What is there to be said when words fail? 

Hosted in the Osler Library of the History of Medicine until Apr. 1 and curated by the Maude Abbott Medical Museum of the Pathology Society, When There Are No Words explores the shifting sociocultural attitude towards grief through a collection of uniquely Québécois sympathy cards. The exhibit examines evolving perspectives across four primary chronological periods—Confederation to World War 1, World War I to the Quiet Revolution, the Quiet Revolution to the end of the millennium and contemporary times—tracing Quebec’s transition from a predominantly French Catholic society to an increasingly secular, multicultural one through our popular understanding of loss. 

Originating out of necessity, in a time when letters were the primary means of remote communication, sympathy cards were initially responses to funeral invitations and simple tokens to not yet provide support but rather acknowledge grief in a time where there are no words. Often featuring black motifs and restrained text, the cards offered support without having to mention the effectively unmentionable topics of death directly, exercising sensitive restraint and respect through euphemism. Through depictions of angels and written phrases such as “pray for us and the souls of purgatory,” the cards from this era reflect the Catholic overtones that dominated society, filtering into every aspect of life—even death.

From World War I through the Quiet Revolution, an “enlightened” perspective on death emerged. Sympathy cards from this period embraced minimalist pastel palettes and imagery intertwining religion and nature—gardens, gates—reframing death as a journey rather than a final departure. Handwritten cards added a personal touch but mostly echoed printed text, reinforcing tradition over individuality. 

The Quiet Revolution marked one of Quebec’s most profound cultural shifts, particularly in its ever-growing detachment from Catholicism. As Quebec secularized, skepticism of the Church grew. With rising resentment, home wakes declined, and sympathy cards shifted from funeral invitations to secular expressions of empathy. By the end of the millennium, sympathy cards had begun to trade out religious aspects for themes of nature and individualist spirituality. 

With an understanding shaped by recent scientific advancements, death is increasingly interpreted through the contemporary lens as a medical phenomenon. Sympathy cards can come from healthcare and ICU workers, reaching out to patients and their families. With personalized handwritten messages and cursive fonts mimicking the intimacy of handwriting, these cards reflect the highly individualized nature of loss. The collection’s inclusion of many more English cards than in earlier periods also reflects the changing demographics of Quebec.

In this time, we begin to reevaluate our understanding of loss, particularly the nonlinear, decentralized grief which affects not just family members but everyone who was close to the deceased. When a husband dies he leaves his wife a widow, but what is there to be said about the silently bereaved—such as the mourning of miscarriages, stillbirths, pets, ex-partners, or the passing of friends and coworkers? When society fails to acknowledge grief, is it made any less real?  

“There is a poem by Kenneth Patchen,” said Rick Fraser, Director of the Maude Abbott Medical Museum in an interview with The Tribune. “‘There are so many little dyings that it doesn’t matter which of them is death.’ I think he was expressing that we lose things all the time. There are little deaths and there are big deaths and we must pay attention to each of them because they are all a part of our lives.”

An exhibit that captures the quiet weight of grief, When There Are No Words gives voice to what words often fail to express. Quebec’s sympathy cards are not relics of the past—they are privileged living artifacts that evolve alongside us. They portray Québécois sympathy in its most intimate form. As the exhibit reminds us all—sometimes it really is the thought that counts. 

When There Are No Words is on view at the Osler Library until Mar. 30.

Commentary, Opinion

What’s up, doc? Discrimination against foreign doctors runs rampant amid Canada’s doctor shortage

by Helene Saleska on

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Canada faces a dangerous shortage of medical doctors, leaving approximately five million Canadians without access to primary care providers in 2022. Simultaneously, internationally-trained physicians (ITPs) struggle to meet unnecessarily burdensome requirements to practice medicine in Canada. 

Foreign-trained doctors must undergo eight cumbersome steps to obtain a Canadian medical license—as opposed to three for Canadian-trained doctors. These include the National Assessment Collaboration Objective Structured Clinical Examination, which is expensive, offered a few times a year, and only open to a small number of applicants. This is not required for doctors from the UK, Ireland, and Australia who can apply through the College of Family Physicians of Canada. ITPs must re-complete residency training, as most provinces do not recognize foreign clinical experience, despite many ITPS having been doctors for many years. This is particularly difficult considering only 10 per cent of residency spots in Canada are open for ITPs. 

