The word “monumental” has been impossible to avoid in discussions around The Brutalist, the latest feature film by former actor Brady Corbet. It’s been cemented as a frontrunner in the Oscar race after winning Best Motion Picture (Drama) at the Golden Globes and picking up 10 Oscar nominations. Keeping in line with this scandal-filled Oscar season, online uproar began just a few days after the ceremony when film editor Dávid Jancsó revealed that he used artificial intelligence to assist in refining the actors’ Hungarian accents.
And yet, none of these factors deterred my interest in the film—not even the 215-minute runtime, an impressive length that has reportedly scared off Oscar voters. In fact, the discourse surrounding The Brutalist made me eagerly await spending an entire afternoon in the movie theatre, immersing myself in its world.
The film is centred around László Tóth (Adrien Brody), a Jewish Hungarian architect who survives the Holocaust and arrives in America to begin a new life. When a wealthy patron, Harrison Van Buren (Guy Pearce), contracts Tóth for his architectural talent, he is warily immersed into upper-class society. However, this does not come easily as he grapples with antisemitism in his new home. Unusually, there is an intermission that splits the film into two distinct parts that give the film a unique appeal. The arrival of Tóth’s wife, Erzsébet (Felicity Jones), marks the second half and a major tonal shift as the reality of the American Dream comes crashing down around him.
In a time when Netflix blockbusters can cost $200 million USD, Corbet worked with a budget of just $10 million USD. This is made more impressive upon learning it was primarily shot on VistaVision filmstock, a process made popular by Hitchcock that hasn’t been used since 1961. The fact that I could watch the movie in 70mm—the intended high-resolution film format—was all the more exciting. There is a meta element as the film deals with tension between patron and client, similar to Corbet’s difficulties getting his work made and financed.
As much as the level of detail and care for the craft spoke to me, I did not love The Brutalist as much as I had hoped to. The second half felt emotionally distant from the first, largely due to a particularly violent plot point that left an emotional impression but felt too literal in its message. The cinematography remained stunning, especially a sequence in an Italian marble mine where long takes linger on the enormous slabs of marble that tower over the characters accessing them.
Visually, The Brutalist is astounding. The stark and cold brutalist architecture mirrors the film’s themes of isolation and patronage. The VistaVision cinematography makes every frame feel grand through its widescreen format. Daniel Blumberg’s score is a highlight; its main theme is imposing and memorable which works with the brutalist aesthetic at its core.
Brody holds the film steady and delivers a deeply committed and emotionally raw performance as László that is worthy of a second Academy Award. Pearce plays the eccentric Harrison Van Buren, whose complicated relationship and patronage over Tóth is fascinating to watch as it develops and gradually crumbles.
For all its aesthetic precision and committed performances, the emotional core feels somewhat lacking by the time the credits roll, and I was left unfulfilled by the epilogue. The political message is convoluted as the speaker switches out of László’s perspective to his niece who moved to Israel and is now introducing his work in a retrospective years later. In a darkly ironic move, László can no longer speak for his work, and it is now interpreted only in perspective to the trauma he has endured.
Despite personal reservations, The Brutalist remains an audacious and admirable achievement. It’s a rare film that demands patience and rewards close attention, a testament to Corbet’s vision and the power of cinema as an art form.
The human genome is more than just a blueprint of DNA and RNA—it is a complex network of molecules working together to regulate the processes that keep us alive. These hidden architects are critical for cell function and gene expression. Recent research has begun to shed light on how they might also be associated with mental health disorders.
While the human genome primarily encodes proteins, it also produces a variety of non-coding RNAs—molecules that do not directly code for proteins but instead regulate gene expression. These non-coding RNAs can be classified by size into small and long categories. Among the small non-coding RNAs are microRNAs, short sequences with regulatory functions, and snoRNAs.
SnoRNAs are typically known for their role in modifying ribosomal RNAs, influencing their stability and function. However, emerging research suggests they may have broader functions, particularly in the brain.
“We decided to compile growing information on the role of these small nucleolar RNAs in relation to brain-related phenomena, particularly in the area of mental health,” Turecki explained in an interview with The Tribune.
This review was motivated by one of his previous studies on a specific snoRNA, SNORD90. This snoRNA differs from its typical function in that it regulates glutamatergic signalling in the brain, which is associated with how well patients respond to antidepressant treatment.
The link between these snoRNA molecules and neurological disorders is increasingly clear. Research has shown that a total of 80 different snoRNAs are associated with autism spectrum disorder, while another 25 are linked to schizophrenia. These findings suggest that snoRNAs could be key players in mental health, influencing brain functions in ways we are only beginning to understand.
