The Parallel Parliament

by Glen Pearson

The Dangers of Coping

They arrived in a manila package at our Calgary home one day, sometime in 1956. Our family gathered around as Dad pulled out the architectural drawings and laid them on the table. They were plans for how to construct and stock a bomb shelter in case of an atomic war. A large silver siren located on top of a long white pole occasionally reminded us of that fact, as occasionally it would emit a practice wail in preparation for the real thing.

For an entire generation of Canadians, none of this is strange. The Cold War was actually heating up and the threat to human existence always seemed to hang precariously in the balance. Popular music and movies were always there to remind us of the threat. The euphoria of the end of the great global conflict in 1945 didn’t last long, as both the Soviet Union and the United States made their fearful moves for world domination. But the decades following took on something of a standoff between the superpowers until the Soviet Union collapsed some 25 years ago. The era of a renewed internationalism began, along with a boost in confidence for a more peaceful future.

Suddenly the term “Cold War” has made a rapid comeback. Even before the recent American election, USA Today spoke of, “A New Cold War?” and CNN ran as one of its headlines: “Cold War-style conflict.” This past week, the Toronto Star reported of apocalypse survival food kits being sold by Costco Canada. This country, which has historically been one of the key boosters of internationalism, is now looking on in mild alarm as nationalism not only flourishes south of the border and in key European states, but is subtly emerging in various Canadian contexts, including the Conservative leadership race.

This country is finding itself impinged in the vice between nationalism and internationalism. Trump’s bewildering sense of American identity represents just as much a challenge to Justin Trudeau as Vladimir Putin’s rampant militarism. This isn’t just about nuclear weapons, but cyber warfare and the flagrantly hostile actions of Russia over other nations. In such a context, peacekeeping and good intentions seem somehow underwhelming. As Robert Legvold, political scientist and Professor Emeritus at Columbia University, sees it, “we have entered a second Cold War, only perhaps more dangerous because of the unstable global environment and the more modern challenges of cyber warfare and terrorism.”

The Cold War might be returning for another round of global freezing, but this time it’s different. Where the United States and its partners made direct military interventions in places like Vietnam, Korea, even Bosnia, you’ll see nothing similar in Crimea or the Ukraine, where Russia roams with menace. And as China brandishes its might in the South China Sea, we seem to have entered a period of great uncertainty where Canada, like other nations, must reassess the manner of its own engagement in such a turbulent world.

With a fractured Western coalition and a surging populism on both sides of the Atlantic that is frequently isolationist in nature, Canada is seeking to walk a fine line between playing a global role for progress and keeping its own domestic house from fracturing. Of the two, the latter is more subtle and likely more dangerous.

Former American diplomat George Kennan, who wrote much of the book on how to contain the old Soviet Union, threw out a warning that Canada, like every other nation, must abide by if the present world isn’t to fall into a new era of threat and darkness: “The greatest danger that can befall us in coping with the problem of Soviet communism is that we shall allow ourselves to become like those with whom we are coping.”

Communism isn’t the greatest threat to peace in this new Cold War, nor is it Putin. Rather, it is the embedded nationalism that threatens to turn peaceful and tolerant nations into narrow and irreconcilable ones.

Democracy Without Conscience Can Only Lead To Chaos

This post can also be read at Huffington Post here

It’s likely time most of us agreed that we collectively have noidea where democracy is going. And if numerous polls are correct, living in such a situation is creating increased insecurity and tensions among citizens around the world.

It’s at times like the present when Vaclav Havel, former independence activist, playwright, and president of Czechoslovakia, might have something to offer us, despite the fact that he died some six years ago. It wasn’t by accident that the New York Times called him the “global ambassador for conscience.”

He, too, lived in a world of turbulence. With the Soviet Union breaking apart, no one was quite sure what would arise to take its place. In such times voices of conscience can become signposts for leading us out of our collective confusion. Or as Canadian author Louise Penny put it: “Don’t mistake dramatics for conscience.” There is a difference between the frenetic actions of the present democracy and the gentle pull of conscience.

