Showing posts with label non-fiction. Show all posts
Showing posts with label non-fiction. Show all posts

Saturday, November 30, 2013

Economic Justice off the Radar.

Matthew Samuel Spurrell. (Wiki.)









by Ian Cooper




One reason there are so many poor children in this country is because low-paid parents have to spend so much of their income on rent and utilities. There is little left for food, clothing and other necessities. Public, geared-to-income housing is non-existent or there are such long waiting lists that people don’t even bother applying.

A third of all Canadians earn less than poverty-level wages. Millions aren’t covered by employment standards, and do not qualify for unemployment benefits.

If wages had kept pace with rising productivity, wages would have been an average of $200.00 a week higher in 2005 and a total of $10,000.00 higher on a yearly basis.
See this document from the Canadian Centre for Policy Alternatives to see the full impact of these programs, for surely all of this is a result of policy.

In 2006, wages increased marginally to 50.6 percent of GDP. This was down from 55.4 per cent in 1992. Yet corporate profits over the same period increased from 4.7 percent of GDP in 1992 up to 13.9 percent of GDP, the highest in history.

The Vanier Institute reports that since 1990, average after-inflation wage increases for the typical Canadian family rose a whopping ten cents. Statistics Canada defines low wages as those paying less than ten dollars an hour. About 1.3 million Canadians held full-time low-wage jobs; women are twice as likely as men to hold these jobs. Many are single moms, surely one of the most maligned groups in history! But just listen to the rhetoric and you’ll see what I mean. I’m not talking on the floor of Parliament either—this nonsense has trickled down to the kitchen table and doughnut shop level of minldess, people-bashing rhetoric.

University of British Columbia economist Robert Evans notes that between 1976 and 1990, the per-capita average income of Canadians was stagnant, but the top 0.01 percent of Canadians saw their incomes nearly double.

The Globe and Mail reports that Canada’s CEO’s saw their pay increase 39 percent in just one year, 2005; while the average Canadian worker got about $38,000 a year, minimum wage workers subsist on less than $16,000, which is below the poverty line.

Multinational corporations have the ability to shift investments around the world. This pressures governments to reverse reforms associated with the social safety net. Trade is international, but unions are nationally based. Business has less need to compromise with government and labour, the power of workers to negotiate fair wages and benefits is eroded.

The issue of economic justice and income distribution is totally off the radar screen, leaving huge numbers living in poverty. The minimum wage has been allowed to fall in after-inflation terms, despite the fact that it plays a key role in social justice and anti-poverty issues. Trust me, Canadian journalists are good enough to know all about this. Why isn't it a bigger issue?

Almost 1.2 million Ontario workers have to live on wages of less than ten dollars per hour. The only countries with lower minimum wages than Canada are Poland, the U.S., the Czech Republic, Japan, and South Korea. There are no provinces in this country where minimum wages even come close to the poverty line.

Among the developed nations, Canada has the second highest percentage of low-paid workers, exceeded only by the U.S.; our minimum wage is lowest of all the OECD countries.

Some reasons for this are the ignorance of the media; who sweep the issue under the rug, the smugness and mealy-mouthed hypocrisy of the bourgeoisie, and the vicious greed of the corporate-sponsored Conservative and Liberal governments of some provinces and this nation.



END

Tuesday, November 12, 2013

Weird Anecdotes.

Mrchopper (Wiki.)




If you live long enough, some pretty weird things can happen to you.

I don’t mean big, serious things like finding Sasquatch sitting at the dining room table reading the papers when you come home, and you know danged well you didn’t leave a door or window unlocked and never subscribed to the National Post anyway.

No, I mean dumb stuff. More especially, I mean little stuff.

Something that just sticks in your mind for literally decades, and it often becomes something to refer to. I mean, you wonder about it later.

They’re called anecdotes or something.

It’s something you can compare other weird stuff to in an objective and analytical fashion.

There was this one time, my girlfriend and I were at the home of friends. They were a young married couple with a daughter of about eight months. We were drinking some kind of cheap wine from a trick decanter. 