However, studying snoRNAs in the context of mental health presents significant practical challenges.
“If I want to study what changes in the brain as a function of treatment or as a result of improvement, I cannot take a sample of a patient’s brain,” Turecki said.
Researchers must rely on indirect methods to examine molecular changes in the brain. One approach involves examining molecular markers—biological signatures that provide indirect insights into brain function. Another method is postmortem brain tissue analysis, though this comes with inherent limitations as the brain may change after death.
“There are a number of challenges in accessing the tissue after death,” Turecki explained. “Several things can happen between the moment you wish to study the brain and the moment that person dies.”
In recent years, scientists have also turned to extracellular vesicles (EVs)—tiny particles released by brain cells that carry molecular cargo. These vesicles circulate in peripheral bodily fluids, offering a potential glimpse into brain activity.
While research in this field is still in its early stages, the potential applications of snoRNAs are promising.
“One of the things I like a lot about working with small non-coding RNA is that they […] can act as therapeutic agents,” Turecki said.
Because these molecules are relatively easy to detect, manipulate, and target, they present a promising avenue in the field of RNA therapeutics. SnoRNA research is not only helpful for understanding the mechanisms of illness but could also open new doors for developing innovative treatments.
As the field progresses, snoRNAs may emerge as important biomarkers for diagnosing psychiatric disorders and as potential targets for treatment interventions.
Bone surgeries, particularly total hip replacement (THA) and total knee arthroplasty (TKA), are common procedures for treating advanced joint conditions like arthritis and avascular necrosis. While these surgeries are highly effective, they are also invasive and resource-intensive, posing challenges for healthcare systems striving to manage costs. However, with the emergence of new surgical techniques and advancements, the average length of hospital stays for these procedures has decreased.
The demand for hip and knee replacements among patients over 65 has been projected to rise significantly due to an increase in Canada’s aging population. In 2019–2020, TKA surgeries alone cost Canada’s healthcare system $700 million CAD, with each inpatient procedure averaging $12,223 CAD.
As these surgeries become more common, healthcare systems are under increasing pressure to find cost-effective solutions to expand access to care. One potential option is same-day discharge arthroplasty, also known as outpatient TKA, where patients have the procedure and go home on the same day. A recent study investigated the cost differences between outpatient and inpatient TKA to assess whether this approach could help alleviate some of the financial strain while maintaining the quality of care.
The study was led by Simon Martel, a fifth-year chief resident in Orthopedic Surgery, and involved researchers from McGill’s Department of Surgery.
The research team examined the costs associated with both outpatient and inpatient TKA by analyzing data from 50 patients—25 treated as outpatients and 25 as inpatients—at a Canadian academic centre. To measure the costs accurately, the team used an activity-based costing (ABC) framework, which breaks down the total resources and expenses involved in patient care.
The findings reveal that inpatient care was more expensive than outpatient care, mainly due to the costs of hospital admissions and associated services like pharmacy use. While outpatient care was slightly more expensive in terms of operating room logistics, it avoided the costs associated with hospital stays, such as room charges and prolonged nursing care. By shifting to outpatient procedures, healthcare systems could reduce the strain on hospital resources, allowing for more patients to receive timely surgeries.
“For fairly healthy patients, there’s no difference in their long-term outcome, whether they stay at the hospital for a few days or whether they’re sent home,” Martel said in an interview with The Tribune.
However, to qualify for outpatient hip and knee replacement surgery, patients must be in good overall health, be motivated to participate in physical therapy after surgery, and have a supportive environment for post-operative recovery and rehabilitation.
The study also found that both outpatient and inpatient groups experienced similar rates of complications and follow-up visits, confirming that outpatient procedures are equally safe when patients are carefully selected. In an era of nursing shortages across North America, reducing post-operative hospital stays for elective joint surgeries could significantly ease the strain on healthcare systems and improve access to orthopedic care.
“The majority of their progress occurs two weeks after the surgery and continues for up to six weeks, so whether they stay in the hospital [overnight] or not, we don’t see much difference in their recovery period,” Martel explained.
If half of Canada’s knee replacement procedures were to transition to the outpatient model, the healthcare system could save over $45 million CAD annually. In addition to the financial savings, outpatient TKA would alleviate hospital burden, improve access to timely surgeries, and address critical workforce challenges, such as nursing shortages.
While these findings are promising, the study has some limitations, such as its single-centre design and small sample size. Larger studies across diverse healthcare settings are needed to confirm the results and evaluate the broader applicability of outpatient TKA.
“If you can save $1,000 [CAD], or 50 per cent of post-operative costs per case, it adds up to a significant amount,” Martel added.
