Despite safety gains in many other industries, fishing continues to have the highest fatality rate of any employment sector in Canada. As Tavia Grant reports, even as the long lists of the dead continue to grow, regulators and policy-makers are challenged by the grim fatalism that pervades a world in which generations of fishermen have gone out into the sea and, all too often, not come home
Saturday, October 28, 2017 – Print Edition, Page F1

In the tidy port town of Lunenburg, N.S., near the ocean's edge, a touching memorial lists the fishermen who have lost their lives at sea since 1890.

"Dedicated to the memory of those who have gone down to the sea in ships," says the inscription on a slab of black granite, and to those who "continue to occupy their business in the great waters."

The monument, across from the Fisheries Museum of the Atlantic and just down from the Fishermen's Memorial Hospital, lists more than 600 names, with many surnames repeated, etched on three-sided stone columns. It's a powerful reminder of the deadly toll suffered in one profession in one town.

Such memorials dot the towns throughout the South Shore. Not everyone is a fan. "I don't like them," says Stewart Franck, who led the Fisheries Safety Association of Nova Scotia from 2011 to his retirement in July.

"They leave spaces for names to be added."

Visits to half a dozen of them, from Lunenburg to Yarmouth, confirm he's right - not only is there leftover space on each tablet, but some memorials, eerily, have entire blank slabs of granite ready to accommodate more names.

The monuments are a symbol not just of the severe risks of the job - but also of a prevailing sense of fatalism in an industry in which generations of fishers have gone out into the waters and, all too often, not come home. That sense of inevitability - that accidents happen, and little can be done to prevent them - frustrates those like Mr. Franck, who are working to instill a safety culture in the sector. He calls the memorials "pessimistic."

Such pessimism is one of many reasons that fishing, unlike other sectors, such as farming or mining, has seen little improvement in workplace fatalities over the years.

This may not seem surprising to those observing the profession from afar - after all, shows like Deadliest Catch and Cold Water Cowboys glorify the dangers of the job.

Danger may be all in a day's work, but despite prevailing fatalistic attitudes of some who go to sea, the mystery is why there isn't more oversight ensuring safeguards are in place. Why has fishing remained so deadly, in an era when other industries have gotten safer?

A risky business where bravado can be the enemy

Despite strides in workplace safety, across Canada, and across industries, on-the-job deaths occur with disturbing frequency - almost every day, someone dies from a traumatic, work-related injury.

Assessing which jobs carry the most risk, however, is a murky business. In such countries as Australia, the U.S. and Britain, worker fatality rates are produced and published every year. But the Association of Workers' Compensation Boards of Canada doesn't produce such numbers, and Statistics Canada has not done so since 1996.

The Globe and Mail set out to fill that gap, and answer a simple question: What is the most deadly work in Canada?

The answer matters. Awareness of which jobs put people at most risk, and which are growing more dangerous, can help spark better policy and aid in the enforcement of occupational-safety targets. What's more, it can improve workplace practices and training, and ultimately save lives.

The Globe and Mail and Statistics Canada conducted a months-long data review that reveals that fishing has the single highest fatality rate of any sector in the country.

Among individual occupations for which data are available, fully three of the top six most deadly jobs - deckhands, fishermen and marine harvesters - are in fishing.

Those statistics, based on workers' compensation data and Statistics Canada employee numbers, were gathered, produced and analyzed by a team of Globe journalists in conjunction with Statscan. The statistics focus, intentionally, on rates - not absolute numbers - in order to expose which jobs and industries carry the highest risk of dying at work. Fishing is a relatively small sector - even by generous estimates, less than one half of one per cent of the Canadian work force, though still the lifeblood of many coastal communities - but it is responsible for a disproportionate share of onthe-job deaths.

To put that risk into context: Being a deckhand is 14 times more deadly than being a police officer - a job widely perceived as dangerous, and whose on-the-job fatalities garner much public attention.

If anything, fishing fatalities are undercounted: Not all deaths are included in the official workers' comp death counts, because not all fishermen (also called fish harvesters, or fishers - about 80 per cent of people who work in the industry are men) are part of the workers' compensation system - the self-employed aren't fully covered in every jurisdiction in Canada, so they may be underrepresented in the stats.

And in New Brunswick and Prince Edward Island, for example, workers' comp exemptions mean fishing deaths may not be fully counted.

The workers' comp data show 27 deaths in the fishing sector, nationwide, due to traumatic injuries, between 2011 and 2015, the most recent year for which national data are available. A more complete tally, in the marine database of the Transportation Safety Board of Canada, an agency that investigates marine incidents and issues safety recommendations, reveals almost twice as many deaths - 52 fishing fatalities in that time period.

Since 1999, more than 200 fishermen in Canada have lost their lives on the job, the TSB's database of marine incidents shows. That works out to one death in the fishing sector, on average, nearly every month.

Because many fatalities occur in isolated areas, one at a time, they are mostly unpublicized. Some of those who lost their lives were young - a 17-year-old died on his very first day aboard a commercial fishing vessel in Manitoba; a 21-year-old captain went missing with his young crew in a storm in Nova Scotia; in B.C., a 25year-old drowned on his first day of setting prawn traps. Last year, three generations of men from a single family lost their lives when a fishing boat sank in Newfoundland.

A second leg of The Globe's project explored why fishing has not seen improvements in on-the-job fatality rates. Although the annual death count has fallen slightly in the industry in recent years, there are also fewer fishermen. The bottom line: Proportionally, the risks haven't much diminished.

Transportation Safety Board reports and industry interviews reveal a litany of problems, from slow-to-be-enacted safety regulations to a lack of enforcement and inspections, as well as an absence of safety training on boats. Some deaths occur when fish harvesters fall overboard after a vessel is overloaded with catch, and they aren't wearing a personal flotation device.

In some cases, captains bear responsibility for failing to prioritize safety procedures.

"We're moving at great strides in the right direction, but can we prove it statistically yet? We're struggling with that still," says Glenn Budden, the Vancouver-based senior marine investigator at the TSB - an agency that has issued more than 40 fishing-related safety recommendations since 1993, some of which have gone unheeded for more than two decades.

Mr. Budden fished for 35 years, and feels both frustration and anguish, sometimes to the point of tears, at the slow pace of change. These deaths, he says, are not inevitable.

Fishing poses unique challenges for policy-makers and safety advocates. It's an industry composed mostly of small, independent owner-operators, often in remote locations, with fewer large employers, health-and-safety committees or big unions that have typically pushed new safety measures in other sectors.

Mr. Franck has worked in other industries, such as mining and manufacturing, and seen safety improve: In mining, dust is better controlled, and personal protective equipment has improved; in factories, safety precautions have been tightened on assembly lines. Those changes have not yet, however, taken root in fishing, he says. "I don't want to speak negatively about our industry, but in some aspects," he says, "we are 100 years behind."

Follow-up in the wake of fatal accidents can also be lax: A jobrelated death in other sectors triggers a stop-work order; the work site is shut down, investigations are launched. In fishing, often, "there are no repercussions," says Mr. Budden.

At the federal level, Transport Canada has regulatory authority for fishing-vessel safety. The TSB's mandate is to advance transportation safety and make recommendations, some of them aimed squarely at Transport Canada; sometimes the two don't see eye to eye.

This summer, new fishing-vessel safety regulations issued by Transport Canada took effect, aimed at improving safety outcomes - the first update to such rules in more than four decades. They contain new requirements for written safety procedures, safety equipment and vessel stability, and followed 14 years of consultation with industry.

Still, the regulations, which took effect in July, "fall short of what we had hoped for," says TSB chair Kathy Fox, although she adds that the board recognizes that the regulator has to consult with various players.

Thirteen of its fishing-related recommendations are still outstanding, the oldest of which - that Transport Canada require the carriage of survival suits on all vessels - dates to 1993.

Some fishermen have ferociously opposed the new rules, saying they are costly, onerous and ineffective - while some safety experts say the changes don't go nearly far enough.

Regulators, meanwhile, can't police every boat. All of which leaves them faced with what is, in many ways, a psychological challenge: How does one instill a culture of safety in a sector known for its independence, bravado and fierce sense of competition? "I've been in safety for 30 years or more," Mr. Franck says, "and I'm still trying to find how we get people to do the right things because they want to, not because they have to."

Mr. Budden agrees that regulations alone aren't enough: "It's changing that attitude that's been in place for such a long time. And part of it is the old rough-and-tumble fishermen, [who say] 'If the sea takes me, it's an honourable death.' God, it doesn't need to be that way."

External pressures, and tragic choices

Bereaved family members like Marilyn D'Entremont are among a growing legion of people who are now pushing for safety.

For her, the horrible news came at 10 p.m. on Sept. 23, 2004, a calm night under a harvest moon. A neighbour, who was an RCMP constable, pulled up in her police cruiser and knocked on the door. In tears, she told Ms. D'Entremont that there had been an accident at sea.

Her husband, Lewis - a kind, gentle man who loved nature and campfires, cycling, and spending time with his three children - was not coming home.

He died at sea, knocked overboard from a commercial fishing vessel while catching herring at night, in darkness: A piece of equipment was broken, so Lewis, a fishermen with more than 30 years' of experience, had taken on the dangerous job of manually moving a heavy cable at the back edge of the boat.

"I still miss him, every day," says Ms. D'Entremont of her high-school sweetheart, in an interview in Pubnico, an Acadian fishing village at the southern edge of Nova Scotia.

"My son never had a chance to share a beer with his dad; his dad never saw him graduate. My daughters will never have their dad walk them down the aisle. My husband isn't around to see our grandson. It changes your life forever."

And his death was preventable, she believes: If the equipment hadn't been broken in the first place, Lewis wouldn't have been pulled into the water. If he'd had a life vest on, he could have been saved once overboard.

She now goes out on wharves and attends industry events to talk to fishermen about safety culture.

Not that those listening aren't aware of the perils they face. Ask many fishers about whether their job is dangerous, and a common response is: Of course it is. We know. It has long been so. The history of fishing is strewn with dead bodies and missing persons. In two devastating back-to-back seasons - 1926 and 1927 - the "August gales" hit fishing schooners off the Atlantic Coast, pounding Nova Scotians especially hard. More than 130 people lost their lives.

Seven decades later, when Statistics Canada published that detailed analysis on worker fatality rates - the agency has not published one since then - it called the fishing industry "the most dangerous in which to be employed."

Yes, some factors are helping mitigate risks at sea: more accurate weather forecasts, sophisticated navigational tools, reliable communications, advances in safety gear. And at least some fishermen have embraced safety measures. Even so, fishing-vessel fatalities remain "unacceptably high," says Ian Campbell, manager of design and equipment standards for fishing vessels at Transport Canada, who oversaw the creation of the updated safety regulations. And their impact is felt with a particular severity on the East Coast, home to three-quarters of fishing activity in Canada.

Along with the unbending reality of geography, ever-evolving consumer tastes have played a role in elevating fishermen's occupational risk.

Diners these days want their lobster and fish to taste freshly caught; as a result, catches are sometimes stored on boats in liquid tanks, which, when only partly filled with sloshing water, can affect a vessel's stability.

This "free surface effect" raises the risk of capsizing (a risk the new regulations aim to mitigate).