You put the glass up to a certain place, push, and the decanter filled the glass.

We ran out of wine. My buddy and I hopped in my little MGB, and off we go to the liquor store.

We were sitting at a red light, a few blocks from their place. On the other side of the intersection was a big boxy vehicle. The light turned green, and I started going, and the truck lurched ahead, coming towards me. I was just shifting into second gear, when this guy steps out from behind the truck. He must have been waiting on the curb, blocked from vision behind the truck. I can only assume he was maybe planning to go east, or he might have been better off using the crosswalk, i.e. ahead of the waiting cube van or whatever. Sort of like where people could see him.

He would have been better off to wait for the light, right? That is the safest way to cross a street.

I know for a fact that this was no fault of mine, and I had a witness, although we were both under the influence of alcohol…hey, look, I didn't much want to talk to the cops either. I can admit that, a few decades later.

He came from the left side. He was right on me, literally so. He stopped dead. My front wheels missed his toes. He fell forward onto the hood of my car as I screeched to a halt. I had a quick look at a guy with a big sack over his right shoulder, like Santa Claus.

It only lasted a half-second because the gentleman was presently occupied in the act of smacking into my windshield, rolling up and over the roof, which buckled and made funny noises and then there was a quick glimmer of something red dropping away past my glaring brake lights.

I pulled the handbrake, popped it out of gear and went to go help the guy.

I heard laughing from inside the car, which was maybe not all that weird.

Don’t you understand the seriousness of this situation? Some friend, right? That was my initial thought.

Even weirder, there was no sign of the guy. He sort of came from Seven-Eleven, and right across the street is the doughnut shop. He wasn’t there.

Spinning around, there was the guy, walking east on the south side of the street.

I leapt back in, and drove up a hundred feet. My buddy, still giggling, rolled down his window.

“Hey Buddy! Are you okay?”

He looked over, then straight ahead again, plowing on towards whatever uncertain destiny he had.

I pulled twenty-five feet further on. He was covering the ground pretty quickly.

“Hey, man!” (This was the seventies.) “Are you okay, man?”

Didn’t even look around this time! The man just kept his head down and kept walking.

I have always wondered what the hell was in that big sack over his shoulder.

A big bag of laundry might have saved him from some harm, some injury. Yeah, but what the hell? Why not have something to say, right? Most people would have said something.

Whatever was in that bag saved him some bruising from my windshield, among other things. A big bag of dope? That’s one reason to keep moving, I’ll grant you that.

Stolen property?

What was he stealing, tea towels? Soft furnishings? Women’s clothing? There were no stereos or cameras or whatever in that bag. Something hard in that bag would have smashed the windshield, or made more noise in the impact, or been broken itself, right?

But I can honestly say that one was definitely weird.

***

Weird is one thing. It’s bad enough sometimes. Creepy is worse, so much worse.

Many years ago, I was working in another town. I had rented a weekly kitchenette unit at the local motel. I worked days and had to go to work in the morning.

I’m lying in bed, the lights are out and it’s about eleven thirty p.m. All of a sudden the door pops open and some guy walks in. I sit up in absolute astonishment as he sits on the edge of the bed and starts taking off his shoes.

Who in the hell are you?

I find it hard to believe that I would forget to lock my door. It was a new town, a long way from home, and all that sort of thing. It must be possible, because apparently that’s what happened.

Even so, what are the odds of some guy losing his own way, and of course back then I slept in the raw? Bad coincidence, right? It was harvest time and the motel was rocking. Every room and private barrack-type farm accommodation in the whole town was jammed to the rafters.

And in fact, this guy went into the very next unit when he finally did go.

So there I was, clutching my bed-sheets up around my chest, my voice rising higher and higher as I tried to get this guy out of my room.

Yeah, it turns out he’s drunk. Really drunk.

Finally it sinks in that he’s not wanted in my fucking bed—I swear to God, this guy took off his shoes and laid back on the bed beside my own freaking-out self.

“Can’t we just talk for a while?”

“No! Get the hell out!”

Can you imagine that, ladies and gentlemen?

Can’t we just talk for a while?