Growing up, I had near-perfect attendance. In Grade 1, my school pre-emptively excused us all due to a blizzard forecasted for the next day. But my dad and I still crunched stubbornly through the snowfall the following morning, where he deposited me with the only teacher who had managed to trek in. I spent the whole day in the Grade 6 classroom, reverently listening to the teacher read Hatchet by Gary Paulson aloud.
When I got concussed during recess in Grade 5, my dad took me to the emergency clinic, made sure I didn’t need to be hospitalized, and then dropped me back at school right in time for last period. My Senior Skip Day filled me with immense anxiety: I had dropped the family mantle by playing hooky.
But at university, I have absolutely none of these qualms (sorry, Dad!). The agency that cutting class can give you, the productivity it can foster, and the mental hygiene it can support are truly magical. Last semester, when I was juggling six classes, ditching certain ones not only allowed me to effectively manage my academic and personal commitments; it kept me sane.
Skipping can’t just be done willy-nilly, though. It’s “strategic”: There are certain courses that you simply can and can’t be skipping while still aiming for academic achievement. Last semester’s 8:30 a.m. in Stewart Bio, recorded, with no participation grade? Perfect for a later catch-up. Conversely, any conference or small 400-level should never be missed; racking up all possible attendance points in such a class is crucial. Overall, the better you can gaslight yourself into believing it was necessary or appropriate to sleep through your Monday morning lecture or ignore your Tuesday afternoon class, the less guilt you’ll feel skipping.
All jokes aside, I’m a big fan of the strategic skip. Skipping class can immensely increase your capacity as both a student and a person. It’s important to rest and refocus your mind in the face of McGill’s rigorous academic environment. Occasionally skipping a class whose content you’re sure you can learn on your own when you’re feeling mentally overwhelmed can actually help you do your best. You won’t retain any information in class when you’re too stressed, anyway. Whether ditching to lock in at the library or to enjoy a hot dog on the Redpath Museum steps, this form of skip allows you to clear your brain and be more present moving forward.
And now we get to my favourite part of skipping class: It reminds me of how much I actually want to be there. The greatest privilege of my life is to get to learn. To be at university, taught by incredible faculty among really bright people, is something I feel lucky for every single day. The relationships you can build with profs, TAs, and peers by going to class are often more worthwhile than even the greatest skip. At a school as large as McGill, feeling like people know you and are personally there to support your learning is a huge win—one that can’t be realized without showing up for them, too.
I am a firm believer in committing as best as you can to all you’ve signed up for, and in seizing all the opportunities you are privileged enough to have in reach. This means that skipping—while more necessary than profs and admin might believe—must be done with the greatest discretion. Which is why I really don’t do it all that much. It’s an ace in the hole for reevaluating academic priorities from time to time, but shouldn’t stand in for the fulfillment a good class provokes. Ultimately, the chance to learn something transformative and be suspended in wonder is what inspires me to show up and stay in class. I will never forget the enthrallment six-year-old me felt getting to sit beside older kids on that snow day, all of us hanging onto every word of Hatchet. At its best, a university class inspires that very same feeling: An overwhelming gratitude for being in the exact right room, at the exact right moment, with the exact right students, out of all the places and times and people in this world. I hope you feel that too.
Chop a cup of pecans and spread evenly onto a baking sheet. Put the baking sheet into the preheated oven for 6 minutes, shaking the pan lightly to toss the pecans halfway through.
Cream the butter, sugar, and vanilla extract together in the bowl of a stand mixer.
Add the flour, cinnamon and salt to the bowl and mix on a low speed until incorporated. Be careful not to over-mix.
Pour in the chopped, toasted pecans, and mix on low until just combined.
Form dough into balls. The dough will be crumbly so press it firmly; this will help achieve a perfect crumbly texture.
Place the dough balls on a lined baking sheet, and bake for 17 minutes.
Sometimes, studying on campus feels impossible. The library is too crowded, your apartment is too loud, and the thought of another hour in the McLennan basement under fluorescent lights feels soul-crushing. That’s when you know it’s time to pack up your laptop and headphones and head to one of these gems around McGill. They’re more than just places to grab coffee—they’re sanctuaries where deadlines somehow feel less daunting.
This spot flips the script on traditional cafes—you pay for the time, not the coffee. At $3 CAD an hour, you get unlimited coffee, tea, snacks, and Wi-Fi, all in a cozy space perfect for marathon study sessions. I once cranked out an entire term paper here with nothing but their green tea and a plate of cookies to fuel me. The vibe? Chill but focused—like everyone’s quietly rooting for you to finish your work.