And while reality shows tend to single out particular aspects of fishing, such as the harvesting of Alaskan king crab, as being especially deadly, all types of fishing carry dangers. And it's not, as in The Perfect Storm, just catastrophic conditions that cause fatalities; fishermen are also dying in perfect weather.

That said, climate change is conjuring decidedly less predicable, and more severe, weather at sea. And as some fish stocks become scarcer, there is a temptation for fishermen to head further out - where water is colder and choppier, and where help, when needed, is distant. "One of the biggest increased risks is going further and further from shore to get the best fish," says Mr. Campbell. "When there was abundant cod locally, nobody needed to go far."

Other factors are ones as old as the industry itself: overloaded vessels, poor risk assessment, and do-ityourself modifications to vessels, which can alter their stability. "We have people that are going out and making modifications to their boat in the backyard," says Mr. Franck, by "putting on a huge superstructure, switching from a lobster-fishing boat into a dragger. And now the characteristics of that boat's stability have changed."

Also on-board: fatigue and substance abuse

A bit like the net of a fisherman that's been repaired on the fly, the responsibility for fishing safety is a patchwork in this country. As a result, oversight can slip through the cracks. Although Transport Canada is responsible at the federal level for fishing-vessel safety, it has no mandatory inspection program for smaller vessels, which constitute the majority of Canada's fleet.

Provinces, meanwhile, largely oversee workplace health and safety regulations. One result: a wide variation in approaches. In New Brunswick, for instance, fishing vessels aren't considered a "place of employment"; as a result, they are not subject to workplace legislation, and the province's regulator, WorkSafeNB, does not have jurisdiction over them. Aboard vessels themselves, fishing masters are responsible for their crew's safety. But some captains don't consider themselves employers, and thus feel exempt from responsibility, says Mr. Budden.

The new federal regulations introduced by Transport Canada in July don't address several crucial issues that affect safety, notes Mr. Franck.

Fatigue, which impairs judgment, is chief among them: There are frequent stretches when the captain or crew may get next to no shut-eye.

Fishermen have told the Transportation Safety Board that insufficient sleep and variable rest schedules are commonplace.

In 2012, the board published a sweeping four-year study on fishing safety. A team of investigators consulted more than 300 fishermen, industry and union reps, regulators and safety trainers, and explored why fishing deaths persist, and what ought to be done to save lives. The study cited some fishers who report sleeping as little as two or three hours a night for up to six straight nights. Between 1999 and 2008, the TSB recorded 89 cases of fishermen falling asleep while operating a vessel.

In the trucking industry, for instance, a tired driver can pull over and grab some sleep. But "if your fishery is only so many hours, the reality is you've got to work with the hours that you've got. You can't just fall asleep in the middle of the ocean with a catch of fish," notes Ryan Ford, program manager at Fish Safe B.C., an industry-driven safety program.

Drug and alcohol abuse, says Mr. Franck, also pose genuine threats to safety. Research has shown a high prevalence of addiction among seafarers, including fishermen, fuelled in part by the stress that comes with isolation, dangerous situations, pain, and a desire to combat fatigue.

The TSB cited marijuana use in its report on a 2012 collision between an American and a Canadian fishing vessel in which one crew member is presumed to have drowned.

The TSB also said, in its 2012 safety report, that it recorded 15 fishingrelated incidents between 1999 and 2008 involving alcohol, resulting in a total of five fatalities. Says Mr.

Franck, "If I go to industry and say, 'What can we do better to improve safety in the fishing industry?' ... they tell me that as many as 30 to 70 per cent of the fishing vessels have drug and alcohol problems."

A fierce storm, and financial pressures

Capt. Kat's Lobster Shack serves fresh seafood daily in Barrington Passage, in southwest Nova Scotia, in a county that bills itself as "the lobster capital of Canada." The restaurant's nautical-themed entrance has a lobster trap, a ship's wheel - and a framed picture of the smiling young seafarer for whom the restaurant is named: Katlin Nickerson.

He and his entire young crew aboard the Miss Ally went down in a massive storm in February, 2013, while fishing for halibut. The conditions were terrible: hurricane-force winds, and waves more than 10 metres high. Other fishermen had turned back. But the men on the Cape Islander vessel stayed out in the stormy waters as they worked to retrieve their gear. The Miss Ally's lights had broken, and the crew was in utter darkness - in the same moments that a nearby weather buoy was registering a rogue wave measuring a staggering 18.6 metres, or 61 feet.

Their five bodies were never found. The men were well known.

People in the surrounding communities were devastated. But the TSB didn't conduct a full-blown investigation of the sinking, concluding, after some initial examinations into the disaster, that it couldn't identify factors that would advance safety. It was a decision that drew criticism from those in the province who wanted answers.

Mr. Nickerson was just 21. His mom, Della Sears, sits in a quiet corner of the restaurant she now coowns. It's been four and a half years since that deadly night. The pain is still raw. "I think about him every day, all day long," she says. "I wish he'd walk in that door."

With $700,000 in debts to finance a boat, gear and lobster license - in a year of plunging lobster prices - Mr.

Nickerson was trying to pay the bills by winter fishing. "Katlin was young, and he was fierce, and he was not afraid of work," she says. "He was just trying to make a living."

Though there were immersion suits aboard (which can protect a wearer from hypothermia), it's unclear whether they were used.

Like Ms. D'Entremont, Ms. Sears hopes to see change come from her loved one's death. For starters, she'd like to see safety gear become the norm. She also would like to see fishermen wear small personal tracking beacons, in case they fall overboard. While such beacons might not save fishers, they would help bring the bodies home when the worst has happened.

Ms. Sears's wrist is tattooed with her son's name, as well as the latitude and longitude of his last co-ordinates, and the time the emergency signal on his boat went off: 11:06 pm.

Just over the causeway, in nearby Clark's Harbour, on Cape Sable Island, the wharf is shrouded in thick fog. Two young men are checking their gear, which includes harpoons and darts. They are jonesing to go swordfishing, the moment the fog lifts. They know all the young men who died on the Miss Ally. One of these men was even out on the rough waters the next day, searching for the lost men, in vain.

As for their own determination to continue their livelihood on the sea, they say they try not to think about the dangers. "It's risky," says one, shrugging. "Accidents happen." His companion tells the story of once being dragged overboard by a rapidly unspooling rope. It was a close call.

But neither man is willing to wear a life vest. They're hot, they say, and uncomfortable. (This is true of the older versions; newer designs of personal flotation devices, or PFDs, which can cost as much as $400 a piece, are made to be less obtrusive).

When asked how they view Transport Canada's new safety regulations, the answer is short: "Bull."

One of the joys of their job, they say, is that when they're out on the water, no one can tell them what to do.

It's the kind of attitude that exasperates Stewart Franck. He took over the helm of the Fisheries Safety Association in 2011, soon after the introduction of an annual levy on the industry of up to $200 to promote better safety in the sector. The move was so widely reviled that Mr. Franck experienced both legal threats and promises to burn down his house. But the cost of that levy, he says, has been more than offset - improved safety outcomes since that time have led to reduced workers' comp premiums, saving employers money in reduced payments.

Mr. Franck wearily points to a Facebook fight from earlier this year that exemplifies the resistance he has encountered. The May 31 entry, on the Safety Association's page, starts with its post of a news photo of lobster fishermen at work on a boat. An accompanying caption notes that none of the crew is wearing a personal flotation device, and says there is still "a LOT of work to do to promote safe attitudes and behaviours in the NS fishing industry."

Among the responses posted: "Some of this safety stuff is just a money grab." "All the safty gear in the world is not gonna stop the odd accident from happening ... you cant bubble wrap the whole world."

"While you are talking safety, maybe they should enforce no drugs or alcohol." "Fine me all they want, I ain't wearing [a PFD] on the wharf."

Such attitudes are not universal, but where they exist, chipping away at them takes time. Still, it's happening in at least some parts of the country. British Columbia has become a leader in encouraging safer practices among fishermen. The province has regulations specifically geared to the commercial fishing industry, and WorkSafeBC conducts inspections and accident investigations. Since 2009, Fish Safe B.C. has offered free safety training; more than 2,500 commercial fishermen - skippers and crew - have participated so far, and its Safest Catch program is now being piloted on the East Coast. Fish Safe also runs a "Real Fishermen" campaign, featuring posters of manly fishers wearing their PFDs.

While at some wharves in Nova Scotia nearly all fishermen now wear such devices, at others, the figure is more like 20 per cent - or even lower, says Mr. Franck. And it is a figure that may prove difficult to budge. In Shelburne, Gary Dedrick, who has fished for almost five decades - since the age of 12 - and once survived hypothermia after falling from his boat into winter waters, points to the names on the fishermen's memorial of the 15 men he knew. He describes government regulations as "bureaucratic stuff that doesn't make any sense."

Says Mr. Dedrick: "Any type of fishing you do, there're moving parts on that boat, it's always moving. When your workplace is moving and the equipment is moving, there's a chance of something happening."

Knives, ropes, roaring motors

It's 4 a.m. on the first day of snowcrab season on the Hurricane Henry, a 39-foot, orange-and-white fishing boat. On this calm morning in midJuly, in the predawn darkness, Andrew Bourgeois, the vessel's 25year-old captain, casts his boat from the wharf in Chéticamp, Cape Breton Island, a Globe and Mail reporter and photographer in tow.

Conditions could not be better: clear skies, the smallest of waves, gentle breezes.

And yet even on the most sublime of days, there are astonishingly hazardous moments: The roar of the motor can make it hard to hear: A man-overboard splash, or a cry for help, can easily go unnoticed, especially in the dark.

Eight kilometres out, the crew will retrieve the crab traps, empty them, insert new bait of squid and mackerel, and toss them back again. To begin this process, a heavy boom swings around, used to raise and lower ropes with the crab traps attached.

The swaying, crab-laden pots must be hauled over the edge of the boat and onto the deck. They are so heavy - about a thousand pounds, or 450 kilograms, apiece - that even on a stable boat, the centre of gravity shifts. Sometimes, those traps can get caught, or a rope breaks, and they fall on anyone below. ("If it hits you, you're done," says crew member Joel Camus.)

A crewman then wields a large knife to pry open the on-board hatches where the crab will be thrown - gaping holes in the deck.

Sharp steel plates wall in the crabs.

To rebait the pots, an agile crew member named Matthew Bourgeois - Andrew's cousin - climbs up onto an empty cage, and lies across the top of it, as it hovers over the water.

The rails of the boat are low, less than a metre in height - good for fishing, bad for keeping people on board when a big wave hits. And many boats operate with just two members: The captain, in the wheelhouse, may not immediately notice if the deckhand has been caught in a rope.

Ropes themselves are a danger (to both fishermen, and, scientists have noted recently, to right whales).

When the baited crab trap is thrown back into the sea, the rope uncoils rapidly. One errant crew member's foot, an inch too near that rope, can pull him in and drag him under.

Ropes can also get tangled or knotted, and unsnarling them can lead to trouble. The Globe heard countless stories of ropes, caught on a leg or piece of clothing, that had pulled people overboard. Some of those people survived, especially those who wore a flotation device; others did not.

On this day, the three-man crew wear PFDs most - but not all - of the time. They work at breakneck speed; their choreography is beautiful in the morning light.