In our modern world everyone seems to have an answer for everything, and the more opinions there are the more confounding everything is becoming. That was happening in Havel’s world as well, but he took a step back and urged his nation to consider what was happening around them: “We have to abandon the arrogant belief that the world is merely a puzzle to be solved.” In recent years we have journeyed down a political path where policies were supported by evidence gathering, science, focus groups, and research. All these things made it seem like the answers to our problems were there, but that we just had to have the best policies to find and implement them.

It didn’t work that way, of course, since all that looking at the world as some great puzzle got us increased unemployment, environmental catastrophe, a yawning gap between rich and poor, overt racism, terrorism, and costly regional conflicts. Whatever the problem, solutions, even researched ones, were never going to be enough. More important than all of these was the abiding need for a better understanding of humanity. That’s why Havel reminded his own citizens: “None of us are just victims; we are also its co-creators.” These were tough words, but then again, the times were tough, too. He would go on to add: “Freedom and democracy require participation and therefore responsible action from us all.”

And while it is true that we see emerging democratic participation at the grassroots level in most democratic countries, it frequently leads to more contention than compromise, to more heat than light. Somewhere in all the debate, protest, anger, confusion, participation and populism, we must find a way of bringing it all together in a way that can move us into a more equitable future. Havel watched political opinions ripping his country apart, so he cautioned:

“Can we find a new way of governing that allows us to move forward, to bring politics to a deeper level, to engage our whole beings, and to save our civilization from its collective hubris?”

His question was one for the ages, including our own. And it came from an honest place within his being as he watched anger dominating collaboration and absolutism among various factions replace tolerance and understanding. To counter that growing trend, Havel threw out a direct challenge: “There is no need at all for different people, religions and cultures to adapt or conform to one another … I think we help one another best if we make no pretenses, remain ourselves, and simply respect and honour one another, just as we are.” In a world of rigid ideologies that can only lead to autocracy and cultish bigotry, this call to a deeper respect for humanity couldn’t come soon enough.

We need not fear the distinctions that exist within our citizenry if all are prepared to accept those differences while building on our far greater commonalities. And to the politicians among us comes one of Havel’s final observations:

“A politician must become a person again — one who can think and act outside of his party. He must learn to trust in the soul of humanity again. Without this, politics itself cannot be overcome.”

All this is ours for the making, but only if we take the time to consider where we are headed, who we are electing to office, and what our own part could be in bridging those divides that are presently ripping us apart.

Is Our News Ripping Us Apart?

My wife and I spent some time in Ottawa last week testifying before the Human Rights Committee concerning the deteriorating situation in South Sudan. I noted a number of changes in Parliament since my sojourn there as a Member of Parliament ended six years ago, chief of which was the collective sense of tentativeness among the elected officials. That’s because the world has suddenly become far more complex, and at times threatening. Politicians are getting their information from all sides, both pro and con, and in doses that would challenge anyone.

That’s mostly opposite to the challenges citizens are facing regarding how they get their information. According to a recent Abacus Data survey, Canadians are becoming increasingly addicted to social media as their preferred source for political news – doubling in only the last two years. In a revealing statistic, the research paper discovered that 17% of respondents didn’t have cable or satellite television at home, although they did have an average of 5.8 devices connected to the Internet. Only 1% got their news from print newspapers.

So, like their politicians, citizens are getting news from everywhere around them. But there is one key distinction: Canadians are increasingly shaping what they get to suit their taste. This reality is threatening to our cohesion as citizens. The Abacus study found that Twitter users were twice as likely to get into a squabble as other social media consumers. Squabbles aren’t a bad thing and essential to debate, must unless common ground is discovered the repeated fracturing of society continues unabated.   As the report itself reported regarding Facebook users:

“Canada’s most active Facebook users tend to feast on a diet of news and information that is catered specifically to their interests, values, and ideologies. The more active Canadians are on Facebook, the more limited their world view.”

Google’s CEO, Eric Schmidt, predicted what all this would mean: “The technology will be so good, it will be very hard for people to watch or consume something that has not in some sense been tailored for them.” It used to be that we were informed and shaped by what we got from traditional news services. Today it’s the other way around, as the news industry molds itself more exclusively around what we are interested in. The news industry is changing us in the similar fashion to how we are changing the industry.