Imagine having that brain in your head. No wonder you’re a migrant farm worker, buddy.

Finally the knuckle-head leaves and I threw aside blankey-poo and nipped over and locked the bloody door.

You’d think the guy would have enough sense to leave.

Honestly, in a situation like that, weird is as weird does, but leaping out of the bed and beating the crap out of the guy would have only led to further and more serious embarrassment.

I’m firmly convinced of that: Naked Man Beats Off Nocturnal Intruder, and stuff like that in the paper.

I think could live without it, especially since I was working at the paper at the time.

They really loved that story though--what, you didn't think I was going to waste a perfectly good story like that, did you?

You know me better than that.


END

Sunday, October 6, 2013

On Church and State

Epicurus: 'Why does evil exist?'








We don’t really have separation of Church and State in this country, even though the claim has been made that we do. 

There has never been a church that revolted against this state, and the state has never represssed a single religion. 

Well--maybe a few. Maybe just a little bit--but they came around in the end.

To the state, all religions are equally useful.

They keep the people placid, and that’s good if you want to exercise power over them. Once the truth has been revealed, it is unchangeable—an important element in any system of beliefs.

The truth is unchangeable. Truth comes from somewhere far above you.

Christmas, Easter, Thanksgiving, these are all state and religious holidays. People who haven’t seen the inside of a church in years for any reason other than the wedding of a friend or the funeral of a relative celebrate religious holidays with an inconsistency that to me seems schizophrenic.

Religion is an excuse to have festivities.

The state itself rests on some religious foundation. The Queen of England, the titular head of our constitutional monarchy, is also the titular head of the Anglican Church. We have Henry VIII to thank for that, when all he wanted was to appoint his own friends to benefices that were up for grabs, (and the income derived from them) which up until then were strictly Catholic. That’s right, ladies and gentlemen—Henry VIII was a Catholic. Some would argue that all he wanted was another divorce, and the pope at that time refused.

It was a power struggle, nothing more, and I don’t think Henry VIII had any great theological arguments to back him up. So in that sense, it really wasn’t about the Reformation or Protestantism per se.

No one wants to talk about this. We prefer to let sleeping dogs lie. I’m just supposed to accept things and keep my mouth shut—because you guys have given me freedom.

And you’re not going to give it up—or the power that goes with it, anytime soon.

What a ludicrous claim. You have given me my freedom.

No one can set you free, ladies and gentlemen.

You must free yourselves or be perpetual slaves in service to your corporate masters.

Personal freedom requires the individual to take full responsibilty for themselves—and responsibility is hard.

Before each session of the Legislative Assemby of Ontario, the proceedings are opened with a prayer.

It is true those dummies need all the help they can get, for surely one or two of them had some vision…before they got elected, and had hopes of making some sweeping social progress in the context of this century, a hope that will be quickly pounded out of them by ‘realities.’

I’ve never actually heard it, but it’s likely not the Roman Catholic version of the Lord’s Prayer that they use. 

They had to pick one, and only one, of several creeds.

In fact, when I switched from a public school to a Catholic school back in the 1960s, the words of the prayer were slightly different. The hair-splitting of theology is legendary.

One syllable, one wrong word, one wrong inflection or accent and the transgressor is immediately condemned to everlasting hellfire. Since I’ve uttered that prayer both ways, it’s difficult to see me as anything other than but one of the damned.

The trouble with atheism is of course morality.

Without a God, one socially-acceptable to my neighbours, where can morality possibly spring from?

What if I agreed that murder, theft, arson, violence of any sort was wrong?

Would you doubt my word, even though these things are first of all illegal, and secondly, they are impractical methods of conflict resolution?

Ah, but Ian, where are you getting all of this? Surely a man, a normal man, is incapable of figuring these things out without some miracle of divine intervention, a lightning bolt, a splitting of the Earth, or even just a stork leaving town in a hurry—a flock of birds behaving strangely, or perhaps the meteors of the air, showering the world with sparks and pestilence…but I digress, ladies and gentlemen.