To be sure, other workplaces house heavy equipment and involve loud noises and sharp edges and even holes underfoot. None, however, have a floor that never stays still, bouncing and heaving: zigzagging through the sea. Add to that ice that's meant to keep the crab cool, spilled from a shovel, and now melting underfoot. To say nothing of runaway crabs and loose ropes - all with the unforgiving ocean just a step or two away. And all this on a summer day. As boats ice up in winter, the risks can multiply exponentially.

But where a landlubber might see jeopardy, those who work this life often frame their jobs in terms of adventure. "I got a passion for it," says Mr. Camus, 54, whose mother tongue, like that of his crew mates, is French. "In 41 years, no two days are the same. The elements of weather.

You see birds, whales. Every day is new."

Mr. Camus focuses on those upsides despite having seen his share of tragedy. One man he knew fell into cold water while setting lobster traps a few years ago. The captain grasped his outstretched hand in the water, but then had to let it go. The man drowned.

And of course, there are the financial rewards. When the fifth and final trap is hoisted today, it is brimming with crab: more than 1,100 pounds (or 500 kg), worth about $6,500. It will go to the United States and as far as Japan and China, where demand for seafood is booming. High prices have made fishing lucrative for some people in recent years - as evidenced by expensive pick-up trucks and large new houses that dot some villages.

For those with limited education, living in towns with few other well-paying job opportunities, the pay outweighs the perceived risks.

A hesitation to impose change

For the Transportation Safety Board's Mr. Budden, the danger that comes with every catch hits close to home.

His father died at sea; he himself has fished from the age of 15. In the course of nine marine investigations that he has conducted at the agency, he has sat with many bereaved family members, and listened firsthand to their grief.

Decades of in-depth TSB investigations show that nearly all fishing deaths are preventable, he says. The attitude that fatalities are an accepted job risk, he adds, "is wrong, and that needs to be addressed" - and could be, in many cases, by fishers simply wearing a personal flotation device.

But requiring that fishermen wear such devices at all times while on deck - as well as insisting on stability assessments (with clear guidelines on how much weight the boat can carry) for all boats - is something that Transport Canada seems reluctant to do. That's in part because the department is keenly aware of the challenges the industry faces. "Fishing is a key industry in Canada and it's a livelihood in many parts of the country," says Transport Canada's Mr. Campbell. "So, the department had to be very clear that it was taking into account the impacts, that there may be some costs associated with safety, and that those were well taken into consideration, so that there would be no unnecessary burdens on the industry folks."

The TSB has noted that the average time between Transport Canada accepting a safety deficiency and final implementation of a regulatory change is 13 years. "Transport Canada has been slow," says TSB chair Fox, in addressing outstanding recommendations.

As long as Transport Canada doesn't require fishermen to wear PFDs at all times when on deck, the TSB noted in July, "there is an increased risk of fatalities when fishermen fall overboard."

For his part, says Mr. Campbell of Transport Canada, "You've got a wide and varied industry, made up of small operators. It's different in the logging or mining industries, where you have larger corporations [that] tend to acknowledge quicker the risks and the liabilities that they absorb for employees." In fishing, he notes, "you've got small-vessel operators who don't often understand the obligation that they have. And there's the national nature of it.

Across the coasts, we have about 20,000 fishing vessels in this country ... there's difficulty in accessing fishermen to talk to."

Certainly fishermen have sometimes been angered by what they see as government overreach. Tensions are such that some East Coast fishermen stormed out of meetings with Transport Canada earlier this year, saying they needed more time and clarity on the new regulations. Some cited concern about the cost of buying new equipment.

Transport Canada has not been communicative enough, they say, in its dealings with a sector in which messages are more effectively conveyed on the wharf than by posting notices on websites - in PEI, longtime fisherman Craig Avery estimates about half of fishermen in the province "still are not schooled on the Internet and computers."

To others, the issue is an even broader one involving communication: Regulators can play a key role in bolstering safety, they say, but ultimately, it's a shared responsibility, says Ms. Fox. "As long as all the stakeholders don't work together to reduce the risks of loss of life," she says, "we're going to continue to see fishing fatalities, many of which are preventable."

A plea from those left behind

When she speaks to fishermen's groups, Marilyn D'Entremont asks them: "Who do you have at home that's waiting for you? And sometimes they'll answer, 'My daughter' or 'My wife.' I say, 'Well, wear a PFD for her. If you don't wear it for yourself, wear it for your children and your loved ones. Because they are the ones who are going to miss you, if you don't come home. It's as simple as that.'" Ms. D'Entremont is not alone in pushing for change. Near Halifax, Heather Crout has channelled her grief over losing her husband, Scott, who went missing (and is presumed drowned) while fishing for herring in 2009, into targeted actions to prevent more deaths. She painted and sold 10 watercolour pictures of stages of Scott's life at sea. With the proceeds, combined with donations and money she gets from speaking on workplace safety, she buys those high-tech $400 life vests, and gives them to local fishermen - 23 in all, so far.

And broader change is afoot from some unexpected quarters, driven in part by the attitudes toward safety in other sectors. In Newfoundland, a province that has beefed up safety training, Roy Gibbons, a fishing-masters instructor and former fisherman, says a stronger sense of safety practices is prevalent in young workers - especially those who have spent time in the oil patch.

"There's been a cultural shift.

We've got a lot of fishermen who've gone out to the oil fields of Alberta, and a lot of them are back now because of the drop in oil. And what we're seeing is that they're coming back with a safety culture that they didn't go away with...They come on board a boat and they don't mind wearing a hard hat or safety glasses.

As a matter of fact, they got all their own gear, a lot of 'em."

Consumers offer hope

Consumers may not connect the lobster roll on their plates with the deadly toll it takes to get it there. But they do, increasingly, want to know more about where their seafood comes from and how it was caught.

"One of the keys to our business is connecting our customers with the fishery," says Kristin Donovan, coowner of fishmonger Hooked, which now has four locations in Toronto, and which focus on responsible fishing practices and in cultivating "direct relationships between fisher and consumer."

The Marine Stewardship Council, meanwhile, a non-profit organization that promotes sustainable fishing practices, is introducing labour practices to its process of certifying seafood supply chains. Starting next year, the council will require certified fisheries to declare they are free from "unacceptable" labour practices, and ask them for evidence to support this claim. Although its current focus is on forced labour, it sees growing interest from retailers in social-welfare issues within the seafood market.

A global survey it commissioned last year found that Canadian consumers are willing to pay more for sustainable fish sources; and twothirds of respondents said they wanted more "traceability" that shows their seafood comes from a trusted source. More than half were concerned "that the fish they buy comes from a company that does not care about working conditions."

Consumers increasingly want to know the story behind the fish, Ms.

Donovan says - what the fishery is like and who caught the fish. Any sense that an operation doesn't treat its workers well or blatantly disregards health and safety issues "definitely would affect our buying choices" she says

Early signs of on-board change

Fishing is a hierarchical operation - the crew follows the skipper's orders.

This has sparked some innovative ideas aimed at incrementally changing attitudes. When focus groups for WorkSafeBC showed that the skipper sets the tone on the boat and that they can influence whether the crew wears life vests, the organization took inspiration from the fact that fishermen often play a few rounds of cards at sea - and created a pack of playing cards. The front of each face card shows the skipper and crew, all happily sporting PFDs.

Some captains, meanwhile, keenly aware that they are responsible for on-board safety, are leading by example. In Cape Breton, Leonard LeBlanc is one of them. People laughed when he started wearing a life vest on board more than a decade ago. But he was dead serious when he made wearing PFDs a mandatory requirement for anyone working on his boat. And he led efforts last year to buy 1,100 of them for local fleet members.

The makers of personal flotation devices are also doing their bit to make PFDs the fisherman's friend.

For decades, no one had gotten around to designing such devices with commercial fishers in mind.

Most models chafed at the neck; some had parts that snagged on ropes, or could accidentally inflate with a little too much ease. After consultations with the industry, a range of new designs are snag-free, lightweight and breathable. And they automatically inflate only when they hit the water.

Such improvements are making it easier for fishers like Mr. LeBlanc to convert the once-inconvertible: This year, his fleet planning board, an umbrella group of five organizations that represent 500 fish harvesters in the region, is buying 1,200 immersion suits and 600 emergency radio beacons for members, at a total investment of more than $1.5million. "We've come a hell of a long way - now, it's not taboo to talk safety," says Mr. LeBlanc, who is somewhat of an anomaly in wanting more enforcement, mandatory training and labour inspections on boats.

The message is showing early signs that it may be getting through: Fishing fatalities in the province have fallen in the past two years, and Mr. LeBlanc cites several recent cases where personal flotation devices literally saved lives.

And, beyond PFDs, there are improvements afoot in Nova Scotia.

Some local committees and the Department of Fisheries now won't open the fishing season if the weather is bad.

Still, says Mr. LeBlanc, "weird things happen" out on the water, where unpredictability is the only constant. Despite his vigilance, he himself has had close calls: He once fell between two boats at the wharf, into icy water; another time, a rope caught on his oilskin and nearly pulled him overboard; and his boat was once slammed by a rogue wave.

Indeed, he has experienced as severe a maritime tragedy as anyone could be expected to endure: When his son Matthew was 5, he was killed in a freak explosion aboard Mr. LeBlanc's boat, while out in the Cheticamp Harbour.

"I don't want anybody," he says, "walking in my shoes."

With research assistance from Stephanie Chambers ..

Tavia Grant is reporter at The Globe and Mail

Associated Graphic

Marilyn D'Entremont runs her hand over the name of her late husband, Lewis, at the Yarmouth memorial for those lost at sea. 'I still miss him, every day,' says Ms. D'Entremont of her high-school sweetheart, a fisherman with 30 years' experience who was moving a heavy cable at the back edge of a commercial fishing vessel when he was knocked overboard.


Marilyn D'Entrement believes that the death of her husband, Lewis (above), was preventable. She now goes out on wharves and attends industry events to talk to fishermen about safety culture.


The hazards are many on a crabbing vessel like Andrew Bourgeois's - slippery decks, low rails, and ropes that can catch legs or garments and pull a person overboard.


Despite the hazardous nature of the work, crew member Joel Camus loves it. 'In 41 years, no two days are the same...You see birds, whales. Every day is new.'



An obscure Canadian website that disseminates conspiracy theories and Kremlin-friendly points of view is an amplifier of global disinformation, according to NATO
Saturday, November 18, 2017 – Print Edition, Page F2

MONTREAL, RIGA -- In an upscale condo in Old Montreal owned by a retired University of Ottawa professor sits the headquarters of a website that is now in NATO's sights, with the military alliance investigating, among other things, the online spread of pro-Russia propaganda and of disinformation that props up the regime of President Bashar al-Assad in Syria.

The website,, is ostensibly the online arm of the Centre for Research on Globalization, which has the trappings of a think tank and styles some of its regular contributors as "senior fellows." But it is the media that matters: Its online content and its amplification on social media form the core of its activities.

The site has posted more than 40,000 of its own pieces since it was launched in 2001, according to one long-time contributor. But it does more: It picks up reports from other, often obscure websites, thus giving them a Global Research link. Those reports often get cross-posted on a series of other sites or aggressively spread across Facebook and Twitter by followers who actively share or retweet them, including a number of social botnets, or bots - automated accounts programmed to spread certain content.