#2Second Cup: Across from McGill, Away from Stress
Right across from campus, Second Cup is where you’ll always find at least one friend (or a classmate avoiding their reading list). The spacious seating and soft background music make it a solid spot for light studying or group projects. Pro tip: Order the caramel corretto—it’s comfort in a cup, especially on a dreary winter day.
Gerts isn’t just a bar. By day, it’s a cozy café where you can grab coffee or a bite between classes. It’s run by students, for students, which means you’ll always feel like you belong. I once spent a rainy afternoon here going over econ notes while sipping the cheapest (but surprisingly good) latte on campus.
Rosetti is where you go when you need a little beauty to inspire your brain. The minimalist design, soft lighting, and insanely good pastries make it a treat for all the senses. The first time I went, I meant to review lecture slides but ended up spending half the time admiring their latte art. Aesthetic distractions aside, the calm vibe makes it perfect for focused work.
This cozy spot on Peel Street is like studying in your favourite aunt’s living room—if your aunt had excellent coffee and fresh pastries on hand. The plush chairs and warm lighting create the perfect atmosphere for hunkering down with a long reading list. Bonus: their chocolate chip muffins might just be the best in the area.
If you’re in desperate need of calm, Leaves House is your escape. Imagine greenery everywhere, vegan treats that taste way better than you’d expect, and herbal teas that smell like a warm hug. The day before my history final, I came here to decompress, and I swear the lavender tea saved me from a breakdown.
This is the café for true coffee aficionados. Humble Lion’s espresso is the stuff of legends, and their minimalist setup means you won’t be distracted by anything except your work (or maybe the sunlight streaming through the windows). It’s a small space, so come early if you want a spot.
If the harsh fluorescent lights of Schulich Library aren’t your vibe, Tommy Café offers a much-needed escape. With its cozy and inviting atmosphere, the second floor is a standout—complete with soft green couches and an ambiance that feels like a warm hug. It’s the perfect daytime retreat for unwinding or tackling some studying between classes. Just a heads-up: The top floor closes at 5 PM, so plan your visit accordingly.
Tucked inside a lively, cafeteria-style hub, Le Cathcart offers an eclectic array of dining and café options to suit every craving. From the swift, energizing brews at Café Veloce to the hearty, brain-fueling bites at Dirty Greens, there’s something here for everyone. What sets Le Cathcart apart is its versatility as a study and hangout spot. Whether you thrive in open spaces buzzing with energy, or prefer a secluded, dimly lit corner to focus, you’ll find your perfect nook. This dynamic space effortlessly combines vibrant food with cozy spots for productivity or relaxation.
SoLIT Café is a stunning study spot that feels like stepping into a serene urban oasis. With delicate lights intertwined with leaves hanging from the ceiling, the ambiance is both enchanting and inspiring. During the warmer months, their beautiful outdoor seating area adds an extra layer of charm—though that may feel like a distant dream on colder days. While the café has a no-computer policy (not strictly enforced), it’s an ideal place for diving into textbooks, catching up on class readings, or simply enjoying a mindful moment with a book.
Each of these spots has a personality of its own, just like the students who frequent them. Whether you’re cramming for midterms or procrastinating on a paper (it happens), these cafes are more than just places to study—they’re a little slice of comfort during the chaos. So, grab your laptop, find your perfect nook, and let the productivity—or procrastination—begin.
Although I’ve never lived in Italy, my childhood summers there often brought me to my grandmother’s kitchen in Milan—a space filled with the warmth of simmering pots and her endless patience. Those visits, though fleeting, were transformative. Her kitchen wasn’t just where meals were made; it was where she passed down her culinary wisdom, one dish at a time. Out of all her recipes, her Pumpkin Risotto remains my favourite, a dish that perfectly captures the cozy simplicity of Northern Italian cooking. It highlights the natural sweetness of pumpkin, the nutty richness of parmesan, and the earthy aroma of sage. Like my grandmother herself, it’s both humble and elegant. As she often reminds me, “//A good risotto takes patience—just like life//”
Ingredients
(Serves 4-6)
2 tbsps olive oil
1 small onion, finely chopped
1 cup Arborio rice
1/2 cups dry white wine
4 cups vegetable or chicken stock, kept warm
1 cup roasted pumpkin, pureed
1 tbsp butter
1/2 cup freshly grated Parmesan cheese
6-8 fresh sage leaves, fried until crisp
Salt and pepper, to taste
Instructions
Prepare the base: Heat olive oil in a large saucepan over medium heat. Add the onion and cook until softened, about 5 minutes.
Toast the rice: Stir in the Arborio rice, coating it with oil, and cook for 2-3 minutes until slightly translucent.
Deglaze with wine: Add the white wine, stirring constantly until it’s mostly absorbed.
