Canadian identity has always been elusive; like a tentative adolescent, Canada seems unable to definitively grasp a self-image that resonates. But Canada, I sympathize. At only 21, I am more than familiar with that wrenching internal tension, swinging between the desire to conform while desperately seeking my own niche. 

Luckily for me, however, I had the opportunity to step away from all of those stresses that make finding an identity so difficult. Pressure to succeed in school and choose a career path, family expectations, and the suffocating high school reputation all washed away when I stepped onto the airplane to embark on my journey with Katimavik. 

Let me digress for a moment to clarify. ‘Katimavik’ has been a bit of a buzzword in Canadian media these past few days. Axed on March 29 by the federal budget, there has been a small whirlwind of online petitions, commentary, and tweets opposing the federal government’s move. Katimavik is a federally-funded program aimed at promoting civic engagement in youth, ages 17-21. Each Katimavik group is composed of 11 youths from across the country, representing the geographic, socio-economic and ethnic diversity of Canadians. For six months, these young Canadians live and volunteer together at a variety of community development projects across the country. The federal government cut the program, citing its new austerity measures and “excessive per-person costs.” 

It has been almost two years since I completed Katimavik, and I still am still reaping the benefits of the program. In the few months I spent in Katimavik, I worked at an animal shelter, volunteered at a seniors home, helped co-ordinate other volunteers at a youth community center, and participated in a literacy program at a francophone elementary school. Beyond the actual volunteer placements, I got an education unlike any academic institution could offer. From the mundane-learning to balance a household budget-to the exceptional-managing ethnically charged inter-personal conflicts-I grew more as an individual in the few months I spent in Katimavik than in my entire high school career. Perhaps most significantly, through Katimavik, I met other Canadians whose tireless work to better their community, contagious optimism, and unconditional generosity have left an indelible impression on me, and have fundamentally shaped who I am and who I aspire to be.

Despite the success of my particular experience, and the bitterness I feel knowing that other young Canadians will not have such an incredible opportunity, this isn’t just about Katimavik. This isn’t even just about the annual budget or adversarial, partisan politics. Canada is at a pivotal moment in deciding how it wants to be perceived both internationally and by its own citizens. Beyond political rhetoric or token symbols, true Canadian values are reflected in the policies we choose. Over Katimavik’s 30-plus years of operation we have seen the tens of thousands of youth travel the country, contribute to local community development, and take the time to reflect on their values to make an informed choice about who they want to be and how they want to contribute. Canada is on the cusp of the same decision, and we need to collectively choose what kind of country we want to build. If Canadians agree that Katimavik no longer has a place in our society, I can abide by that choice. But we need to be aware that the recent decisions made by our federal government reflect more than just mundane number crunching; these are the decisions that inform who we are as Canadians. The time for tentative adolescence is past.

-Alex Neville

Last Thursday, March 29, a motion was submitted to SSMU council proposing to censure SSMU’s VP External, JoÃl Pedneault.  The motion, moved by nine council members, only narrowly failed to pass, with  a vote of 11 for, 11 against, and one abstention. 

The Tribune believes the nine movers of the motion were unwise to use the tactic of censure as a means to discipline Pedneault. A motion to censure does not exactly help to create a stable atmosphere at SSMU, and such a close result will be very unhelpful in assuaging the increasingly prevalent political polarization on campus. Had the motion passed, it would surely have had a negative effect on student politics. A censure of Pedneault would have  caused resentment from many students who believe he is doing his best to represent their interests, and would have placed a great strain on the rest of the SSMU executives.

Had such negative politics not happened before, a motion for  censure might have been more forgiveable. However, a similar motion was brought forth just last year, and to disastrous effect. The motion to impeach former SSMU President Zach Newburgh­-regardless of the motion’s legitimacy-induced an atmosphere lacking in co-operation among the executives for the remainder of the year. [Editor’s note: Zach Newburgh sits on the TPS Board of Directors.] The movers of the censure motion therefore failed to learn from past mistakes.

In addition, the motion itself was grounded on some dubious foundations. Some reasons may have been based on understandable concerns, but the use of a censure is a disproportionate and overtly public reaction to something that could have stayed more low key and constructive. Certainly, the Tribune agrees with the motion’s movers that Pedneault’s decision to allow members of the Coalition Large de l’Association pour la Solidarité Syndicale étudiante (CLASSE), the organisation behind the Quebec-wide student strike, after-hours access to the SSMU office was an inappropriate use of the VP External’s authority. We hold this view because of the fact that SSMU is neither a member of CLASSE nor on strike, and such perks should be reserved for McGill students and organizations. 

Yet some reasons were not fair and not accurate. A motion to censure is a means to sort out a constitutional technicality, a punitive measure to deal with  members of the SSMU executive inexcusably overstepping their mandate. Indeed, criticising Pedneault’s participation in the strike and his active involvement on the picket lines of other universities in Montreal is misguided. Considering the other Montreal universities are currently on strike, where else is a VP External, McGill’s liason officer with other Quebec universities, supposed to liase  with our fellow Quebec students-something that constitutes an essential part of his mandate-other than on the picket lines? Moreover, the movers are not respecting Pednault’s right as an individual to participate in the Quebec-wide student strike. As a student representative for McGill, it does make it more difficult for him to do this, but it is not incompatible for him to represent McGill interests during his day job, and his own when he is not on the clock.