The site has disseminated articles that claimed the Assad regime was not behind the April chemical weapon attack that drew a punitive U.S. missile strike, also suggesting it was a hoax and that the deadly nerve agent sarin was not used. It spread other false reports, such as a claim that NATO was preparing to deploy 3,600 tanks near the Russian border as part of a mission to Eastern Europe.

The site initially drew attention for claiming that the Sept. 11 attacks in the United States were a false-flag operation orchestrated by the CIA.

But what once appeared to be a relatively harmless online refuge for conspiracy theorists is now seen by NATO's information warfare specialists as a link in a concerted effort to undermine the credibility of mainstream Western media - as well as the North American and European public's trust in government and public institutions.

The spread of online disinformation had become a heated political concern amid U.S. intelligence reports that Russia sought to use it to influence the 2016 U.S. presidential election. In May, Canadian Foreign Affairs Minister Chrystia Freeland warned that such tactics could be used here. On Monday, British Prime Minister Theresa May accused Russia of seeking to "weaponize information." In October, Facebook released a sampling of political ads bought by Russians that were aimed at U.S. audiences - many were not about candidates but sought to gin up divisions, including ads that supported and attacked the anti-racism movement Black Lives Matter.

Global Research is viewed by NATO's Strategic Communications Centre of Excellence - or StratCom - as playing a key accelerant role in helping popularize articles with little basis in fact that also happen to fit the narratives being pushed by the Kremlin, in particular, and the Assad regime.

At its headquarters in Riga, StratCom researchers consider to be a link in a network that reposts such stories. "That way, they increase the Google ranking of the story and create the illusion of multisource verification," said Donara Barojan, who does digital forensic research for the centre. But she said she did not yet have proof that Global Research is connected to any government.

The site's founder, Michel Chossudovsky, has long been an iconoclast, a leftist University of Ottawa economics professor who challenges mainstream capitalist economics.

Locally, he gained brief notoriety when his theories of Israeli cabals sparked allegations of anti-Semitism. His site,, tends to view the United States as a militaristic aggressor and NATO as its warmongering tool - views also promoted by Russia. It also asserts the United States is behind extremists such as the Islamic State and its allies, a view promoted by the Assad regime.

So is just an outlet for views that happen to align with those of the Kremlin and Damascus? Or is it affiliated?

Mr. Chossudovsky didn't want to discuss that. He has spoken occasionally to reporters over the years to expound his political theories, but when The Globe and Mail went to his waterfront home in L'Île Cadieux, Que., in May, he declined to speak about how functions and whether it is aligned with Moscow or any other government.

"Not on that topic," he said, insisting "it would not be appropriate," without explaining further. He then said he had an appointment and had to go.

This week, after The Globe made another attempt to ask questions about the website, Mr. Chossudovsky responded through a lawyer, Daniel Lévesque. In a letter, Mr. Lévesque said the Centre for Research on Globalization denies that it is part of a network of proRussia or pro-Assad sites or that it is "affiliated with governmental organizations or benefits from their support."

Global Research has from the beginning espoused conspiracy theories, including that the United States and its allies continue to support and fund Islamist extremists, including al-Qaeda and IS, and has taken the view that the U.S.-led NATO alliance is fomenting war around the world. But it took on those themes long before it was common to accuse Mr. Putin of mounting a disinformation war.

Global Research has developed unusual reach for a site that specializes in conspiracy-heavy anti-Western articles on international relations.

It uses that reach to push not only its own opinion pieces, but "news" reports from little-known websites that regularly carry dubious or false information. At times, the site's regular variety of international-affairs stories is replaced with a flurry of items that bolster dubious reportage with a series of opinion pieces, promoted on social media and retweeted and shared by active bots.

The Global Research site is prolific, and of course the editors don't necessarily agree with all the content that is posted.

In the case of the April 4 sarin-gas attack on the rebel-held Syrian town of Khan Sheikhoun that killed more than 80 people - and which sparked U.S. President Donald Trump to order a cruise-missile strike on the Syrian air base from which the attack was launched - was among the first to carry a story that claimed the Syrian regime was innocent of the attack and that terrorists hoping to lure the United States into the war against Mr. al-Assad were to blame.

The article first appeared in alMasdar News, a pro-Assad website that appears to be run from Beirut.

It was written by Paul Antonopoulos, who now writes for the pro-Russia Fort Russ news portal. But after republished the same article word for word, it rippled out widely through the internet. Global Research's Facebook counter shows it was shared more than 6,000 times. On Twitter, it was mentioned hundreds of times. The article's assertions were soon quoted in or republished by a dozen other outlets identified by StratCom as either "pro-Kremlin or anti-Western."

Among them was the influential InfoWars website, which is widely read among the so-called "alt-right" movement - a loose confederation of U.S. white supremacists and nativists - that supported Mr. Trump's run for the White House. The hashtag #syriahoax began trending on Twitter.

The al-Masdar article repeated the Syrian government's claim that it has no chemical weapons. It suggested "terrorist forces have once again created a false flag scenario," asserting the casualties could not have been caused by sarin gas, as was believed, because photographs showed rescue workers without gloves near the bodies of the victims, and that "local sources" said the bodies were those of people kidnapped by al-Qaeda a week earlier.

Alternatively, it stated, the deaths might have been the result of the Syrian air force bombing a warehouse where the local al-Qaeda affiliate had been manufacturing chemical weapons.

The latter is the version of events the Kremlin has been advancing, although a reporter from Britain's The Guardian newspaper who visited Khan Sheikhoun two days after the attack found that the building Moscow identified as a chemical-weapons warehouse was only "half-destroyed silos reeking of leftover grain and animal manure."

The United States says it has satellite evidence showing the Syrian air force deliberately carried out the chemical attack on the town. U.S. Secretary of State Rex Tillerson has charged that Russia either knew of or was willfully blind about the attack. The Organization for the Prohibition of Chemical Weapons, which is based in The Hague, found that sarin was indeed used in the attack. In September, a UN commission of inquiry reported that Syria's military was responsible.

The Khan Sheikhoun story was an example of amplifying a story from an obscure source. Janis Sarts, the director of StratCom, said repeatedly played a role in disseminating "disinformation" by giving pro-Russia and pro-Assad stories a wider audience and a veneer of credibility by publishing them through an authoritative-sounding Canadian source.

He said it would be "very difficult" for larger news organizations such as Russian and Iranian state news agencies to pick up an article from an obscure source such as al-Masdar, but when it is circulated through Global Research, "then they say, 'Oh! In the West they're saying this!' " Unlike al-Masdar News, which Mr.

Sarts said had a limited reach, claims to have more than 2.7 million unique visitors a month.

Among the 25,000 accounts that follow the Centre for Research on Globalization on Twitter are Russia's Ministry of Foreign Affairs, the Russian embassy in Canada and the Russian International Affairs Council, a Kremlin think tank.

It is not only a site that reposts articles from little-known sites for its wider readership. It pushes the narrative. In the case of the sarin attack, it quickly supplemented the al-Masdar hoax story with a series of articles and opinion pieces that took the false flag and mistaken-blame narrative for granted - both before and after the April 7 U.S. missile strikes.

In the week after Khan Sheikhoun, the 10 most-tweeted articles were about the gas attack, according to social-media analytics tools. In addition to the alMasdar story, they included a piece with the headline, Did Hillary approve sending sarin to rebels?, and several that argued the attack was a false flag to justify a regime change operation.

They were spread on Twitter by a mix of far-right, alt-left and anarchist groups - and bots. In fact, this is now a feature of's reach: It is being aggressively amplified by Twitter users pushing its content, including automated accounts. Because Twitter allows users anonymity, it's hard to say with certainty which accounts are bots, but some exhibit the hallmarks of automation, such as excessively heavy tweeting or a high percentage of retweets.

The now-suspended account @YOUNGFiREBRAND, which uses the name "God's Lion," appeared to take a fire-and-brimstone view of the world and mentioned more than 700 times the week after the Khan Sheikhoun attack. Another prolific retweeter, @Col_Connaughton, is a virulently anti-Israel, pro-Iran account that tweets more than a human can: Its 1.5 million tweets amount to 600 a day, every day, for seven years.

The account @elzi0n, whose Twitter bio claims he is Australian and, among other things, a truth-seeker, activist and hip-hop purist, is a heavy retweeter of stories. The account has 182,000 followers, but many, if not most, are automated corporate or PR accounts that makes @elzi0n look more influential than it is. Its tweets are rarely its own. Mostly it retweets posts and stories from other sources, especially RT - the statefunded TV and online service formerly called Russia Today - British conspiracy blogger David Icke and Global Research.

And then there is cross-posting.

Global Research frequently republishes articles that first appeared on RT or the Kremlin-run Sputnik news agency, which also frequently quotes Mr. Chossudovsky as a source. And it gives content from obscure sites exposure.

"There's this whole system of cross-posting articles, where you generate views for another website and you start doing favours," said Guillaume Kress, who worked as an editorial assistant at Global Research. "I don't know much about the system itself, but it's very, very interesting."

Mr. Chossudovsky is treated as an esteemed researcher when he appears on RT and its op-ed website, which carries a bio that calls him "an award-winning author, professor of economics (emeritus) at the University of Ottawa, founder and director of the Centre for Research on Globalization."

Other writers for the site are similarly lionized by RT. F. Willam Engdahl, whose writing includes reports that the CIA is behind pro-democracy movements in Hungary and that genetically modified organisms are part of a conspiracy designed just after the Second World War to control the world's food supply, has written for publications of the conspiracy-minded Lyndon LaRouche political movement, which sees Prince Charles as the leader of an evil international plot, and for Global Research. His RT bio calls him "an award-winning geopolitical analyst and strategic risk consultant" and a "Research Associate of the Centre for Research on Globalization in Montreal."

Among's listed "partner websites" is the Moscowbased Strategic Culture Foundation, known for promoting the Kremlin narrative that the ouster of Ukrainian president Viktor Yanukovych was a Western-backed coup d'état rather than a popular revolution. Its contributors include pro-Russian authors such as Andrew Korybko, a former journalist with Sputnik who now works for pro-Russian think tank Katehon, and Jerome Corsi, now the Washington bureau chief for the U.S. conspiracy site InfoWars.

It is clear that Global Research is in some sense now part of an online network. What's not clear is whether Mr. Chossudovsky's site is trying to amplify the views of the Kremlin and the Assad regime or whether his views are being amplified by proRussia, pro-Assad networks who favour's storylines.

Mr. Kress, who started working for Global Research as a kind of intern just after graduating from Concordia University, quickly became a paid employee who woke early every day, including weekends, to post stories.

He believes it is the latter - that Global Research's political leanings mean its content is "in line with Russian media in general.

"It shouldn't be surprising to anyone, given what the big themes are for Global Research. I mean, anti-U.S., NATO," he said. "That kind of sounds like Russia to me."

Tracing firm links is difficult.