Although many provinces have introduced another quicker ITP-licensure pathway called the Practice Ready Assessment, this poses new challenges. All ITPs must fulfil a “Return of Service” requirement which mandates that physicians work in underserved areas for a set amount of time after completing their residency—usually, rural towns and communities where access to healthcare is especially low—for many years to be eligible for a license. These obstacles act effectively as indenture agreements, while Canadians and Americans are not subject to the same restriction of movement and job freedom. They do not ensure doctors are actually qualified, disregard doctors’ potential need for additional training, and apply indiscriminately to ITPs, regardless of expertise, of which 78.1 per cent are from non-Western countries. This exposes how the inequitable licensing process lacks justification and disproportionately affects doctors of colour. 

In 2020, a group of internationally trained physicians filed a human rights lawsuit—against the British Columbia Ministry of Health, the College of Physicians and Surgeons of B.C. and the University of British Columbia—for imposing barriers on foreign-trained doctors. They outlined how these discriminatory practices propagate a blatant double standard for ITPs, even when ITPs have the same level of qualification and often even more clinical experience. They argued that the province is blocking most immigrant physicians from pursuing their livelihood and lifelong profession. 

Racialized doctors’ expertise is severely devalued, and systems that uphold standards of professionalism and expertise really often protect standards of whiteness in “prestigious” institutions. It indicates a deep lack of motivation in Canadian governments to change mechanisms of white privilege and systemic racism, even when it is detrimental to the health and well-being of all Canadians.

Effective steps towards addressing Canada’s doctor shortage and the discrimination faced by ITPs would include increasing residency and professional positions for all doctors, with more spots open for ITPs, and lowering costs for examinations and re-training. Canada should also prioritize equality for all foreign workers by establishing more agreements—such as existing modified pathways for doctors from Ireland, the UK, and Australia—for already licensed doctors to skip re-examination and re-training, especially with doctors from Asian countries, where 62 per cent of ITPs immigrate from. Instead of forcing only foreign doctors to work in underserved areas with Return-of-Service contracts, Canada must provide incentives to all doctors to address community needs. 

Although Health Ministers and politicians promise action in the form of expanding open residency positions, making the licensing process quicker, and allowing ITPs to run independent practices, these measures barely scratch the surface. They do not address the scale of the problem or the systemic inequality, racism, and xenophobia still embedded within the structure of the medical licensing process. 

Ironically, Canada remains committed to enforcing the myth that these qualified doctors must be vetted and barred from practice to such a high degree to protect Canadians’ “safety,” while millions of Canadians suffer from a lack of medical care.  In order to obtain the necessary structural changes, there is a need for meaningful consideration of this deeply entrenched racist conflation between expertise and whiteness, as well as comprehensive disruption of the bureaucratic and political systems that uphold it. 

News, SSMU

New SSMU food pantry offers students groceries at affordable prices 

by Mahin Siddiki on

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The Students’ Society of McGill University (SSMU) recently launched a new pay-what-you-can student food pantry on Jan. 30 to promote greater food security on campus. Planned in partnership with the ECOLE project, a sustainability-focused communal student housing cooperative, the pantry is located in the foyer of the ECOLE building at 3559 Rue University. 

This project is just one of several initiatives to battle food insecurity at McGill, an issue student groups—such as McGill Food Coalition, Midnight Kitchen, Student Nutrition Accessibility Club’s (SNAC), and Let’s Eat McGill—claim is prevalent on campus. According to a survey carried out by Let’s Eat McGill in Winter 2023, over 30 per cent of surveyed students went without meals once or twice a month, while over 20 per cent of students went without meals several times a month.

Nika Rovensky, one of the facilitators of ECOLE  and the Community Engagement Commissioner at SSMU, manages the SSMU food pantry in partnership with SSMU Vice-President External Affairs, Hugo-Victor Solomon. 

Located opposite the Birks Building, the food pantry is open to students 24/7, making it unique compared to other initiatives on campus. In comparison, SSMU’s Grocery Program is available once a semester, and SNAC’s weekly produce distribution operates every Monday from 1 p.m. to 4 p.m.. Similarly, the Midnight Kitchen operates once or twice a week at 1 p.m.. 