Furthermore, the movers were unfair to cite the administration’s exclusion of Pedneault from the university campus for five days as a reason for censure. Surely the exclusion  is a punishment in itself. The motion is merely seeking to punish Pedneault for getting punished.

One co-author claimed that the she was satisfied with the result because the aim was partly to voice concerns. Using the possibility of punishment of a VP to facilitate a discussion is inappropriate. We would not be surprised if future executives failed to fulfill their mandates for fear that any misstep-which should be addressed privately first-may result in a censure. 

Therefore the Tribune believes that the motion to censure Pedneault was not well thought out, and was an excessively inflammatory means to sort out a problem that could have been far better solved through persuasive discretion. Had a more discrete means already been repeatedly tried to no avail, it would have been a different story, but it was also up to the motion’s movers to make this clear. As they did not, they come across as going against Pedneault  for reasons of complaints with ideology rather than the more just reason for motions, that of a technical complaint.

Never mind that public opposition shut down internet regulation laws SOPA and PIPA in the United States. Never mind that protestors in the European Union managed to delay the progress of their version, ACTA, through the courts so that (knowing European bureaucracy) the law may never in fact be enacted. Now it’s Canada’s turn to try to weasel punitive Internet laws through parliament that censor users  and infringe on personal privacy. Oh Harper, you sneaky one, you.

The two parliamentary bills are C-11 and C-30. While C-11 is benignly called the Copyright Modernization Act, C-30 has a catchier title: the Protecting Children from Internet Predators Act. According to Public Safety Minister’s Vic Toews, you “either stand with us or with the child pornographers.” There’s no question here about who the good guys are. Society, myself included, generally disapproves of child pornographers. According to Mr. Toews’ ultimatum, however, I will have to stand with the child pornographers on this one.

The majority of Canadians, according to an Angus Reid poll, also stand with the child pornographers, and for good reason: naming this bill the “Protecting Children from Internet Predators Act” is misleading, if not a flat-out lie. C-30, from what I understand, has less to do with cracking down on Internet predators than creating an Orwellian surveillance system. The bill includes a provision that allows the government to force Internet providers to disclose subscriber data without a warrant. These data are not simply names, addresses, and phone numbers, which the government already has. We’re talking about our email addresses, email and text message content, what websites we’ve visited, and what digital transactions like uploading and downloading we’ve made. And since global positioning systems have built-in tracking devices, police would be able to-again, without a warrant-activate these devices and find you, wherever you are, to figure out what you’re doing, whenever you’re doing it. If this isn’t Big Brother watching you, I don’t know what is.

Ironically, as this bill has been proposed by the Conservative government, the province that is offended most by warrantless citizen-stalking is Alberta, which, with its love of beef, oil, and conservatism, has always reminded me of the Canadian version of Texas. I find Alberta’s opposition to the bill comforting: if the most Conservative province in Canada does not support these acts, why is Harper’s government proposing it?

Scarily enough, if the government doesn’t pass these acts, Big Brother will still be watching us, just from a more capitalist platform. We are already user-profiled and monitored by social media giants like Google and Facebook. Google being the largest of my concerns, I recently deleted my entire account, losing Youtube and my blog in the process, only to discover that the smartphone I use for web-browsing purposes is an Android, which also belongs to Google. I comfort myself with the knowledge that Androids are composed of non-official open-source software, but the reality is that I really can’t escape Google’s clutches. They know where I am, whenever they want to.

Apparently this is for my convenience. Google has now secured a patent on a novel technology that allows them to monitor and broadcast environmental data from my phone. The idea, according to the patent document, is that if Google’s server discovers I am in the middle of Texas in summertime, I will receive a text message advertising air conditioners. If I am caught in downpour, I will be directed towards the nearest umbrella stand. If I am facing frostbite in Montreal winter, Google will kindly remind me to buy a winter coat.

Convenience, according to this example, is terrifyingly intrusive. I know mobiles can already be traced, making C-30’s provisions for citizen stalking possible, but the idea of a constant communication loop between Google’s server and my mobile as part of an advertising scheme is creepy. We have a right to privacy. We should be able to send emails without governments peeking over our shoulders and we should be able to step outside with our phones without our steps being monitored by multi-million-dollar organizations. Public opposition to similar laws shut them down in the US and the EU, and as the Conservatives put forward these bills, it’s Canada’s turn to speak up.

Last month the anonymous group “McGillLeaks” published confidential documents from McGill’s office of Development and Alumni Relations. The administration has been seriously investigating the leak, even bringing in the police to help. Their response has been aggressive and effective, and the “McGillLeaks” website was quickly taken down. The university’s lawyers also sent letters to a number of individuals and media organizations, including the Daily Publication Society (which publishes the Daily and le Délit), asking them to delete any references to the leaked documents as well as to remove links to the now-defunct site.