Those Facebook ads were linked to Russian operatives, not a direct Kremlin purchase. Russian state news sites such as RT and Sputnik have overt links to Moscow. There are sites with less direct links, such as The Duran, whose founders include former RT pundits. But there are also a number of alternative sites that regularly post views in line with Moscow's but assert they are independent. Sites such as, which identify what they believe to be Russian propaganda sites - including - have led to counterallegations that there is a McCarthyist attempt to marginalize their politics.

Phil Taylor, a Sputnik International blogger, published a book called Putin's Praetorians: Confessions of the Top Kremlin Trolls, in which pro-Russia writers such as Global Research's Mr. Engdahl try to debunk the notion of Kremlin-backed propaganda, all the while "confessing" the reasons they admire Russian President Vladimir Putin.

Mr. Chossudovsky and his wife, retired CEGEP teacher Micheline Ladouceur, who edits the Frenchlanguage version of the site, appear to have begun with a handful of contributors. Some were other retired academics, often writing opinions on matters outside their fields - usually sympathizers with the anticapitalist or anti-war leanings of the site.

Mr. Kress, now a business student in France, said he was looking to do some form of writing or journalism after graduating from Concordia and answered a Global Research ad. He ended up working there for eight months, eventually finding the site's "heavy" content stressful. He became frustrated that it didn't really have, in his view, a consistent voice or a coherent theory, but he said he believes that Mr. Chossudovsky believes in what he's doing.

The site, according to Mr. Kress, is operated by a small support staff, with the articles chosen by Mr. Chossudovsky from other sites or contributors who submit articles in a "constant inflow" from around the world. Mr. Kress said it's a "small organization" but didn't want to say how many people work for Global Research or talk about them. He did not explain why. He said he worked from home, posting articles using the open source software WordPress, but did not say if others worked from Mr. Chossudovsky's L'Île-Cadieux home, a wooded property with an assessed value of $1.1million, or his Old Montreal condo.

The size of the organization is surprisingly hard to discern, especially since Mr. Chossudovsky did not want to discuss it. The website lists "research associates" and "correspondents," who are essentially its regular contributors, and a group of four or five editors and administrators. In addition to Mr. Chossudovsky and his wife, there is an office manager, Alex Vlaanderen, and typically one or two others. For a year, Mr. Kress was listed as a "consultant."

He said the site has revenue from ads and believed it may also benefit financially from cross-posting content from other sites, but he did not know. The site's web traffic helps it earn revenue from display ads through online ad resellers.

But it appears Global Research's traffic was hit by Google's efforts to reduce the "viral" impact of fake news and purveyors of unsubstantiated conspiracy theories. The site touts itself as one of the 15,000 most-visited in the world, according to Alexa, a web-traffic analytics site; but by November, Alexa said it was not even in the top 24,000.

(Some sites have complained that Google's search-engine change has also hit the traffic of left-wing websites that aren't known for spreading false information. For instance, the World Socialist Web Site, a Trotskyite site, complained in July that its traffic had plummeted after Google's changes.)

In October, Mr. Chossudovsky made an online appeal for help.

Global Research, he said, "is facing financial difficulties.

"To reverse the Tide of Media Disinformation, we Need your Support."

Jules Dufour, a former university geography professor in Saguenay, Que., was one of Mr. Chossudovsky's longest-serving contributors. Before he died in August, he told The Globe and Mail in an interview that he was an anti-war activist who saw as having a mission to "denounce lies," notably about conflicts.

What about its conspiracy theories? "Well, there are certainly conspiracies. History demonstrates it," Mr. Dufour said. The justification for going to war with Saddam Hussein was false, he said, and so was the assertion that the Assad regime was behind the chemical attack on Khan Sheikhoun. Mr. Dufour didn't seem very worried that Global Research was spreading false information from obscure sources, either. "There may be things like that, but it's hard to control everything," he said.

The false information is not limited to topics that fit the site's purported international-relations mission. During the 2016 U.S. presidential election campaign, published a piece by a Florida anesthesiologist who claimed that Democratic candidate Hillary Clinton had Parkinson's disease - a claim that was circulated on far right and pro-Russia conspiracy sites and repeated by Trump supporters until it was mooted in mainstream tabloids and debunked by fact-checking site Snopes and physicians with knowledge of the disease.

StratCom first took note of in January, when it was the first website to republish an article - originally carried by the Donbass International News Agency, a pro-Kremlin news service that operates out of separatist-controlled eastern Ukraine - alleging that the United States had 3,600 tanks ready to deploy near the Russian border as part of a NATO mission.

The real number of tanks deployed to Poland and the Baltic States of Lithuania, Latvia and Estonia under Operation Atlantic Resolve was 87.

Despite the dubious nature of the source and the easily checked facts (the United States only has 8,848 tanks worldwide), carried the Donbass story verbatim, with Mr. Chossudovsky penning an introduction hypothesizing that the large military buildup could be departing U.S. president Barack Obama's retribution for Russia's alleged hacking attacks during the U.S. election.

The article then spread through some of the same websites that republished the Syria hoax story, before a toned-down version of the tale - mentioning 200 U.S. tanks - appeared on the RT website.

"What we found was that Global Research was essential in getting the '3,600 tanks' story more mainstream attention. Once it was picked up by them, it was picked up by their network of loyal allies," said StratCom's Ms. Barojan, who also does digital research for the Atlantic Council, a U.S.-government-affiliated think tank.

Mr. Kress said he thought Mr.

Chossudovsky believed in his site's mission, but he clearly liked it when Global Research content went viral.

"He asked me to clickbait," Mr. Kress said.

The young editorial assistant used the internet to put together a piece that claimed the Rockefeller Foundation had patented the Zika virus - when, in fact, researchers for the foundation had merely deposited a strain of the virus with an organization that preserves micro-organisms for research. But Mr. Kress's piece "blew up the internet," in his words, spreading around a series of sites, including InfoWars.

"It was just something I did, kind of like, in my room at 1 a.m., because I noticed something on some other - I checked the Zika virus website and just kind of copypasted what I saw there and put quotes and linked my article to it.

And basically, yeah, it worked. But he liked that. And I didn't really like it - deep down."

Campbell Clark is chief political writer with The Globe and Mail's Ottawa bureau Mark MacKinnon is The Globe and Mail's senior international correspondent

Associated Graphic

A man carries a child following a suspected chemical attack in the Syrian town of Khan Sheikhoun in April. In the week after the attack,'s 10-most-tweeted articles were about the attack, including some that spread conspiracy theories.


Michel Chossudovsky, founder of, is a retired leftist University of Ottawa economics professor who challenges mainstream capitalist economics, once gaining brief local notoriety for theories about Israeli cabals.


Thursday, November 23, 2017


A Saturday Focus article on an investigation into pro-Russia propaganda included an incorrect surname for the author of a book called Putin's Praetorians. He is Phil Butler, not Phil Taylor as published.

Meet America's prophet of protectionism
Robert Lighthizer, life-long champion of U.S. economic nationalism, may well be the man who determines if one of the world's most lucrative free-trade zones lives or dies
Saturday, October 28, 2017 – Print Edition, Page B6

On the first day of talks to overhaul the North American freetrade agreement, Robert Lighthizer swiftly dispensed with pleasantries.

At a Washington hotel ballroom on Aug. 16 - in front of hundreds of negotiators, business leaders and reporters - the United States Trade Representative declared the deal had "fundamentally failed many, many Americans," accused Canada and Mexico of profiting at the expense of the United States and served notice that he would demand tough, new protectionist measures.

Canadian officials were blindsided.

They had believed President Donald Trump's campaign-trail bluster would be kept out of the negotiating room. And many had assumed the United States could be satisfied with a few small changes that fundamentally did not hurt the open market between the three countries. Publicly, the Canadians would play down the episode - "trade negotiations often have moments of heated rhetoric," was a muchrepeated talking-point - but insiders confide they were taken aback by the broadside.

Those who know Mr. Lighthizer say they should not have been surprised.

The lanky, 70-year-old lawyer with a shock of wavy red hair has spent his entire adult life fighting for the cause of economic nationalism.

As a top trade official in the Reagan administration, he cut deals to keep foreign steel out of the United States. In 30 years of private practice, he battled for American companies seeking punitive duties on imports. And even as unabashed embrace of open markets became an article of faith in his Republican Party, Mr. Lighthizer proudly held himself apart. In his view, free-trade boosters are naive idealists and he is the clear-eyed pragmatist who sees the country's trading partners as the cheats they really are, and is willing to deal with them harshly.

His speech that August morning set the tone for what was to come.

Over the past two months, he has demanded a 50 per cent U.S. content requirement in all vehicles made in Canada and Mexico, severe restrictions on the amount of American government procurement Canadian and Mexican firms can bid on and a gutting of NAFTA's dispute settlement mechanisms.

When the other two countries refused to acquiesce, Mr. Lighthizer publicly berated them at the end of the fourth round of negotiations in Washington last week.

"Frankly, I am surprised and disappointed by the resistance to change from our negotiating partners," he said as he stood on stage just a metre away from Canadian Foreign Minister Chrystia Freeland and Mexican Economy Secretary Ildefonso Guajardo. "Countries are reluctant to give up unfair advantage."

In a subsequent news conference, he unloaded on American companies worried about his plan to scrap NAFTA provisions meant to protect cross-border investors.

"Why is it a good policy for the United States government to encourage investment in Mexico?" Mr. Lighthizer said. "Buy your own political risk insurance."

The talks are deadlocked, with a vast gulf separating the Trump administration from Canada, Mexico and the U.S. business community.

And at the centre is Mr. Lighthizer who, more than anyone other than the President himself, will decide if one of the world's most lucrative free-trade zones lives or dies.

Canadian officials who have dealt with him over the past two months describe a man every bit as tough behind the scenes as he has been in public. In negotiations, Mr. Lighthizer's team has made clear that he expects Canada and Mexico to make all the concessions, while the United States will not give anything up, said sources with knowledge of the talks.

But, despite his flinty approach to negotiations, the people, who on condition of anonymity agreed to discuss confidential closed-door meetings, say he is genial and funny even as he takes a hard line at the bargaining table. They also express a certain begrudging admiration for his intense focus and wonk-like command of detail on trade policy.

And while he and Ms. Freeland have sparred in public, the sources say the two have built a good working relationship in private.

They shared a one-on-one dinner in early August in Washington ahead of the start of talks, said one source.

They have also dined, along with members of their staffs, with Mexican counterpart Mr. Guajardo at every negotiating round. The trio has even started an informal book club, swapping tomes on Winston Churchill, the American Civil War and the unravelling of the international order before the First World War.

Sure of his convictions, with a mischievous side

This picture of Mr. Lighthizer certainly matches his reputation around Washington, where friends, former colleagues and adversaries describe him as a tough negotiator sure of his convictions, but with a mischievous side and a penchant for cracking dirty jokes.

In one oft-recounted anecdote from his steel negotiations with Japan during the Reagan years, Mr. Lighthizer expressed disapproval with one of the other side's proposals by folding the document into a paper airplane and throwing it at a Japanese negotiator. He also has a healthy self-regard. People who have visited his home over the years recall being greeted by an oil painting of their host hanging in a place of prominence.