“One really big thing that we wanted to address was the aspect of accessibility, and being able to come get [food] on your own schedule and not being held back by a window of time,” Rovensky said. “That’s why the food bank is refilled once a week but it’s accessible at all times. You don’t need to tap in or anything, you can just open the door and it’s just there.” 

Solomon believes that the food pantry is a tangible way to give back to the student community and address the issue of food insecurity. 

“This project is squarely in line with mandate 5.1.1 of the SSMU’s Food Security Policy by promoting food sovereignty for the student community while working to ensure more equitable access to food resources,” Solomon wrote in a statement to The Tribune.

The food bank operates on a pay-what-you-can scheme, with signage in the pantry indicating suggested amounts for students to pay. Suggested prices, which can be paid via e-transfer, range from $0.25 CAD for canned items and pasta, to $0.50 CAD for single vegetables, and $1 CAD for everything else. 

Innovation Assistance, a community food distribution centre that aims to provide food sovereignty to those who need it in the Peter-McGill area, delivers the food bi-weekly. Micah Angell, the coordinator of Innovation Assistance, explained why the centre collaborated with the food pantry in a written statement to The Tribune.

“Innovation Assistance’s Food Dream desires for the residents of Peter-McGill to have no barriers between them and the food that they want to consume,” Angell wrote. “Being able to help make sure that students facing food insecurity at McGill have access to healthy and local food is a huge win for us and for the neighbourhood.”

SNAC and Midnight Kitchen are also collaborating with the student food pantry, delivering produce and allowing volunteers to restock the pantry every week or several times a week if needed. 

Rovensky explained how the food pantry aims to promote sustainability by limiting its food waste 

“If there’s food that hasn’t been taken, and it might be going bad, we find a way to repurpose it here,” Rovensky said. “An example of that would be that we had a film screening this past week and there were some extra parsnips [in the pantry] and they made parsnip chips for the film screening for the people that came. So it’s [a] very circular [process].” 

Looking to the future of the food pantry, Rovensky and Solomon both hope that the program will continue to grow. 

“This is a pilot project and we’re looking to expand it long-term in collaboration with Student Housing and Hospitality […] at McGill, and have a larger space in the University Hall Building,” Rovensky said. 

Features

Unearthing Canadian veins of greed

by Monique Kasonga on

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How the country enables the global mining industry’s exploitation of people and the planet

On Jan. 13, 2025, Mali took a bold step in reclaiming control over its natural resources, as the government began seizing $245 million CAD worth of gold stocks from Canadian mining giant Barrick Gold. The seizure is part of a wider dispute over Barrick’s refusal to pay its dues under Mali’s newly passed mining codes, which seek to address decades of unequal agreements that have left African states with minimal stakes in their own resources. A quick search reveals that this is not the first time Barrick has been called out—among other controversies, Mali had previously demanded about $500 million USD in unpaid taxes from Barrick, a sum that points to the company’s failure to meet its obligations.

This issue stretches far beyond Mali and forms part of a larger, predatory pattern. Nearly half of the world’s mining companies are based in Canada, and they are leaving a trail of devastation.

feature imageThe Toll of Canadian Miningfeature image

In Ecuador, Indigenous women have been sounding the alarm that a proposed free trade agreement between the Canadian and Ecuadorian governments could pave the way for even more human rights and environmental abuses by Canadian mining companies.

In Honduras, two workers fled their village after forces tied to the now-closed Canadian mining giant Gold Corp murdered their uncle, an environmental activist, in what they believed was a targeted killing.

When they sought refuge in Canada, officials told them to lie about their story and present it as an escape from drug traffickers instead of revealing the truth—that their uncle’s death was a direct consequence of Canada’s mining interests. These are just two of countless examples of how Canada’s global footprint is built on exploitation, all while the country turns a blind eye to the damage caused in its name.

Even within Canada, the government has allowed corporations to exploit the country’s land and mistreat its Indigenous communities. This is especially troubling because the mining industry does have the potential to be more ethical through measures like resource management, community engagement, and stringent environmental protections. Our dependence on mining industries, particularly for technology, is undeniably problematic.

However, change is possible even within our global capitalist economy. Ethical mining must address historical injustices by securing community consent, investing in long-term benefits for local populations, and ensuring transparency in supply chains. While the extractive industry has caused significant harm, it’s possible to envision a future where it is compatible with both environmental and social well-being. The challenge lies in shifting the focus away from corporate interests and toward a model that prioritizes people and the planet.