Where do atheists go on Halloween? Because we don’t believe in the supernatural, it would be hypocritical to dress up as a ghost or a goblin; or to indulge in superstition such as reading the horoscope, crossing our fingers for luck, or throwing a penny into a wishing well.

Atheism, in order to be valid, must be supremely rational, and that is also its greatest weakness.

That’s because none of us are completely rational beings.

We cannot escape our upbringing. From our upbringing stems all prejudice, for we were born a clean slate with no rational thoughts at all.

Atheism takes power away from Church and State. No longer is there a fountainhead of morality, one that all can recognize and agree to, even if it is only as a legal fiction.

Atheism empowers the individual. It empowers them to be free.

I say the power to govern stems from the people, but in the maternalistic political world, the people can‘t be trusted and so we need a Queen. And in order to justify one person being Queen over some other choice, a person equally or perhaps even better qalified to be Queen, we must accept their ‘Divine Right of Kings.’ 

We must accept the prerogatives of birth and blood, their pedigree. We must accept not only history as it was written—mostly by educated males of the ruling class, but we must also accept that it can be no other way. We must accept the tyranny of past precedents without question.

Otherwise there is no legitimacy, and that includes the legitimacy of elections based on historical precedent, which is the only argument that you have when God is taken out of the equation.

Our ancestors fought for those rights for sound personal reasons.

Personal reasons, and today we can only speculate as to what they may have been.

***

You could try speaking to me in purely practical terms, but I think you incapable of actually doing it, without quickly running out of arguments and falling back on tradition.

Genetically, we are asked to accept that the blue-bloods are not just morally superior in that they have the right to govern, it seems we must also accept their genetic superiority! Something that has not been scientifically proven seems to be an unwritten law.

Otherwise, the only other possible argument is that they are rich—or that they have a monopoly on truth, one which stems from somewhere far, far up above the common man.

Objectively speaking, if we did away with Queen Elizabeth II, would the country collapse of its own internal moral inconsistencies?

(But of course you don’t see that we have any moral inconsistencies.)

Of course not. Someone would find the justification to continue with our present system, with absolutely no changes (or disruption,) at all. Anyhow, they always have another king or queen waiting in the wings to take over, don’t they? If you follow the genealogy of the Royal Family, it goes all the way back to Wotan—the god of war, whose effigy was placed on a wagon and drawn through the camp of the barbarians before battle in order to remind those savage warriors that the gods were on their side and that Valhalla awaited the heroes who gave their life for their king and country.

It would seem that either they were wrong or now, in the present day, we must be wrong. For now all religions are equally valid before the law.

We have changed religions many times over the last two thousand years, and in fact Christianity itself would be almost unrecognizable to Jesus in the unlikely event he should be ressurected and return to Earth for a quick look to see how things were going.

Our ‘belief system’ is irrational, and even more so, it is perpetuated by an unwritten code of bigotry and prejudice, a system of checks and balances to keep us from asking all the wrong questions.

It must be based on a system of unconscious assumptions.

It has to be unconcsious, it has to be unwritten, and it has to be accepted by all, just like the emperor’s new set of clothes, for to question it is to unravel the whole fabric of our society, very quickly, and in the interest of order, we prefer not to do that.

We simply must have order.

To an atheist, the whole basis of Canadian law and government is irrational—because it is based on assumptions of the divine, the revelation of religion, which oddly enough always seems to favour the predominance of the rich—and the well-born—and it is really nothing more than a way of squelching dissent from ordinary people, most of whom do not have time for great philosophical debates.

They’re too busy struggling to put food on the table and keep a roof over their heads.

I have no doubt most of them have an opinion, one which no matter how loudly shouted, bears little evidence of actual thought, any real practicality, or any real usefulness at all.

I don’t really have the right to say this. Freedom of expression is in the Constitution? Yes it is, but then the neighbours also have pitchforks and unlit torches in the back closet, just in case something goes terribly wrong and another belief system comes along to threaten their comfortable assumptions.

You see, since atheism is not a religion, my belief system is not protected by the Constitution, which guarantees freedom of religion. It most definitely does not guarantee ‘freedom from religion,’ because Canadians ‘don’t want that.’