And those who have crossed paths with him - both as colleagues and opponents - say Mr. Lighthizer evinces a black-andwhite view of trading relations. To him, other countries are the United States' adversaries. And while he is pragmatic enough to make deals, they say, this is purely transactional - he will never back down because he is convinced of the other side's correctness. He faced down the dominant orthodoxy of the Washington trade establishment with the zeal of a true believer; he is not about to roll over because another country tells him he's wrong.

"His view of trade, he's had his whole adult life. Most of the time, he was a voice in the wilderness among the free traders," his older brother, James Lighthizer, says in an interview. "But he's always steadfastly, if not stubbornly, stuck to what I would call 'fair trade.' " Now, near the end of his career, Robert Lighthizer finds himself in an improbable situation: A Republican won the presidency by running on the same principles Mr. Lighthizer has long fought for, and he suddenly has the chance to reshape American trade policy.

"He's highly nationalistic. He's well-matched with the President.

They're kindred spirits," says Charles Blum, a former diplomat who worked with Mr. Lighthizer in the Reagan administration. "He tells people he has a mandate to turn trade upside-down."

Mr. Lighthizer also finds himself in a crucible. People with knowledge of the negotiations say he appears to sincerely want a deal - as evidenced by his decision last week to scrap an end-of-year deadline and give negotiators until late March to keep talking - but it is far from clear he can reach one. A new pact would have to be agreed to by Canada and Mexico, but still be sufficiently tough to pass muster with Mr. Trump.

"Lighthizer's in a two-way negotiation," says William Krist, a former trade negotiator. "He's got to get something he can take back to Trump and say 'You can take this to your base.' " By the time NAFTA talks are through, Mr. Lighthizer could succeed in changing the course of international commerce for the world's wealthiest country. Or, he could be the man who blew up the United States' most important trade deal.

Born Oct. 11, 1947, the younger son of physician Orville James Lighthizer and Michaelene (Micki) Bogan, a stay-at-home mother, Robert Emmet Lighthizer grew up at 3830 Edgewater Dr., a red brick and white clapboard house across the street from Lake Erie in the industrial town of Ashtabula, Ohio.

His brother, Jim, remembers theirs as a "typical Midwestern upbringing" in postwar America: They built tree forts, fished, swam and played at being Daniel Boone.

Bob was strong-willed from the start, frequently barking orders at the other children.

One boyhood friend, David Lucas, told the local newspaper of a time he and the Lighthizers were flying paper airplanes from the roof of a garage. Bob, he said, persuaded him to jump down to retrieve the planes, spraining his ankle in the process. "He was known to be a good communicator even then," the Star Beacon quoted him as saying.

In his teens, Mr. Lighthizer attended preparatory school in suburban Cleveland, took out a GQ subscription and became fastidious about his appearance. Both Lighthizer brothers ultimately decamped Ohio for Washington and took law degrees at Georgetown University.

One of Mr. Lighthizer's defining characteristics - both as a kid in Ashtabula and later in university - was his refusal to concede an argument.

"We were two boys, so we fought all the time," Jim says. "He was always a very good debater, could carry an argument, but he didn't back down from his position. He's pretty aggressive and he's tough.

He is fearless. So if anybody thinks they can push over and intimidate him, they're just crazy as hell."

While Jim pursued a political career in Maryland, culminating with a stint as the state's secretary of transportation, Bob first worked in private practice at Covington & Burling LLP before landing a job on Capitol Hill as an aide to Bob Dole in 1978.

As chair of the powerful Senate finance committee at the time, Mr. Dole played a leading role steering

Ronald Reagan's first tax-cut package through Congress in 1981. Mr. Lighthizer caught the White House's attention.

In 1983, Mr. Reagan tapped Mr. Lighthizer as deputy United States trade representative. On one of his early assignments, former colleagues recalled, he used a hardball style to land a deal to export more U.S. grain to the Soviet Union: After several rounds of talks, he calculated what it was costing the Treasury to send his delegation to Moscow and told the Soviets he would not be wasting so much money on another session without an agreement. It worked.

His central achievement was on steel. The United States blamed a flood of imports for hurting the domestic industry, and Mr. Reagan faced pressure from the Democrats in an election year to clamp down.

So, the president dispatched Mr. Lighthizer to cut deals with steelproducing countries: Washington would not impose tariffs if other countries would agree to strict quotas on the amount of steel they exported to the United States.

Colleagues remember the psychological techniques he used - both on his negotiating partners and his own staff.

Mr. Lighthizer, for instance, told his subordinates that the target quotas for steel were half what they really were, in order to ensure his negotiating team took a suitably hard line in talks, recalls Mr.

Krist, who worked with him at the time.

"He's a very good negotiator, he's a good strategic thinker."

Mr. Blum, another former colleague, remembers how after Mr.

Reagan cruised to re-election in 1984, Mr. Lighthizer feared other countries would assume the administration had lost its resolve to drive a hard bargain now that it no longer faced any ballot-box pressure.

So Mr. Lighthizer arranged to have himself photographed personally briefing the president, leaning in close to one another over a narrow coffee table.

Then, he made sure the image ran in a steel industry trade publication - a subtle but unmistakeable signal that Mr. Reagan fully intended to keep pressing.

"At 9.30 a.m. the day the photo ran, the Japanese called up and said 'When can we come in and make a deal?' " Mr. Blum says. "It was a stark visual message to the world and it worked within a matter of hours."

Deal-making at an exhausting pace

Not all of Mr. Lighthizer's tactics were quite so effective. One person who witnessed his attempts at bargaining table humour - including his paper airplane stunt with Japan - recalls that those on the other side were generally unimpressed.

"That didn't help. I think he was trying to be funny, but it was offensive to the Japanese," says the source, who added that Mr. Lighthizer's subordinates often had to smooth things over with their negotiating partners after he left the room.

"He doesn't make deals because he sees merit in the other guy's position. He never felt they were legitimate. He was contemptuous of the Japanese. Bob was really contemptuous of them. He was inflexible and demanding."

Still, Mr. Lighthizer managed to land deals with eight countries, including heavyweights Japan and South Korea, to restrict steel exports. It was deal-making at an exhausting pace: In the sevenmonth process, Mr. Blum recalls, Mr. Lighthizer's team took just two days off.

With these victories under his belt, Mr. Lighthizer left the government in 1985 for private practice at Skadden, Arps, Slate, Meagher & Flom. His top client was United States Steel Corp. and he effectively did for them what he had done for Mr. Reagan: Fighting foreign imports.

He brought a string of trade cases accusing other countries of unfairly subsidizing their industries and persuaded the U.S. government to slap tariffs on them.

In 1992 alone, Mr. Lighthizer and another lawyer filed cases against no fewer than 47 companies in 21 countries as some of the previous deals he had negotiated in the Reagan administration expired. The fight was so huge that he joked about all the work he had created for other lobbyists battling him: "This is a fat pig, and they all want a slice of it," he told The New York Times then.

Lewis Leibowitz, an auto industry lawyer who often crossed swords with Mr. Lighthizer in those days, says his erstwhile courtroom opponent had no trouble portraying other countries as bad guys.

"Instead of being negotiating partners, these countries were the enemy. He never hesitated to paint his adversaries as people who needed to be stopped. He used some harsh language," he says.

In private, however, he recalls Mr. Lighthizer as unfailingly cordial: "When the spotlight was turned off, he was always candid and friendly."

Not that Mr. Lighthizer's nationalism precluded him from helping other countries' interests. He represented Brazil's Sugar and Alcohol Institute in an ethanol dispute and China's Chamber of Commerce for Machinery and Electronics in a case involving the manufacture of fans. Mr. Lighthizer's work for Brazil would later be used by the Democrats to delay his confirmation as U.S. trade representative to extract concessions from the Republicans on unrelated legislation.

Mr. Lighthizer remained loyal to Mr. Dole, serving as policy adviser and treasurer of his 1996 presidential campaign, during which the media touted him as a possible future White House chief of staff.

And he cultivated the figure of a lone prophet for protectionism even as the world, and his own political party, moved determinately in the opposite direction.

In 2008, Mr. Lighthizer took aim at GOP presidential nominee John McCain in a New York Times oped, criticizing the Arizona senator's support for free trade. In 2011, when Mr. Trump mused about making a presidential run - and saw himself attacked by fellow Republicans as a dangerous protectionist - Mr. Lighthizer defended him in The Washington Times. On both occasions, he argued that economic nationalism was fully compatible with conservatism, from Alexander Hamilton to Abraham Lincoln to Ronald Reagan. If the Gipper had supported limiting foreign steel imports, didn't that make protectionism consistent with GOP orthodoxy?

Not that Mr. Lighthizer characterized such views as protectionism.

Rather, he presented them as "pragmatism" that understood "the realities of everyday life."

"Modern free traders, on the other hand, embrace their ideal with a passion that makes Robespierre seem prudent," he wrote in the 2008 op-ed. "They embrace unbridled free trade, even as it helps China become a superpower."

After Mr. Trump won last year, one of his economic advisers, former steel executive Dan DiMicco, brought Mr. Lighthizer on to the transition team. Mr. DiMicco knew Mr. Lighthizer from their days fighting steel imports and saw in him someone who combined economic nationalism with the deep experience necessary to implement an agenda.

"Bob Lighthizer is a free trader.

The problem is, there is no such thing as free trade in the world. It's a nice phrase to use, kind of like 'world peace': We all strive for it, but we know that the reality is that the world is not at peace," he says. "There's no such thing as free trade, it's all managed trade, and we have done a lousy job of managing it."

Unlikely to compromise

One day last winter, Mr. Trump summoned Mr. Lighthizer to Mar-aLago, a 10-minute drive south of Mr. Lighthizer's Palm Beach condo.

Over the course of a 40-minute meeting, Mr. Trump never actually asked Mr. Lighthizer if he wanted to be his trade czar. The President simply assumed Mr. Lighthizer was in.

"He was clearly the guy: I mean, there's nobody else in the country who, because of his views and his experience, that's even close to him," Jim Lighthizer says of his brother.

It's certainly true that, within the world of Washington trade policy, Mr. Lighthizer and his fellow protectionists in the White House stand apart.

Dan Ikenson, a trade expert at the libertarian Cato Institute, contends Mr. Lighthizer's concept of the world is somewhere between impractical and entitled.

"Their view is: 'The U.S. is good and benevolent and we've done so much for people since the Second World War, the world owes us,' " he says. "It's like, 'All animals are equal but some are more equal than others.' " And Mr. Ikenson argues there is a stark difference between the Reagan era and today: Before the age of the World Trade Organization, which came into being in 1995, there was no recourse for handling trade cheating other than slapping duties on imports.

Now, however, there are ways to deal with disputes that don't involve risking a trade war. In Mr.

Ikenson's view, the U.S. economy survived "in spite of" the protectionist policies of the 1980s, not because of them.

As Trumpian economics have alienated capitalist purists, however, they have attracted allies in unusual quarters.

Leo Gerard, international president of the United Steelworkers, sings Mr. Lighthizer's praises when asked about working with him during the steel wars of years past.

"I've known him to be smart, strategic ... a fighter for industrial jobs," he says. "He wants to do the right thing here. He understands that if Canada and the United States can't do a deal that is good for workers in Canada, the United States and Mexico, the deal won't fly."