Add the stock gradually: Begin adding the warm stock, one ladle at a time, stirring continuously until the stock is absorbed before adding more. This process should take about 20 minutes.
Incorporate the pumpkin: Stir in the roasted pumpkin puree and cook for another 5 minutes, ensuring the risotto remains creamy.
Finish with butter and cheese: Remove from heat and gently fold in the butter and Parmesan. Season with salt and pepper to taste.
Serve with sage: Garnish each bowl with fried sage leaves for an aromatic and crunchy finish.
Why It Works
This risotto is a reflection of my grandmother’s philosophy: Quality ingredients and mindful preparation are the keys to great food. The slow process of adding stock and stirring is meditative, allowing you to fully engage with the dish as it comes together. The final result is a velvety, comforting risotto that pairs perfectly with a glass of wine and crusty bread.
A Dish to Share
When I make this dish in my Montreal apartment, it feels like bringing a little piece of Italy into my home. It’s perfect for cozy nights with friends or as a way to treat yourself after a long day. Wherever you are, I hope this risotto brings you the same sense of comfort and connection that it does for me.
Concordia University recently announced the scheduled launching of a Minor in Black and African Diaspora Studies in the Canadian Context—the first Black Studies program in Quebec. This program, planned to start in Fall 2025, will contextualize Blackness through its local and global histories, cultures, and experiences. It aims to offer an academic space to explore and preserve Black histories, perspectives, and contributions to Canada. As a world-renowned institution, McGill has both the responsibility and the resources to follow suit and establish its own Black Studies program—one that would elevate Black scholarship and begin to reconcile the university’s long-standing institutional failures in addressing anti-Black racism. In the face of repeated demands for action by both students and faculty, and under their obligation as a signatory of the Scarborough Charter, McGill must demonstrate its commitment to inclusive and comprehensive post-secondary education.
This conversation is not new to the university; the Black Students’ Network (BSN) has been advocating for an Africana Studies program since 1991, when a proposal was initially submitted and rejected. In 2018, the BSN brought the initiative back once more, proposing a Black Studies program in the Faculty of Arts aimed at providing an interdisciplinary approach to African and African diasporic histories, cultures, and contributions across the world. McGill has yet to implement a Black Studies program of any kind.
While McGill offers separate African Studies, Latin American, and Caribbean Studies, and World Islamic and Middle Eastern Studies programs, a dedicated Black Studies program would bridge these fields and provide a more comprehensive perspective on global Blackness. Unlike the targeted areas of East Asian Studies or Russian Studies, McGill’s current African Studies program treats the entire continent as one undifferentiated entity, reinforcing the reductive conception of Africa as a monolith, despite its 54 diverse countries. McGill’s failure to establish a focused Black Studies program after all this time highlights its unwillingness to take the demands of its student body—and the anti-Black racism that persists within its institutions—seriously.
The issue is also epistemological. McGill’s study of Africa and the African diaspora often centres on colonialism, conflict, and crisis, rather than celebrating the intellectual, cultural, and historical richness of the continent and the diverse experiences of the Black diaspora. This gap is particularly concerning given Montreal’s long-established Haitian community whose contributions are absent from McGill’s curricula—a gap which represents a missed opportunity for students to understand the local and global dimensions of Black life.
Establishing a Black Studies program at McGill would not only enhance the university’s academic landscape but also set a powerful precedent. By creating such a program, McGill would affirm that Black studies are essential to academic rigour, prompting other Canadian universities to follow suit. A Black Studies program would also diversify the university’s intellectual and demographic makeup. This program has the potential to attract Black students and faculty with expertise, providing a space where they can engage with Black scholarship without the burden of justifying its place in the broader McGill curriculum or being tasked with the emotional and intellectual responsibility of educating their non-racialized peers.
McGill must also confront its history as an institution built on colonial wealth, including James McGill’s ties to slavery. The continued use of his name is a stark reminder of the university’s refusal to reckon with its past. Institutions worldwide have renamed themselves and their buildings associated with enslavers and colonial figures. McGill must do the same if it seeks to promote academic decolonization and address the historic role of higher education institutions in shaping knowledge about marginalized groups. The university has committed to fighting anti-Black racism through tangible institutional action, and a Black Studies program is the perfect way to enact this commitment. The push for a Black Studies program is also part of a broader call to action: McGill must prioritize hiring more Black faculty, encourage Black enrollment, and invest in long-term funding for Black academic research.
This field of study is not an optional niche; it is a vital part of the future of academia. If McGill is committed to providing a world-class education, it must prioritize a curriculum that authentically reflects the histories, cultures, and intellectual contributions of Black people worldwide.