The mining giant Glencore stands in stark contrast to this vision of ethical mining. After years of investigations, the Swiss Office of the Attorney General found the company guilty of “inadequate organization” due to corrupt mining deals in the Democratic Republic of the Congo, specifically around its dealings with Israeli businessman Dan Gertler. Glencore’s involvement in bribery and illegal practices resulted in significant losses for the Congolese people, with billions of dollars in potential earnings from resources like copper and cobalt being siphoned off. Glencore has paid fines, but the penalty barely scratches the surface compared to the wealth generated by exploiting these resources. Even after the United States government sanctioned Gertler for his role in this corruption, Glencore continues to pay him tens of thousands of dollars as royalty payments from mines acquired through these corrupt deals. Undeterred by these controversies, Glencore is expanding its operations in Canada, acquiring four massive coal mines in British Columbia. Glencore’s takeover of B.C. mines raises concerns about ongoing selenium pollution in the Elk River Valley, which has long been toxic to fish. Reports highlight that the government has failed to impose strong conditions on Glencore to halt the pollution and cover the massive cleanup costs. Advocates fear the company’s vague commitments to environmental remediation will fall far short of addressing the long-term environmental devastation in B.C.

feature imageA Safe Haven for Mining Corporationsfeature image

Canadian mining companies dominate the global extractive industry not because of their technical expertise or ethical leadership, but because Canada has deliberately positioned itself as a regulatory bastion for mining corporations. With 47 per cent of the world’s public mining companies listed on Canadian stock exchanges, the country provides an ultra-permissive legal, financial, and diplomatic environment that enables these companies to operate with near-total impunity. Even mining corporations not physically based in Canada register as Canadian companies because the country offers a system designed to protect corporate interests over human rights and environmental accountability.

Alain Deneault, philosopher, researcher and professor at Université de Moncton, explained in an interview with The Tribune that the mining companies benefit from Canada’s lax disclosure requirements, which allow them to engage in speculative resource claims, inflating their market value without stringent verification.

“Canadian mining companies can speculate on potential resources rather than just proven reserves, creating opportunities for market manipulation,” Deneault said.

Beyond financial benefits, Canada’s diplomatic network acts as an unofficial lobby for mining corporations.

“A whole network of Canadian diplomats are actively working to represent the interests of mining companies in the countries where they operate,” Deneault said. “This pressure forces governments to lower tariffs, invest in infrastructure that supports mining, and even expel people from their land.”

The result is a global empire of extraction, where Canadian mining companies can pollute, displace, and exploit with minimal consequences, knowing that the legal, financial, and diplomatic frameworks of their home country will work in their favour.

feature imageBarrick Gold’s North Mara Mine: A Case Study in Corporate Abusefeature image

At Barrick Gold’s North Mara mine in Tanzania, violence, forced displacement, and human rights abuses have become routine. The Canadian mining giant has operated the mine through subsidiaries since 2006.

According to MiningWatch Canada, which has been documenting abuses at North Mara since 2014, the situation on the ground is dire.

“Conflicts happen weekly around the mine,” Catherine Coumans, Research Coordinator for MiningWatch said in an interview with //The Tribune//. “These result in arbitrary arrests, severe beatings—some leading to death—as well as people being shot, maimed, or killed. And these are not just people accused of entering waste rock piles for residual gold. Even innocent bystanders, including schoolchildren, have been targeted.”

Forced evictions have been taking place since the mine’s inception. The Kuria people, Indigenous to the region, traditionally rely on cattle herding and small-scale gold mining for their livelihoods. But when gold was discovered in their lands, Barrick moved in to claim it.

“As is so common all over the world, whenever small-scale gold mining starts, governments and mining companies notice and go, ‘There’s money to be made there,’” Coumans explained. “And within no time at all, the small-scale miners are forced off their land, and large-scale mining companies take over, often with government support.”

The most recent wave of forced evictions, between 2022 and 2023, displaced 5,000 families—tens of thousands of people.