Outside work, Mr. Lighthizer's life revolves around reading - he prefers biographies and tomes on U.S. history - playing golf and exercising. He divides his time between homes in Washington and Palm Beach. He's close with his two grown children, Claire and Robert, three grandchildren and his brother. Mr. Lighthizer's wife, Cathy, died in 2014.

And Mr. Lighthizer has long been passionate about basketball, rooting for his alma mater's Georgetown Hoyas. During the steel negotiations of the 1980s, recalls one of his then subordinates, he was so loath to miss a game that he would often knock off for the evening to go watch while his team kept working.

Nearly everyone who knows Mr. Lighthizer cites his wisecracking - though few are willing to repeat an example of a specific joke. "Most of them, you couldn't print in a family newspaper," his brother says. "They are, shall we say, bawdy."

A sanitized version of Mr. Lighthizer's quipster persona has shown up for his sessions with journalists during NAFTA talks. At the third round in Ottawa, when a reporter asked about "red lines" in negotiations, he replied that the only such line he cared about was the subway route that connects suburban Maryland to downtown D.C.: "Red lines to me are what runs to Rockville from Farragut Square." During the fourth round in Washington, describing what would happen if he concluded a trade agreement Mr. Trump was unhappy with, Mr. Lighthizer said it would be "a quicker way to lose your job than chartering an airplane" - a pointed reference to former health secretary Tom Price, who had to resign after he was caught billing taxpayers for private flights.

So far, Mr. Lighthizer has lived up to his hardline reputation at the bargaining table. And if past is prologue, he is unlikely to compromise without extracting significant concessions from the other two countries.

Or, perhaps, shredding NAFTA altogether.

"He's got a strong personality and he's pretty intense and he's fearless," Jim Lighthizer says. "Getting him to back down takes a whole lot."

Associated Graphic

Foreign Affairs Minister Chrystia Freeland and U.S. Trade Representative Robert Lighthizer leave a news conference in Washington in August as NAFTA negotiations began. While the trade talks have been tough, the two are said to have built a good working relationship.


Mr. Lighthizer's hardball negotiating style made him prominent in the early 1980s, over grain exports to the Soviet Union.


As a trade lawyer, Mr. Lighthizer represented U.S. Steel (its Edgar Thomson Works in Braddock, Pa., is shown) to get punitive tariffs slapped on foreign imports. Leo Gerard, head of United Steelworkers, praises him: 'I've known him to be smart, strategic ... a fighter for industrial jobs.'



Breaking the ice
On a Canada 150 expedition tasked with celebrating 'the people and places of Canada's three coasts,' Ian Brown finds himself in the midst of a diverse group forced to confront questions of race and reconciliation both past and present. Over the course of eight days sailing along the coast of Baffin Island, tensions build and break as Indigenous and non-Indigenous Canadians alike face some of their country's uncomfortable truths
Saturday, October 28, 2017 – Print Edition, Page A12

The Polar Prince's generators hummed incessantly in the background like a Gregorian chant. Sometimes they harmonized with the ship's revving engines, as when the inch-and-ahalf thick steel plate of the light icebreaker's hull mounted a six-foot shelf of ice to break it and move forward, or stop and back up and mount it again for a second try. You could peer over the bow and watch the bright white ice 20 feet below slowly crack and then flood with blue water as the ship's bubblers breathed the floes out of its way. It was faintly unsettling, like watching the floor of the known world fall away.

The Polar Prince was threading the northeast coast of Baffin Island on its way from Toronto, last June, to Victoria at the end of this month, via the storied Northwest Passage - the so-called C3 (coast to coast to coast) expedition, a Canada 150 project largely paid for by a $6.8-million grant from the federal government. The Canadians invited on board - 400, divided over 15 legs of the 150-day voyage - were tasked with experiencing the way their country was handling youth engagement, the environment, diversity and reconciliation.

Reconciliation, as many Canadians now know thanks to the 2015 Truth and Reconciliation Commission, is the process of reviving trust between Canada and its Indigenous people after more than a century of cultural genocide - after separating 150,000 Indigenous children from their families to be reprogrammed in Christian residential schools, in some cases as recently as the 1990s. The official purpose of the C3 expedition was to "celebrate the people and places of Canada's three coasts." But from the start it was clear scores were going to be settled.

There was, for instance, the incident of the hockey sticks in Clyde River, a hamlet the ship visited on Leg 8, the eight-day stretch from Qikiqtarjuaq to Pond Inlet. The local radio station sent word the ship was in town, and within half an hour, locals had packed Clyde River's communityhall gymnasium. Scott McDougall, one of the expedition's leaders, congratulated the town on winning a recent Supreme Court decision that banned local underwater seismic testing for oil and gas. Heather Moyse, the PEI-born two-time Olympic gold medalist (bobsled), Leg 8's biggest celebrity, let everyone touch her medals, and said "I have been very, very lucky to represent Canada - and that means representing you - in two Olympic Games ... I just want you to know you can come from a very small place and do very big things."

Then the ship's organizers handed out a gross of ball-hockey sticks, whereupon the most ferociously competitive game of shinny I ever saw broke out in the gym. The closest comparison is the Battle of Agincourt.

The hockey sticks were meant as a gift from Canada, from the South, a gesture of reconciliation. One recreation director in town was worried about the mischief they might cause - mischief being the main misdemeanour in Clyde River - but the kids seemed to want them.

But that night, back on the ship, factions started to form. Madeleine Thien, a Giller Prize-winning novelist who lives in Montreal, found the ceremony to be evidence of continuing cultural authoritarianism. Ewan Affleck, the chief medical information officer of the Northwest Territories, compared the gesture to "the Victorians travelling to Africa to visit the pygmies." Several people found Heather Moyse's statement that she represented Canada to be evidence of white privilege, which led Ms. Moyse to say she was being accused of racism. "Can't we just celebrate the hockey sticks?" she asked. Tolu Ilelaboye, a Winnipeg community-development officer of Yoruba heritage, replied, "Yeah, but what's the intention? Like the colonialists giving them blankets, which gave them smallpox?" By the next afternoon on the ship, Heather Moyse had reportedly been in tears; several other Southerners had taken an unofficial vow of listening silence.

This is the challenge of reconciliation - to make the white, non-Indigenous citizens of Canada face the fact of their country's past and its continuing racism. Reconciliation works in theory, but how does it work in practice? How do you make the perpetrators of the cultural genocide, and their descendants, empathize with the victims? How do you do that without making those descendants resent being blamed for a crime they feel they did not personally commit? Or does that even matter? Can reconciliation address other breeds of racism while it rights the injustices suffered by the Inuit? (And does the fact that this story, like so many others, was written by an older, white, privileged male skew the narrative or make it suspect?) How do you convince someone they have wronged you, and then ask them to make room for you, without making them want to walk away, because you still need them?

Those are only a handful of the questions 30 people on an icebreaker in the Arctic were forced to confront for eight days in August. In a small way, it was a historic Northern voyage - not to claim new lands, but to see if a new way of talking was possible in a world where so many of us ascribe histories and motives and character to others based on what they look like and where they are from.

Baffin Island's eastern coast was first mapped in 1616 by William Baffin and Robert Bylot, back when the self-serving Doctrine of Discovery let explorers claim what they found. But the Canadian government didn't get around to sending Joseph-Elzéar Bernier to the Eastern Arctic to establish police outposts and collect whaling licence fees as "proof" of Canada's Northern sovereignty until the early 1900s. By 1932, there were still only 16 permanent Northern settlements.

Today, slightly more than 100,000 people (more than half of them Indigenous) hold down the northern fort across a third of Canada's land mass. The need to protect Canada's shaky sovereignty convinced the Canadian government to transplant entire communities to remote outposts such as Grise Fiord in 1953 (its Inuit name is Aujuittuq, which means "place that never thaws"), where they no longer knew how to live off the land. When Jeannie Toomasie, one of four Inuit guests on Leg 8, arrived in her new community, "RCMPs" (as Jeannie calls them) shot their sled dogs to deter them from heading back.

The Toomasies lived in a tent well into winter, famished, before their new wooden home was ready.

At the outset of Leg 8, to welcome everyone to Nunavut, Jeannie lit a ceremonial qulliq, one of the oil lamps the Inuit have used to warm their homes for thousands of years. She was trying to ignite Arctic cottongrass with a butane barbecue wand. Still, Jeannie said, poking at the fledgling flame of the ancient lamp, "I'm pretty sure I wouldn't be here if my ancestors hadn't used one of these."

When the Polar Prince could make it through the ice, we went ashore. Excursions were the antidote to the tension on board. A polar-bear patrol, three people with 12-gauge shotguns, went first.

From the ship, the land looked grey and brown and rocky; it grew more colourful and complex - more green and orange and peaty and wet and plant-laden - the closer you got.

Early explorers often seem to have exaggerated what they saw in the Arctic. Then you get up there and understand. The evening summer sun - it is still in the sky more than 20 hours a day, even by mid-August - turns the ferric cliffs to molten ore. Barry Lopez, the author of Arctic Dreams, went north and started bowing to horned larks and caribou. Everything seems like a miracle.

One morning, Aluki Kotierk, another Inuit guest on the ship, delivered what she referred to as "a bit of a rant." Several passengers from the South - settlers, the Inuit call us - had openly admired the Inuit ability to survive the harsh Arctic. They meant it as a compliment.

But looking out toward the sea through a stone tunnel that 1,000 years ago was the entrance way to a Thule home, Ms. Kotierk said, "You go in a tent, and you open the tent in the morning, and" - she opened her arms to the view - "beautiful.

How is that struggling to survive? That's already a judgment on Arctic people. Inuit had a good life.

They had food and water. And even the intricate combs they made, from ivory - if you were struggling to survive, would you make such a beautiful thing?" But, she went on to add, "people need to have that narrative. Because it justifies the settlers' decision to come and 'save' us. It can't be that the colonizers arrived in a land that was thriving."

To feel the grace and freedom of the pre-European life of the Inuit is to recall one of mankind's most recurrent hopes: that, as Lopez describes it, "it is possible to live wisely on the land, and to live well." The Inuit figured out how to do that.

The rest of Canada denied that life for more than a century, with crippling consequences. It's the life we, too, have forgotten as the world burns, floods and boils around us. If you can't feel devastated for the Inuit, feel devastated for the crippled planet. That grief is a form of reconciliation too.

As the (elected) president of Nunavut Tunngavik Inc., the body that oversees compliance with the Nunavut Agreement, Ms. Kotierk is the official steward of Nunavut's land claims and traditional culture. Ninety per cent of Nunavut speaks Inuktitut, but 70 per cent of its teachers can converse only in English - her evidence that assimilation is still being practised. Inuit make up 85 per cent of the population and so are entitled by law to 85 per cent of Nunavut's jobs, but hold only half the territorial positions and a third of the federal ones. That, Ms. Kotierk believes, limits the autonomy and self-regard of her people.

"I want my children to come from a place they can be proud of, too," she told me one day after lunch. "I think reconciliation means different things to different people. Often, it means reconciling white people and Inuit. And yet we Inuit are expected to get over it. And we're expected to know what role we have in society, and we sometimes haven't learned that role. I always see violent outbursts in our communities as a symptom of that." She wants being Inuit to mean something more than suicides and social problems. "I am an Inuk, and I speak Spanish," she pointed out. "I am an Inuk and I like my muktuk [raw blubber] with wild nori and sushi rice. There are many ways for us to be modern."