The anatomy of Divest McGill’s successful student movement
Written by Shani Laskin, Managing Editor & Designed by Mia Helfrich, Design Editor
For over a decade, Divest McGill ignited defiance against institutional apathy. The student-led activist group, founded in 2012, took on the task of convincing McGill’s Board of Governors (BoG) to withdraw direct investments in the university’s endowment fund from the fossil fuel industry, specifically from the Carbon Underground 200 (CU200)—a list of the world’s top publicly-traded oil, coal, and gas companies based on the potency of their reserves.
Divest McGill used various tactics over 11 years, including sit-ins, walk-outs, petitions, an occupation, and formal presentations to the Board—which has the final say over all university affairs. In the process, the group galvanized thousands of McGill community members. Support for the movement came from both students and staff, including governing bodies such as the Students’ Society of McGill University (SSMU), the Post-Graduate Students’ Society (PGSS), and even the McGill Senate—the university’s highest democratic governing body. Despite this, the BoG remained steadfast against the demand for divestment.
Following divestment announcements from institutions such as Université Laval (ULaval), Université du Québec à Montréal (UQÀM), University of Toronto, and Harvard University, it was clear that McGill was lagging in taking a meaningful stance against the fossil fuel industry.
In Fall 2023, Divest McGill went quiet, in anticipation of a decision from McGill’s BoG.
Then, on Dec. 14, 2023, the BoG approved a motion to divest from direct holdings in CU200 companies. The university had seemingly heeded the calls of dissent.
But what made the BoG change its tune after years of opposition?
Divest’s actions can be understood as a network of pressure on the BoG. Consistent efforts had kept this issue at the forefront of campus consciousness, building awareness as broader trends threatened McGill’s reputation as a leader in sustainability. Divest’s assets were the longevity of the movement, support from the McGill community, ultimately including administration insiders, and just the right amount of reputational damage to the university to make the BoG listen. Though universities are often quick to dismiss student activism, Divest’s successes make it clear that with the right mix of strategy and circumstance, these movements make change.
The early days
Divest McGill started as just a few activists committed to calling for institutional divestment. They saw this approach as both a move toward sustainability and a strong political stance that could chip away at societal acceptance of the fossil fuel industry. At the time, there was little precedent for institutional divestment from fossil fuels in Canada, but calls for change were beginning to emerge.
“It’s about having a clear moral message that profiting off climate change is wrong,” David Summerhays, B.A. ’05 and an original member of Divest, told The Tribune.
The fledgling organization’s first steps were to appeal to the Board and gain community support. Summerhays explained the group’s first petition, pitched to what is now called the Board’s Committee on Sustainability and Social Responsibility (CSSR) in February 2013. They gathered 1,200 signatures for the motion, which called for the Investment Committee to get rid of its holdings in fossil fuels corporations within three years. To keep up the momentum, the group then hosted a Valentine’s Day rally calling for the university to “break up” with fossil fuels—the first of many campus demonstrations. Summerhays explained that the group’s initial actions were light-hearted, aimed at gaining the attention of the McGill community. As the group received rejection after rejection from the administration, however, their actions ramped up.
In April 2013, Divest McGill made its first formal presentation to the Board, outlining the social and environmental reasons that divestment was necessary. One month later, the Board unanimously denied the request. In 2015, Divest submitted a second petition, this time supported by 1,300 signatories and a 150-page report detailing the reasons that fossil fuel investment could constitute “social injury,” mandating the university to divest. The Board rejected this too. Summerhays told The Tribune that part of the group’s strategy following this second rejection was to better understand the Board and cater communications to their interests. According to Summerhays, the group was aided by a McGill administrator at the time, who helped clarify the opaque, bureaucratic processes of the Board.
“We had to both negotiate and get to know the administration and their ideas and sort of build pressure on them,” Summerhays said in an interview with The Tribune. “There just came a point where not only [were these] channels not working but also we just had the support of everybody.”
In the first five years of the campaign, Divest secured the support of the SSMU Legislative Council, PGSS, AUS, hundreds of professors, and many faculties including the Faculty of Arts and the Faculty of Law. Despite rejections from the administration, the McGill community was beginning to champion an institutional severance from fossil fuels.
Divestment goes mainstream
On the national level, divestment grew from a fringe idea into a tangible goal in the mid-2010s as charitable foundations, cities, and cultural, religious, and educational institutions started committing to divesting from fossil fuels.
In 2018, Divest achieved a major victory with an endorsement from the McGill Senate. SSMU President for the 2019-20 school year Bryan Buraga explained in an interview with The Tribune that the university was initially critical and concerned that the Senate was overstepping its purview.