Internet pioneer Esther Dyson predicted something like this would happen, when she wrote, “The great virtue of the Internet is that it erodes power. It sucks power out of the centre, and takes it to the periphery, it erodes the power of institutions over the people while giving to individuals the power to run their own lives.” Okay, we get that. And we get that the news industry is scattering to the periphery as well. But what if one of the casualties of that phenomenon is that the centre can no longer hold? This becomes the greatest challenge to modern politics, and judging from what I witnessed in Ottawa last week few have adequate answers to the dilemma. What if we need to come together to confront our greatest challenges but discover we lack the capacity to do so? Politicians, in a rampant age of populism, worry about this every day and how they might manage it.

Democracy has had a great run, especially in the years since the Second World War. And yet while it has won almost all of its battles, winning the war has always seemed just out of reach. That war, of course, was to create a better, more equitable and peaceful world, a place where our differences were never powerful enough to overcome our common ground. Ultimately the greatest casualty of democracy isn’t truth or freedom, but the gradual erosion of that very common ground that held us together, despite our distinctions. We didn’t make it inclusive enough and weren’t duly diligent in resourcing it. And now when we need it, we discover it’s fractured.

A connected world can’t be built merely on our differences. We require a new kind of democracy, a new narrative, a new world of inclusiveness. That will become increasingly difficult to achieve unless we come together to build it and our politicians make themselves relevant again by building the social and economic structures to make that possible. It is time for all of us, our politicians included, to come together to write a new history by shaping it rather than fearing it.

Photo credit: Martin Nitalla

How Grief Defines and Ennobles Us

We all reach a stage in life when grief and a sense of loss go from being sudden events to our constant companions. In numerous conversations in the last few weeks, I have been struck by just how many people are moving through the various stages of grief and seeking to infuse their own lives with meaning as they have come face to face with their mortality.

It seems to be happening at every level – from the loss of celebrity figures like David Bowie or Stuart Maclean in recent months, to those losing hope for peace in a troubled world. An entire generation of Baby Boomers has reached the age where they are saying gentle and painful farewells to parents in their final days. Suddenly tears seem something sacred and heartbreak leads to a sense of closeness.

Every day throughout our community such experiences are played out in ways most of us will never know. Like some kind of institution, grief is ever-present among us but goes unnoticed. Occasionally it catches us unaware, as when we spot a funeral procession on its way to the cemetery or when we spot the sad crescendo of tears by someone incapacitated outside the emergency room. It is in the darkened face of one on the edge of losing their faith in humanity because of all the conflicts, or the person who looks at an old photo album they haven’t open for years. In most cases, such events never make the news or rise to public consciousness but they nevertheless define the daily life of citizens and are therefore important.

There is always the tendency to wish grief to end, to release its dismal hold on our emotions. Yet it endures because we must always be reminded that for a time we had something special in our lives and our crying out in pain is but a reflection of just how valued that presence was. The tears are the down payment we pay for the ongoing memory of what we have lost and still treasure. It is just as the old Jewish proverb reminds us: “We fear to love what death can touch.” But once we overcome that fear and begin a relationship with someone that we value then it is inevitable that the pain will strike us when she or he is gone. And yet we do it – we continue to reach out for what inspires us. When we are young we don’t think about what we could lose; when we are older we can’t forget it.

Recently I reached out to a friend in Britain who had suffered an unexplainable loss. Endeavouring to be supportive, I sent some words of encouragement. She wrote me back with an anonymous quote that spelled grief out for me in a fashion I will never forget:

“Grief, I’ve learned, is really just love. It’s all the love you want to give but cannot. All of that unspent love gathers up in the corners of your eyes, the lump in your throat, and in that hollow part of your chest. Grief is just love with no place to go.”

“Love with no place to go.” Most of us endure this each day and yet continue on because, really, what can we do? We can’t bring what we treasured back to us. We understand that grief loses some of its intensity over time, but we never overcome the longing. We feel the loss deeply because that person once stretched our minds and our spirits to new heights and depths. Our grief is a reminder that their memory is yet with us, stirring our emotions, and encouraging us to get on with life. Just as knowledge builds the mind and exercise strengthens the body, grief uniquely ennobles our soul and spirit.