The administration’s treatment of the DPS sparked a debate over the proper balance between an organization’s right to protect its privacy and the media’s freedom to publish stories dealing with leaked information. The DPS argues that since the Daily was not involved in stealing the confidential information, they aren’t legally prohibited from publishing stories on the documents once they’re made public.

The question of whether media outlets are allowed to use this information, even though it was made public illegally, could have been settled in the courts. Unfortunately, the DPS simply wouldn’t be able to sustain a lengthy legal battle with McGill. The DPS might have a case, but the courts have generally looked at these sorts of “media freedom” issues on a case-by-case basis.

The common sense, and hopefully the legal, standard for these cases is whether stories based on leaked documents contribute valuable information to the public. For example, if a government or organization is engaged in illegal behaviour, then reporting using illegally leaked information can be justified, and both media organizations and whistleblowers should be legally protected. However, publishing stories based on stolen information simply for the sake of transparency, without any greater purpose, is not justified and, preferably, editors would keep such stories out.

The “McGillLeaks” case seems to be the latter. The leaked documents contained mainly personal information about donors. Some may argue that we all have the right to know this information. We don’t. They may also argue that the “McGillLeaks” documents reveal unethical behaviour by the university, and therefore reporting on them is justified. I don’t agree with this, and McGill certainly doesn’t. But, ideally, a court would decide who is right.

However, the Daily decided to comply with some of McGill’s demands by removing links to the “McGillLeaks” site and refraining from publishing material on the content of the documents. This was the right call. The “McGillLeaks” information just isn’t worth it. There wasn’t anything shocking or overly contentious in there. This may be a matter of principle for the DPS, and it would be interesting to see how much freedom media outlets have to publish stories based on illegally obtained information, but they would be foolish to risk so much in this case.

Of course, the worst that should happen to the DPS is that they are forced to remove any stories on “McGillLeaks.” The Daily did not steal the documents, and we’re only talking about whether they have the right to publish stories based on them only once they’ve been made public. Whoever leaked or stole these documents is the real culprit here, and hopefully McGill’s investigation will identify them. The content of the documents did not justify making them public, and whoever is responsible is not a heroic whistleblower, just a thief. 

Four years ago I sat down in my living room with a middle-aged woman who upon first impressions seemed kind and respectful. It was my Yale entrance interview.  Palms sweaty and nerves high, I plodded through the first 25 minutes before she stopped me and said, “You’re not being very articulate, you know.”  Needless to say, I didn’t get in.  I’m not telling this anecdote just to humiliate myself.  Rather, the comment serves to display the contrast between the student-university relationship in America and Canada-and the differences in what each side of the relationship expects from the other.  

Differences can be seen almost immediately as the relationship is formed.  The American entrance process has 17-year-olds shaking in their boots for the better part of a year.  It is cause for momentous celebration when in late December the last of the “Submit” buttons are clicked. The litany of requirements for just one application can amount to three to five essays, an interview, recommendations from teachers, and letters from guidance counselors (on top of the SATs, SAT IIs, ACTs, and APs).  

Not so for McGill.  Yes, the test scores are needed, but that was about it.  If your GPA is good, welcome!  And yet, the calibre of students at McGill is as high or higher than any American school, and McGill continues to produce some of the finest minds in North America. This, then, begs the question, how arbitrary is the rigorous dog and pony show that has become American college admissions? And what is McGill doing right in their expectations of young aspiring academics?

The answer to these questions explains my nightmare of an Ivy League interview and highlights the benefits of the unique university-student relationship which McGill has created. The McGill model assumes the student is an untapped reserve. Their admissions process is an instigation of this model, a beckoning which is underpinned by the presumption that academic aspiration is brimming from every pore. A sense of responsibility is instilled in the creation of this relationship, which is not incumbent upon the doctored presentation of a jaw-dropping second coming of Christ, nor is it decided through a nervous hour of chit-chat. Rather, the gumption behind such a student is assumed, placing full control and responsibility into the hands of the student once admitted.

Of course, there is nothing wrong with being thorough. American universities are the best in the world because of nit-picking. However, instilling responsibility and being given a token of trust, as McGill does, goes a lot further than telling an aspiring academic that life is about a never-ending demonstration of perfection, a beauty pageant from which we cannot run. It is this kind of attitude which breads pressure and anxiety-and which prompted 20 Long Island students to pay others to take their SATs for them, effectively ending their academic credibility before it got off the ground.

Despite what it looks like, this isn’t retribution for the smug interviewer’s comments. Rather, this column should serve to remind us all of the unique power bestowed upon us by McGill, where we’re treated as masters of our own destiny. There is an unprecedented amount of animosity toward the administration right now; as well-placed as such criticism may be, let’s not allow it to subsume the bigger picture. Of all places, we’re lucky to be here.