“It actually came in the face of a lot of institutional pushback from the McGill administration, because at the time they were trying to say, ‘Oh, the Senate shouldn’t interfere with the Board of Governors. The Board of Governors is purely financial, whereas the Senate is academic,’” Buraga said. “But through intensive lobbying efforts […], we were able to successfully convince enough of the Senate members to vote in favour of this resolution for the first time, calling upon the Board of Governors to divest and I think that was a really big turning point.”
Buraga explained that SSMU even withheld a student levy for the administration’s Fiat Lux project, using the leverage of student government to express discontent with McGill’s decision to remain invested in fossil fuel companies.
“Admin was very much against fossil fuel divestment, saying that it was the purview of the Board and a lot of the board members are external—the majority of them are with various corporate ties,” Buraga said. “There’s also a paradigm in which politics is outside of the purview of finance. ‘We[’ve] just got to do what’s best, diversify, minimize financial risk, and that also includes investing in fossil fuels.’ That was very much the mentality at the time.”
From 2018 to 2020, rallies ensued even more frequently, including a months-long boycott of Metro Inc. because of BoG member Maryse Betrand’s role on the corporation’s Board of Directors. Around this time in 2019, McGill rejected a third motion to divest. In addition to student mobilization, professors Darin Barney and Derek Nystrom resigned from their positions on the Board due to its refusal to divest, and Greg Mikkelson, a tenured professor in the Bieler School of Environment, resigned from the university entirely.
The final push
“[These are] sustained campaigns,” Ashrafuzzaman said. “[McGill] can’t delay forever. Each [action or news article] chips away at their reputation, which they really love to preserve. Each little action makes some impact, especially when taken broadly in hindsight.”
Then in Fall 2023, Divest organizers received an invitation from a Board member to present again, pushing up the date that the Board had previously committed to reconsidering by two years. It seemed that the internal attitudes of the Board had shifted.
In September, three Divest members made their fourth formal presentation to the Board, this time with an invitation and an additional presentation from Political Science Professor Amy Janzwood. The students presented the moral, scientific, and political basis for divestment, including the precedents set by institutions like ULaval in 2017 and UQÀM in 2019.
“This presentation that we had given was basically done three times before us,” Emily Hardie, U3 Arts, and current Divest member said. “The evidence was already provided for years […] and that just really shows McGill’s continued hesitation to make this decision again—shows their weakness, which is that it’s really reputation that they are prioritizing.”
Janzwood added the financial reasons to divest including changing regulatory landscapes and that the fossil fuel industry in Canada is projected to decline.
“Moral arguments can be very persuasive, particularly around mobilizing students. But divestment is not just a moral issue, it’s also a financial one, and so making that argument, I think, works very nicely with the broader argument about reputational risk,” Janzwood said in an interview with The Tribune.
Janzwood explained that she also relayed the climate anxiety that her students face to the Board.
“I teach exclusively around environmental politics. I teach hundreds of students and every time I teach a course, I ask them how they are related to the climate crisis, how it makes them feel, and I’m always very affected by what they talk about,” Janzwood said. “And so I just concluded by reminding the Board how we are constantly [hearing from] the student body that climate anxiety, despair, dread, these are feelings that my students experience, sometimes on a daily basis.”
Divest’s campaign proved that students take the behind-the-scenes of McGill’s operations seriously, and are willing and able to engage in sustained mobilization for important causes. The movement’s actions set a precedent for the student body’s ability to question the institution’s financial investments and revealed McGill’s pressure points—publicity and reputation—to open avenues for future protest efforts.
“I think [the Board approaches this] sometimes, with the perspective that students are naive about the climate crisis, or naive about how systems work or how decisions like this are made,” Hardie said. “But the perspective that we’re coming from is that we ultimately care very much about preserving life and our collective well-being. And I don’t think it’s us being naive in any sense.”
Lesson Learned
“The perennial question for all divestment movements is the implementation, making sure that the university does what it says it will do. Transparency is always a concern,” Janzwood said.
According to the McGill Media Relations Office (MRO), the divestment process has already been completed. The university will detail the transition in a report slated to be released in April 2025.
“Though divestment from the McGill Investment Pool (MIP)’s minimal remaining direct CU200 holdings sends an important symbolic message, McGill has long held that maximizing its impact means minimizing its carbon footprint,” the MRO wrote to The Tribune. “This has involved shareholder engagement with companies on decarbonization targets, and focusing divestment efforts on firms that may not extract fossil fuels directly but use them in highly emissions-intensive industries (cement and steel manufacturers, coal and gas-fired electricity generators, and other firms that drive global fossil fuel demand).”