They want to have their cake and eat it too. They want to be left alone and not to have to think too much. 

They want some nice Christmas gifts, they want to eat turkey and give thanks for not being Americans—how many times have we watched Canadian journalists on TV, who report on the U.S. with such smug and self-righteous glee.

“Thank God we aren’t Americans.” How many times have we heard it?

To an objective observer half a world away, Canadians and Americans are almost indistinguishable.

But it means so very, very, much, to a Canadian, not to be an American.

Because Americans are unwashed. They are loud, boisterous, obnoxious people with a little too much power around the globe and a little too much money to spend at home…unless they’re here as tourists, in which case, ‘Bienvenue.’

Welcome to Canada, eh. The home of peace, order and good, rational government, a government of the people and by the people—well, two out of three ain’t so bad, eh?

And it is the home of an irrational system of beliefs which justifies much.

I hate justification. I think justification would suck a basketball through a garden hose if you gave it half a chance. In that sense, justification is much like assumption.

I hate assumptions, for they are a form of limiting beliefs.

If this nation really has a moral system of beliefs, a moral system of government, one which takes into account more than just the ignorances and prejudices of the loudest mouths, would someone please tell me why the disabled must live thirty or forty percent below the poverty line; a situation which has persisted for decades, and which will go on for the forseeable future?

But you can’t do it, can you?

Religion, morality, tradition, none of that can help the true hypocrite explain a situation that is intolerable to any thinking person.

Maybe that’s why I became an atheist.

You simply couldn’t satisfy my inquiries. And now I have become like the state—I see all religions as equally valid, or perhaps vapid would be a better word.

The state sees them as useful, a fundamental difference of philosophy.

http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Atheism

Saturday, July 6, 2013

The legend of Dr. Faustus: Truth depends on who you ask.

Faust, etching, Rembrandt van Rijn









The figure of Faustus is both fact and fancy.

The legendary figure of Dr. Faust has fascinated philosophers, theologians, spectators and audience members for centuries.    

According to ancient lore Faust was a traveling fortune-teller and wizard.

A learned man, he may have taught in the universities of his era, ultimately living in Cologne.

Contemporary scholars depicted him as a charlatan, unscrupulous, yet hard evidence on his life is lacking; and they may just have been jealous.

Whispered stories of supernatural powers helped create the legend of Faust in his own lifetime, (1480?-1540?).

One tradition has it that Faust was a respected, prominent citizen living under the patronage and protection of the Archbishop of Cologne. Alchemy and magic were not that far removed from sorcery and witchcraft in the minds of the common people; any kind of knowledge was suspicious.

Doctor Faust may have been employed by the Archbishop to get a psychological edge on his enemies. The Renaissance was in full swing thanks to Gutenberg’s printing press.

This helped to spread revolutionary new ideas, yet it was also a time of great ignorance and superstition.

One widely held folk belief at the time was the notion that the Jews, in league with Satan, had conspired to crucify Jesus. It coloured public opinion.

Faust the man may have been a victim of anti-Semitism, or who knows, he may have been a genuinely rotten fellow. It is possible he was Jewish, yet it is a known fact that both Martin Luther and Melancthon believed him to be in cahoots with the Devil.

The “Historia von Dr. Johann Fasuten,” (1787) was published in Frankfurt. In this compilation of tales, Faust makes a deal with Mephistopheles, who grants him magic, knowledge and power, but only for twenty-four years. After which, his soul belongs to the devil…Eventually Faust repents having “bartered his soul for illusory knowledge and pleasure.” Well, we all have to grow up some time, eh?

This collection of legend and fact appeared in English verse in 1587 and German verse in 1588, and was released in French and English prose versions in 1592.

Marlowe.
Playwright Phillip Marlowe produced a “Tragedy of Dr. Faustus” in 1589. But it is the great poetic drama ”Faust” (written and re-written between 1808 and 1832) by J.W. von Goethe, which is the best known to the world. In his version Faust is not damned, because he genuinely desires to expand the boundaries of knowledge.