“When I say forcibly evicted, […] people had no choice. These evictions were accompanied by violence, intimidation, and coercion,” Coumans said. “These families lost not just land, but generational wealth—something passed from parents to children. Now, it’s gone.”

feature imageProtecting Profits, Dodging Accountabilityfeature image

Canada’s legal framework does not just fail to hold mining companies accountable—it actively protects them. When Canadian corporations commit abuses abroad, victims seeking justice are often blocked by legal loopholes that allow these companies to evade responsibility and shift cases to foreign jurisdictions where legal systems are weaker or more easily influenced. Canadian law makes it very difficult to sue companies domestically as it empowers corporations to argue that cases should be heard in the countries where alleged abuses took place.

“It’s really dire. So many people are being harmed by Canadian mining companies overseas, and we have no place in Canada for them to have their cases heard,” Coumans said.

In December 2023, an Ontario judge ruled that a lawsuit against Barrick Gold, filed on behalf of 32 Tanzanian plaintiffs, would not be heard in Canada. Instead, the case—alleging severe human rights abuses at Barrick’s North Mara mine—was dismissed on jurisdictional grounds, with the judge determining it should be heard in Tanzania.

“This is a major setback for the plaintiffs and raises serious concerns about whether Canadian courts will ever hold Canadian mining companies accountable for overseas abuses,” Coumans said.

The case, which centred on allegations of excessive use of force by mine security, was never even debated on its merits. Instead, Barrick managed to argue that, despite being headquartered in Canada, it was not sufficiently “present” in the country to warrant a trial in Canadian courts.

The ruling reinforces an already troubling reality.

“It will create a chill on new cases being brought forward against Canadian mining companies for harm they are alleged to have done overseas,” Coumans warned.

As Deneault puts it, “You are told to go seek justice in Tanzania, Mali, or other countries where the legal system has already been compromised—often by the very corporations you are fighting.”

This system exposes a fundamental truth about Canada’s governance.

“If Canada were a true democracy—which I do not believe it is—it would establish an independent commission to investigate the actions of its mining companies abroad,” Deneault said.

Such a commission, with the power to compel corporate testimony and enforce reparations, would be a necessary first step toward accountability.

feature imageAcademic Endorsement of the Mining Machinefeature image

As early as 2006, McGill has partnered with mining giants like Barrick, Rio Tinto, Vale, and Dec. 31, 2024, McGill continues to hold investments in Barrick Gold Corp., owning 211,755 shares through segregated accounts and pooled funds. The university also collaborates with the destructive corporation through its Holding Institutions Accountablefeature image

Universities justify these partnerships by claiming financial necessity, arguing that student fees and government funding are insufficient.

“They are very willing to take that funding and not look too hard at the track record of the companies that are offering the money,” Coumans explained.

The result is a system in which institutions of higher learning, which should be sites of critical inquiry and ethical leadership, become complicit in whitewashing corporate crimes.

“If you name any major ethical issue in the world today, you will find academics working to justify or enable it—whether through engineering, policy research, or even outright propaganda,” Deneault said. “Universities today present themselves as the brainpower of multinational corporations. The great challenge for them is to free themselves from financial power and reclaim their role as spaces of critical inquiry rather than corporate training grounds.”

The time has come for McGill to face its reckoning. It must divest from blood-stained industries, address its complicity, and start fostering an academic environment that does not simply serve the interests of multinational corporations, but prioritizes the well-being of the communities they have harmed. The university cannot claim to champion justice while benefiting from industries that commit atrocities.

McGill’s continued entanglement with the mining industry is not just a financial issue—it is a moral failure.

*Quotes from Alain Deneault were translated from French.
Off the Board

My cultural identity is not dependent on a language

by Auxane Bussac on

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A few weeks ago, my friend Toscane and I were stopped by a man who asked us if we were French. With our affirmative response, he excitedly expressed his love for our accent before noticing the Hamsa pendant on my necklace. Also called the Hand of Fatima, the Hamsa symbol is popular in North Africa where it is believed to ward off evil and bad luck. The man then asked me: “Are you Moroccan?” When I answered that my mom was, his face lit up, and he started speaking to us in Arabic. I apologized and politely explained that I unfortunately didn’t speak the language—and his disappointment was obvious. 

I am all too familiar with this kind of situation. I feel proud when people ask if I am Moroccan, but that feeling quickly fades when I cannot interact with them in the language. The shame I feel in those moments makes me wonder if it’s even fair to mention that I have some Moroccan blood.