For student organizers such as Lola Milder, U3 Arts, and Hardie, the next steps are still unclear. To many organizers, however, Divest’s journey revealed what they see as an undemocratic structure of decision-making at the university.
“Especially because when so many hundreds, thousands of student hours have gone into asking these institutions, these forums, like the Board of Governors to divest […] you start to ask, maybe my hours are better spent trying to actually change the shape of this system,” Milder said. “Because right now, it seems like it does not bend to the community’s will or interest.”
What is noteworthy, however, is the success and longevity of Divest. Student movements are notoriously complicated due to high turnover as new students join and veteran organizers graduate. By sustaining the campaign, Divest McGill sent a clear message that the university can not simply wait out one cohort of passionate activists. Rather, the Board had to reckon with persistent student demands and the reality that divestment was a viable pathway.
“Divest McGill is a long-standing campaign [….] It was very visible, it was very sustained. These are hard things to do,” Janzwood said. “[With] student turnover, it is hard to keep the institutional memory alive.”
While students’ time at university is short, McGill’s eventual divestment from the CU200 shows that this time can still make an impact lasting long after graduation. Divest’s goal was lofty; one that the university may not have achieved had it not been for years of pressure, spearheaded by students called to fiercely question their institution.
Facing a genocidal siege, isolated entirely from the outside world, Gaza stood tall and unyielding for 466 days, imposing its own conditions of victory onto the occupier. On Oct. 7, 2023, Gazans broke down the colonial border fences surrounding their city for the first time in a historical confrontation against an occupying force. Over the following 15 months, Gaza’s unbreakable resistance to invasion, bombardment, and siege secured this legacy. Earned through popular struggle, last week’s ceasefire agreement is a culmination of all 76-plus years of ongoing resistance against Zionist occupation—a victory for all oppressed and colonized peoples across the world, cementing Gaza as a permanent thorn in Western colonial ambitions. We breathe a sigh of relief at the thought of our people finally able to rest, rebuild, and continue their fight. We honour all the brave martyrs who stood tall in the face of genocidal aggression. Our martyrs are heroes of a rare kind, and to them we owe the world.
We must now turn our attention to rising aggression on the West Bank, particularly in the resilient city of Jenin, known as “Gaza’s sister in resistance.” As of writing, the Israeli Occupation Forces have commenced their “Iron Wall” operation on Jenin, attempting to isolate the city and eradicate the armed resistance within. The spectre of genocidal violence, as illustrated within Gaza, looms over Jenin, as well as the whole West Bank. Furthermore, Israeli expansionist efforts are not limited to Palestine. The Zionist project, in alliance with the United States, continues its plans to expand its violence towards the broader Middle East, through occupations of Lebanon, invasions into Syria, bombings of Yemen, and threats towards Iran.
As the resistance in Gaza shattered Israel’s façade as a “beacon of liberal democracy” in the Middle East, so too did it illuminate the deep contradictions within our own university. Through increasingly desperate acts of repression, our McGill administrators have exposed their rabid commitment to profit and donor influence. Every disciplinary action, incident of police brutality, and million spent on public relations, private security, or lawsuits is proof of a long-lost battle to maintain public opinion against a student-led movement that has long since proven its resilience.
While our administration redirects student effort towards existing bureaucratic channels and false promises to “explore the question of divestment,” they have simultaneously ignored and undermined these same channels. Notably, our administration’s repeated interference in student governance has resulted in the overturning of initiatives like the Policy Against Genocide in Palestine and the removal of Students for Palestine’s Honour and Resistance (SPHR) as a McGill-affiliated student organization. Our student union has the potential to be a strong proponent of student demands for divestment, but through repeated legal threats facilitated under the Memorandum of Agreement, the McGill administration put massive pressure on our union, creating an atmosphere of inaction, depoliticization, and fear within student democracy.
It is more important than ever that the student movement stays mobilized, drawing strength from the steadfast people of Gaza to guide the fight here in the West, where our governments and institutions remain cogs in the settler occupation of Palestine. Over the past 15 months, we have drawn pivotal lessons from the heroic people of Palestine and each other, informing our strategies as we move forward. As the student movement enters this new chapter, our role is to etch the struggle for Palestinian liberation, return, and dignity into the history of McGill. Building on these lessons, we look to strong mass student coalitions, collective participation in demonstrations, and student governance as the tools of a prolonged fight for divestment. We eagerly anticipate student mobilization in the coming months, ensuring the Palestinian struggle for liberation and the heroic people of Gaza remain the north star of the student movement, settling for nothing less than total divestment, full academic boycott and an end to military research at McGill. What is coming is greater.
The early days