Possibly von Goethe thought a person could play poker with the Devil – and win.

Goethe’s story became the definitive version; later writers did not tamper with his outcome. Other classic works include the dramatic epic “Faust” (1835) by Nicholaus Lenau; Heinrich Heini’s ballad of the same title appearing in 1851 and “Doktor Faustus” (1948) by Thomas Mann.

The average person on the street might tend to identify Faust as “The man who sold his soul to the Devil.”



Thomas Mann. Portrait by Carl van Vechten
They say history is a generally agreed upon thing. That really depends who you ask.


End 


Author's Note: my short sexual memoir 'The Note' is now free on Smashwords. here is my profile, below that is the link for the book. Use coupon code SSW75 on checkout. Offer ends July 31/13.



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Reviews are especially appreciated, they're quick and easy to do and provide a valuable service to readers and authors alike.


> Ian


                                                                                                                    

Saturday, May 18, 2013

Wartime Propaganda in Canada.


Is it really news or are you trying to send a message?


In World War One and WW II our free and open society used propaganda to forward the war effort and motivate the Canadian people. Most readers would agree if they’ve ever read any kind of book on the subject of Canada at war.

Propaganda was carried out by the mainstream media of the day, which included newspapers, magazines, books, newsreels, radio and speeches. We’re all aware of the propaganda by Nazi Germany in the period 1933-1945, and Soviet propaganda machines.

So it would appear that if we are indeed at war in Afghanistan, then perhaps it’s not such a giant intuitive leap of the imagination to ask, “Is there propaganda in the data-stream coming out of the media?”

The answer is self-evident, but we’ll ask the following questions on behalf of today’s young men who apparently have some kind of a literacy problem, good educations notwithstanding.

What form would it take? What would it look like? Who would be doing it? Why are they doing it? What is the purpose? How is it being done? What effect is it having? Who pays for it?

If every TV journalist in the nation starts wearing a poppy in late September and keeps it on until early January, is this a free choice, or some kind of policy? Please state the message in exact words. I don't find the symbology valid anymore.

When a CTV Newsnet journalist looks a guest advocating withdrawal from Afghanistan in the eyes and asks, (we had about 38 casualties at the time,) “Did they all die in vain, then?” that’s pretty heavy stuff.

The only time they ask tough questions is when dissent is offered? Nice.

The propaganda is out there once you become aware of the possibility. It’s not seamless, not unless you accept it as the truth without question.

“Perception is reality.”

If you believe it to be true, then it becomes truth. In the end, truth really doesn’t matter. What matters is public opinion. And that can be ‘managed,’ from time to time.

The first law of human communication is this: “No matter who you’re talking to, you’re only getting half a story.”

The second law of human communication states: “The government will tell you what it wants you to think.”

The third law of human communications states, “The mainstream media of the day are either self-regulating, or regulated by the government. It’s their choice.

The fourth law of human communications goes like this: “You don’t have to believe everything you read in a newspaper, hear on the radio, see on TV, or get off the internet.”

I’ve just scooped all the mainstream big-bucks media in the land on this wartime propaganda thing.

We all have our little role to play.

Anyhow, to engage in idle speculation is the mark of a free man. (And never try to argue with an idiot.)

I often thought I’d make a good propagandist, but you really need to get inside the subject’s head. In order to do that you need to understand human nature. You also need to understand his culture, his attitudes. You have to know what makes them tick. All human beings have a sense of justice, and a sense of humour. Virtually all men like true words, honestly spoken with a flair.

My problem as a Canadian, is that I kind of got used to trying to make informed choices. Well, the fog of war is legendary—it’s also true. If our own government is generating a big smokescreen, I have to ask why? Where is the threat? Where is it coming from? What is its nature? And why should I care? I got enough problems of my own to deal with.

I see Mr. Harper’s government as a kind of tragicomedy of errors. Mr. Trudeau’s government will be a light slapstick comedy with a host of zany characters. Just what the viewers need to wind up a long and interminable interlude. And let’s try to have our boys and girls home by the year 2014. Uh, that’s Christmas, 2014.