My mom was born and mostly raised in Rabat. From her name and her looks, you can immediately tell that she’s from North Africa. I, however, inherited my last name from my French father, meaning that, on paper, my tie to Morocco is mostly invisible. My name is Auxane Nawel Bussac, but my Arabic middle name exists only on my passport; even my McGill ID does not show it. At times, I have been called  “white-passing” because, despite my curly hair, you wouldn’t assume that I am anything other than French—my little brother took all the Moroccan genes. 

Some part of me has always been frustrated that I cannot prove my heritage without showing a picture of my mother’s side of the family. Only the oldest four of my 14 cousins got to spend their summers at my grandparents’ house in Rabat, learning about Moroccan culture and their roots; The rest of us didn’t have that opportunity. I have visited my grandparents many times, but only ever briefly, spending most of our time in the house speaking French, and never getting the chance to interact with anyone in Arabic.

Compared to my aunts and uncles who actively practice their heritage, my mom barely identifies with Morocco. She went to a French high school while living in Rabat, then left the country when she was 18, and rarely speaks Arabic anymore. While raising my brother and me, however, she did occasionally throw in some words of Arabic, especially when she was mad. Every one of those moments reminded us of our mother’s Arabic past. One that was only hers, and couldn’t be ours. She was never very open to talking about that side of her, widening the gap between her culture and my brother and me.

I don’t speak Arabic. My brother and I have both tried to learn, but never with any consistency. But that does not mean I can’t relate to my Arab heritage. I might not be Moroccan, but my mom is, and I firmly believe that this in itself is a core part of my identity as well. When I find myself in a situation where people are disappointed that I don’t know Arabic, I remember that I watched the 2018 World Cup Final in a Moroccan lounge at a distant aunt’s place in Rabat. That specific moment, and all the others that I spent with the Moroccan side of my family, are proof that I do belong, whether or not I speak Arabic

I am not Moroccan, but I am not not Moroccan either. I don’t mind standing in the middle. This blend might even be a gift, a sign from my middle name Nawel, which means “gift” or “unmerited favour of God.” One day, I’d love to learn Arabic—but until then, if asked about my origins, I will proudly say that I am part Moroccan, on my mom’s side, without feeling ashamed. 

Arts & Entertainment, Theatre

McGill Classics Department wields love to explore Medea’s story in ‘The Argonautica’

by Norah Adams on

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The ancient Greek figure of Medea likely makes your skin crawl with discomfort—or maybe causes you to shiver with morbid curiosity. For how could a woman, scorned nevertheless, be pushed to the extreme of killing her own children? 

Euripides’ play, Medea, features such a story, where the titular character’s heartbreak results in filicide, a starkly violent and unthinkable act. With these grim expectations, when the McGill Classics Department’s rendition of the same character’s story begins, I am surprised to be met with a tale focused more on the complexities of love than murder. 

Throughout the play, Jason’s Argonauts share an easy camaraderie. They roughhouse, hug—and most importantly, sing sea shanties—all like an affectionate, albeit slightly rag-tag, family. Medea, an often villainized character, is provided space through which she demonstrates how much she cares for the important people in her life, such as her sister, Chalciope (Azmi Rizwan Aandi) and even her viciously strict father, Aeetes (Vincent Carrier). 

These familial feelings are not just present amid the writing of the adaptation by Carys Foulds and Jericho O’Keeffe, but within the cast and crew as a whole. 

“We tried to foster an environment where it felt a lot more collaborative,” O’Keeffe said in an interview with The Tribune.  

From scene to scene, an atmosphere of synergistic energy is unmistakable. The actors on stage seem to be genuinely having a blast. Each moment of banter traded between crewmates reads utterly believable as the actual companionships of the cast members shine through.

As I watch the play, I can’t help but feel that I am watching one big, theatrically imbued hangout between friends. 

Love stands at the forefront of the show, from Mopsus’s (Laura D’Angelo, Arts) prophetic relationship with their bird to the two stars’—Young Medea (Siobhan Wright) and Jason (Marissa Miller Sommer)—budding romance. I was stirred to wonder what led the directors to shift from the clash of swords to the quiet weight of longing and loss. Why they chose to let Medea’s story take precedence, while Jason’s remained in the background: Was it simply a change in perspective or a radical feminist retelling? 