All those who grieve are baptized into the fragility of all that is human. And yet the pain’s presence in our lives is but a reminder that, in some unexplainable way, what we have lost is yet with us. Our grief is the price we pay for the privilege of having that person still present within us even though they are gone. They yet whisper in our ear, arouse our spirits and not just our memories, reminding us that we not only loved them deeply but that we were capable of getting beyond ourselves and embracing a greater life. Their presence in our lives through grief means we can still perform that remarkable act of transformation.

Progress in War Outpacing Efforts for Peace

This post can also be read in the Huffington Post here.

 

In the modern era, the abiding belief has always been that war and conflict were vestiges of the past and that peace was the progressive option for moving humanity into a more secure future. That sentiment is now under assault.

It’s troubling to think that armed conflict is in a more progressive mode than peace initiatives at the moment. While the great wars have all but disappeared in the new Millennium, regional conflicts have emerged with a troubling vengeance. The death casualties in these conflicts have grown so high that many are talking about the potential for these regional conflicts to rival the sheer human cost of the great wars of the past century, especially among civilians. Consider the African continent alone, where millions have died in the Congo, both Sudans, Nigeria, and Algeria, among others. In 2014, Africa experienced more than half of worldwide conflicts despite having only 16% of the world’s population. The revelation that African conflicts are actually on a gradual decline does little to assuage the sense that the casualties of such conflicts are unacceptably high.

When one adds the sheer human cost in lives in Syria, Iraq, and other countries in those regions, there is the growing sense that war is overtaking peace as the default method for how countries interact with their neighbours. And the larger scale saber rattling of the larger players in recent months – Russia, North Korea, Iran, a more bellicose America – threatens to resuscitate the Cold War, which we thought had ended only three decades ago.

War is quickly becoming more “progressive” than peace due to rapid advances in technology. High-tech intelligence gathering techniques, drones, laser-guided missiles, advanced fighter jets and bombers flown almost exclusively by computers, night vision weapons for both the ground and the air, or even the lower-grade but steadily advancing improvised explosive devices (IEDs) used by homegrown terrorist – such weapons of conflict represent serious new threats to the new era of peace that billions had hoped for only two decades ago.

Against all this the question must be asked: is peace truly able to keep up with these renewed forms of warfare? Certainly, great efforts are made each day by NGOs and the United Nations to develop more sophisticated methods for pursuing peace. Perhaps the primary activity at the moment is the development of women’s programs around the world since statistics are increasingly making the case that the greater the involvement of women in leadership roles in troubled areas the less likely will armed conflict become the default response to any kind of disagreement.

Environmental efforts to sustain water supplies, the development of more durable crops, increased opportunities for education, and enhanced legal efforts to restrain the spread of used weaponry around the world, are all vital and must be pursued with greater vigor. Yet the sense remains, much of it insidious, that war, in all its facets, is making a resurgence.

Humanity is now facing the two great questions it has historically confronted for thousands of years: is peace worth it and will we pay the cost to sustain it? It’s becoming increasingly clear that the first is unsustainable without the second. We slide back into conflict the moment we fail to fight for peace. Shakespeare worried about it in his time, saying that peace was “naked, poor and mangled.” As long as we keep it in such a condition it can never prevail. By always making peace about security instead of the building of a strong civil society we have left ourselves without the tools and empowered citizens required to put peaceful impulses in the very sinews of society, not just its border regions.

Not all that long ago, peace was viewed as the occasional pause that occurred between long lists of conflicts. If we aren’t careful we will soon be in danger of replicating such a timeline. Peace becomes an investment in what we can accomplish; war morphs into everything that we can lose. As long as peace remains under the influence of generals, politicians, even bureaucrats, it will forever be traded off in favour of others pursuits.

The time has come for peace to be democratized – the place where citizens themselves infuse peace itself with humanity instead of statistics, weapons, and endless angling for advantage. “Peace cannot be kept by force; it can only be achieved by understanding,” wrote Albert Einstein. We have yet to truly learn that lesson, and until we do, the temptation for conflict will always remain our steady companion.

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