The directors/adapters of the play shed light on the prevalence of undervalued and even misrepresented women characters in ancient Greek literature. One such character is Penelope from Homer’s Odyssey, who governed Ithaca for 20 years while waiting for Odysseus to stop getting blown off course and return home. In developing their version of The Argonautica, it was essential to O’Keeffe and Foulds that they offered Medea the opportunity to tell her own story of how she ended up in such a brutal place. 

The play is ultimately successful in attending to women’s often unnoticed but essential role in driving men forward in Greek epics. In Apollonius of Rhode’s depiction of Medea’s character, Hera divinely forces her to help Jason by making her fall in love with him. 

This is not the Medea onstage at Mainline Theatre. Armed with autonomy, she herself decides to help the hero, and only because of a wish to aid Chalciope; it is a strong sisterly relationship that leads her to take action. The production also removed a majority of violence from the story, the most notable missing piece being Medea’s murder of her children. The show instead ends with the woman getting the final word before walking off, finally able to tell the tale herself.

From translating an Ancient Greek epic to turning up the lights on show night, this play is Carys Foulds and Jericho O’Keeffe’s child. And like Medea, they killed it!
The Argonautica played from Feb. 5-8 at Mainline Theatre.

Arts & Entertainment, Film and TV

Overlooked moments of love take centre stage in shōjo anime 

by Bianca Sugunasiri on

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Some of the most precious moments of love are those which precede the first text, the first date, the first kiss. The first butterflies, the first blush, the first compliment that has you kicking your feet in bed. These moments tend to be insignificant in romance media, eclipsed by the overwhelmingness of all that comes after. Compounded with the emerging trend of “nonchalant” romance, where emotional expression is often downplayed, these elusive moments appear even less. Even valiant efforts to prevent women characters from having overly man-centric ambitions can be misconstrued as devaluing a desire for love—all of which nudges these moments further from the spotlight. 

Unless you are an avid fan, you probably associate anime with one of two things: “That white-haired dude” or cartoons. In reality, anime is a diverse selection of media that displays dedication, artistry, and novel ideas. Often the shows are defined by the intended audience, rather than by genre. One example is shōjo anime, targeted towards adolescent and young adult women, and often characterized by its focus on love: Both platonic and romantic. Although there can be a non-romantic complimentary plot, the spotlight remains on the minutiae of the relationships between characters. Because of this, the genre is often written off as frivolous or insignificant, overshadowed by the popularity of shōnen, which targets young men with traditional hero’s journey narratives. 

However, some recent shōjo seasons released this month serve as perfect arguments to the contrary. 

Season 2 of Apothecary Diaries started airing on Jan. 10. It follows the adventures of Maomao, the poison taster of the rear palace around 15th-century China. Her sharp wit and adept curiosity allow her to discover threats before they come to fruition. In a subversion of traditional gender roles, she is both oblivious and indifferent in the face of romance, seeing everything through a logical and tactical lens. In contrast, one of the head administrators, Jinshi, is expressive and emotional such that everyone in the palace knows of his admiration for her, except Maomao herself. 

In typical shōjo fashion, the show highlights the part of relationships that are never really featured in mainstream romance: The simple development of affinity towards someone. There are numerous interactions that precede flirting: Flickering moments of romance—inconsequential conversations of Maomao eagerly explaining an apothecary principle to Jinshi, who listens in fascination, entranced by her passion—become all the more potent. It would be easy to write it off as boring if you overlook the importance of these moments; there’s something inexplicably sweet about a human investing themselves in the interests of another. That is the magic of shōjo: It portrays the menial and unnoticed, within which the sweetest aspects of human affection are hidden. 

Similarly, Honey Lemon Soda, which began streaming on Jan. 8, offers another example of the beauty of shōjo. This anime features the classic high school setting, and follows a slice-of-life style plot; nothing extravagant happens beyond the everyday interactions in school life. The protagonist is Ishimori Uka, a shy girl who is so desensitized to bullying that all she wishes to do is remain “still as a stone.” At her new high school, she hopes things will be different but believes she doesn’t deserve much kindness. Miura Kai is the sleepy, carefree popular boy in her class, who takes it upon himself to help her become the person she most wants to be. His advice to her is clear: “Ask someone for help.” The common response would have been to ‘toughen up’ and find a way to deal with it on her own; instead, she remains her wonderfully shy self and gradually works towards her goal of finding her voice, even when she believes she doesn’t deserve it. This alternative characterization is a reminder that kindness, insecurity and reliance on another is equally brave.

Shōjo anime deserves all the respect for giving attention to the aspects of humanity that we deem weak and insignificant. It is a reminder that to show care for another is one of the scariest, strongest, and most human things you can ever do.

McGill, News

Self-proclaimed anarchists claim responsibility for smashing windows of five buildings across campus

by Daniel Miksha on

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At 8:15 p.m. on Feb. 5, a group of approximately 40 people smashed over 30 windows and tagged the Leacock Building, the McCall MacBain Arts Building, and the James Administration Building. The self-described anarchists entered campus from Rue McTavish with a banner reading, “Colonial institutions will fall.” Despite being on campus for less than 15 minutes, their actions disrupted classes and exams, including a CHEM120 midterm in Leacock 132 that evening. 

Alex*, U0 Arts, was writing a midterm in Leacock when the group began smashing windows. A bystander informed teaching assistants about the windows being broken outside the lecture hall, and instructed students who had finished the midterm to leave through a different exit.

“We just heard this glass smashing and people talking. And then this girl comes in, and she starts talking to one of the TAs and then all these people start running towards the door, and they just start telling us, ‘You can’t, you can’t get out from that door,’” Alex told The Tribune. 

An anonymous group of anarchists claimed responsibility for the vandalism, posting a statement online the next day that clarified their intent to destabilize the university. 

“For us, McGill is nothing but a symbol of a colonial and capitalist system, of which we call for the complete destruction. We encourage our comrades to extend the struggle towards the destruction of all oppressions, and to continue escalating towards revolution,” the statement read.

The statement explicitly denounced McGill’s New Vic Project and its historical involvement with MK-ULTRA mind control experiments, the university’s choice not to divest from companies with ties to Israel in December 2024, and the university’s choice to uproot a white pine tree planted during a Haudenosaunee peace ceremony in November 2024.

Independent journalist Cheï Lévesque, who followed the vandals as they entered campus, confirmed with The Tribune that the group was affiliated with an unspecified anarchist movement.

“My guess as to their motive is as good as [anyone’s], but it seems to be pointing to a myriad of ‘intersectional’ causes,” Lévesque wrote to The Tribune. “There was mention of ‘genocide,’ ‘warmongering,’ ‘financing genocide’ etc. chanted so I feel it is very connected to the Uni’s financing and investments [….] They also chanted stuff about [All Cops are Bastards].”

McGill’s Media Relations Office (MRO) provided a written statement to The Tribune condemning the events, claiming they caused panic among students, faculty, and staff.

“These acts were intended to intimidate our campus community and bully us into changing the University’s decision regarding proposals from some to Boycott, Divest and Sanction (BDS) the State of Israel,” the MRO wrote. “The University’s position rejecting BDS remains clear and firm.”

The BDS movement is a coalition of over 170 Palestinian unions, refugee networks, and civic groups that aims to challenge international support of Israel, and its genocide in Palestine. Representatives of BDS have recently criticized McGill for hosting companies who contribute to Israel’s surveillance and manufacturing industries at their Engineering TechFair, and for refusing to divest from corporations connected to Israel through arms manufacturing.

In their statement, the anarchists responsible for the vandalism underscored what they believe to be their right to property destruction as a form of civil disobedience in response to McGill’s refusal to accept the BDS movement’s demands.

“In the face of [McGill’s] condescension and their attachment to continuing the genocide, we say: Those who make peaceful revolution impossible will make violent revolution inevitable!” the statement read.

At the moment, it is unclear what the cost of the vandalism will be for McGill, or what the timeline for repairs will look like. 

Leaving their exam in Leacock minutes after the anarchists smashed the building’s windows, Alex was thinking more about their midterm than about the motives behind the vandalism.

“I don’t know man,” Alex said. “It’s kind of crazy that that just had to happen while writing the midterm. I was just trying to get through that, and then you hear glass smashing. You get kind of paranoid. It’s kind of crazy.”

*Alex’s name was changed to preserve their identity.

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