I walked out onto the hind deck of the ship and found David Gray, the ship's historian/biologist, quietly crying. "I'm just watching the ice," he sniffed. He has travelled in the Arctic every year for 50 years.

"Do you feel guilty about the way Canada's treated the Inuit?" I asked.

"I don't feel guilty; I feel sad," he said. "A little embarrassed, kind of? I think for the High Arctic relocations ... the people who organized that and did it, they had no idea what they were doing."

They were bureaucrats enacting what the Truth and Reconciliation Commission calls "failed notions of assimilation." David Gray sniffed again.

"They were not being malicious. But they were not being honest, either."

On our day in Clyde River, we started at the local wellness centre and played inugaq, a game in which you have to loop a bunch of seal flipper bones out of a sack and build a picture of a family - a house, a dog, a sled, a mother and a father and some kids. The prize for winning was a pack of supplies - toilet paper, a juice box, an apple, a bagel, a banana, some yogurt, some instant oatmeal. A lot of the hamlet was like that: practical, makeshift.

Eventually, a group from the Polar Prince wandered up to the hamlet office and started talking to the first person we saw - the town's director of finance, Johnathan Palluq. He had a chin braid in his beard and was about to run for election as an MLA in Nunavut. Like a lot of people we met, he had been sent to Toronto as a child to be treated for tuberculosis, and then directly to residential school in Moose Factory, Ont., more than 2,200 kilometres away. When he finally returned to his family three years later, Clyde River had none of the comforts he had grown used to in the South - no TV, no apples, no bananas -and he spoke English and Cree instead of Inuktitut, his mother tongue. "I was very British when I came back," he said with a laugh.

"Was that your decision?" I asked.

"Nothing was my decision," he replied.

He didn't say it angrily, just as a matter of fact.

After the hockey-stick fracas, political divisions on the ship sharpened. People stayed up late, arguing. One faction wanted the expedition's organizers to admit they were supporting the status quo and perpetuating the paternalistic attitudes of the North's colonizers. The other side felt that the charge of colonialism was unfair on such a short visit and that, as one member put it, "the best approach to these problems is non-ideological."

The tension came to a head in the Gord Downie-Chanie Wenjack Legacy Room, a stateroom reserved primarily for conversations about reconciliation.

There were 20 people crammed into the room between the ceremonial drum box, packets of sweetgrass, a pair of tea dolls and other objects of Indigenous life. Madeleine Thien was conducting a writing workshop.

Ms. Thien's voice was whisper-quiet, but she held the room rapt. She asked everyone to define a word - "possession" was one of them - and then write a story about that word.

It was when people went around the room to share that the mood doubled down. Will Amos, the MP (Liberal) for Pontiac, near Ottawa, was interested in the cost of the trip. Dr. Affleck wanted to express his anger that politicians spend hundreds of millions of dollars in the North on showy hospitals that aren't needed instead of on, say, community diabetes clinics and midwives that are. He felt that, too, was a matter for reconciliation.

Then it was Ms. Kotierk's turn. "There have been moments," she said, "when I feel like I am a token here. And it's no different from when I went to high school in Ottawa." At the same time, she went on, "every time I wake up and get up, it's an act of resistance. Because I am the face of resisting colonialism." Then she said, "I think I would write about the exhaustion of having to prove that Inuit lives matter. The exhaustion of telling my children that a white person would not be surprised if they committed suicide. Meaning that they expect that of us."

By then, she was crying. Mr. Amos, the politician, later wondered if her tears were a rhetorical flourish, but they seemed heartfelt to me. "I just don't know why in this Legacy Room there is no box of Kleenex," Ms. Kotierk said, and people laughed. "Or why Gord Downie's name is bigger than Chanie Wenjack's," pointing to the plaque on the wall.

Robert Comeau, an Inuk in his 20s studying law in Iqaluit, one of the trip's "youth representatives," crawled over the packed-in people and sat on the floor next to Ms. Kotierk's chair and put his head in her lap. "There's only so much you can take us for granted," he murmured.

Heather Moyse, the bobsledder, got up and left the room.

Angel Chen, a young Vancouverite doing her MA in biology, started crying then: She felt pressured to blog by the organizers of the expedition when she preferred to listen. She was crying hard enough that she couldn't speak.

Suddenly, the door of the Legacy Room popped open and Sue Finlay, one of the expedition's organizers, a blond, friendly white women in her 40s, stepped into the room and said it was time to wrap the session up. She seemed nervous, as if she wanted to sweep the room's awkwardness away. Then she walked over to Ms. Chen and said "Angel, we talked about this."

"Jesus Christ!" someone said.

Ms. Thien intervened, and explained to Ms. Finlay that the group was in mid-catharsis. Ms. Finlay apologized and retreated. Some of the group later described her interruption as an act of authoritarian oppression. Others thought she was genuinely trying to help.

Elaine Chin, a young Asian woman who worked on the hospitality team, was the last person to speak. "A lot of time all I want to do is fit in," she said. She, too, was crying. Ms. Thien touched her arm. No one knew what else to do, except sit, and wait, and wait some more. It was awkward. Awkwardness, of course, is a stage of reconciliation.

Finally, Boris Worm, a biologist from Dalhousie University whose father had served in the German army during the Second World War, said, "Why don't we share just a couple of minutes of silence?" Silence, listening and ceremony are three forms of reconciliation recommended in the Truth and Reconciliation Report. Then one of the crew poked his head into the room and said "Lunch is ready. It's pizza."

And there matters stayed, at a stand-off. Heather Moyse stopped telling people she represented Canada, although she still got upset when someone implied she was racist because she was white - "I don't have a racist bone in my body," she said.

The Inuit and people of colour on board held their own closed-door meeting in the Legacy Room. It was as complicated as high school, but with more serious stakes.

After dinner on the last night of the voyage, Ms. Ilelaboye - who wanted to come on the expedition "because I wanted the black community to be better connected to the Indigenous community in Winnipeg" - read the manifesto the Inuit and the people of colour had prepared in the private meeting, a list of instructions for white Canada.

It was a pretty interesting list. "It's really, really important that we embrace discomfort," Ms. Ilelaboye read. "It's not okay to walk away." It was important "to recognize that your experience is only your own ... it's important to check in with the community to make sure that your goals and aspirations for a community actually are what those communities represent." She paused briefly. "Currently, in Canada, we have a single system, and that does not represent people of colour in this country." Then she urged everyone to "dispel the myths of this country," and tucked her list away. If I remember correctly, there was applause.

Here is one last thing to consider: Aluki Kotierk was afraid she had upset people by being too outspoken. Why? "I could tell people were uncomfortable and in pain," she said. "And I didn't know why people were uncomfortable, and it made me sad. So I questioned whether I should have said anything."

"It's hard dealing with the fragility of settlers, of white people, when they hear the truth of the country and the challenges people of colour face every day," said the young lawyer-in-training, Robert Comeau, who was sitting near Ms. Kotierk on the plane back to Iqaluit. "Once you're talking about white guilt and white privilege, people tend to walk out of the room."

Maybe this is a trick, at least for the non-Indigenous: You have to feel the pain of the victims, feel the collective shame of their oppression, without feeling personally guilty for the sins of the past.

(The present is another matter.) "This isn't about you," Ms. Kotierk added. "It's about our people."

White shame, guilt and resentment get in the way of paying attention. But without pangs of collective shame, there will be no shocked and awkward silence, and therefore no listening, no empathy, no recognition and no progress. "I think there's been enough discomfort that there's been some growth," Ms. Kotierk added, finally. "And that's all we can expect."

There are consequences to being heard. "Am I okay with what I said? Yes. Why feel bad? Because others' feelings were hurt. Am I responsible? No. People are responsible for their own feelings. So I'll keep talking." Then she sat back and looked out the window at the land below. Whatever you think of the odds of reconciliation, the Inuit are still around, after everything we did to them. So far, they are still waiting.

Associated Graphic

A group of guests on the Polar Prince gather in the ship's Gord DownieChanie Wenjack Legacy Room, a space reserved primarily for discussions about reconciliation.


Tuesday, November 21, 2017


An Oct. 28 news feature on reconciliation in the far north mischaracterized a remark by Dr. Ewan Affleck. The article stated that Dr. Affleck was concerned that politicians spend hundreds of millions of dollars in the North on showy hospitals that aren't needed instead of on, say, community diabetes clinics and midwives that are. In fact, his concern was that the money was not directed at the social determinants of health and merely supported the status quo.

Radio silence
How a high-school-based broadcast outlet gave the outport town of Wabana a bingo jackpot and a source of hope and joy for the community's youth, before infighting pulled it all apart. Jessica Leeder travels to Bell Island to investigate
Saturday, November 18, 2017 – Print Edition, Page A12

It was not so long ago on Bell Island that the radio antenna that juts from the roof of the high school here, built atop the land's highest point, was a beacon to the community. It symbolized a newly optimistic orientation in this worn mining town, a shift toward pride of place and the thrill of citizen engagement.

For more than four years, the volunteer-run Radio Bell Island transmitted local voices, old and young, across the island and beyond.

"The radio has become a very bright spot in our community. Or I should say it had become a very bright spot in our community," Terasita McCarthy, a lifelong resident, volunteer and community organizer, said last week. "It is dark days now at the radio station."

Indeed, that eyesore of an antenna has come to symbolize deep divisions on Bell Island.

For several years, the station gave air time to a diverse array of local hosts whose interests ranged from history to hockey and whose ages spanned generations. Inside the St. Michael's Regional High School, which houses the station in the cafeteria, principal Tonya Kearley was amazed to see attendance, grades and even graduation rates rise in step with students' radio involvement. Some wrote their own music, and recorded and broadcast it.

They read news, weather and often stayed late into the evening, learning how to use the equipment, eating pizza and carving out their own space in this aging rural community.

Townspeople, too, had their spirits galvanized. Radio Bell Island seemed to give the community, long beleaguered by its deadened economy, not just a voice but a hungered-for cachet. The radio was something that everyone could take pride in. And the weekly bingo was a good bit of old-time fun - at its peak, more than half of the island was gathering around kitchen tables every Sunday night, daubing $5 cards they bought at local stores and hoping for the jackpot.

It helped that some of the proceeds went to the school, which was allotted one-third of the bingo profits under the station's original lottery licence. At one point, the school's cut of the cash surpassed $120,000 and paid for a slew of extras and upgrades. "It was a total game-changer for us," said Ms. Kearley.

But the game has ground to a halt. Radio Bell Island is now shuttered to students. Their voices have disappeared from the airwaves.

The school's regular cut of radio bingo proceeds has disappeared, too. Access was denied after infighting among radio board members reached a fever pitch, right around the same time the bingo's popularity was exploding.

The conflict has pitted Ms. Kearley, the principal, against radio board treasurer Henry Crane, a man who says he will "die fighting" to improve the island and has earned respect for his efforts to boost tourism. The conflict has polarized people on the island and off, including some as far away as Cambridge, Ont., where many islanders moved years ago in search of jobs.

Mr. Crane is determined to move the radio station out of the school. This week, town council, which includes both Mr. Crane and the chair of the radio board, agreed by narrow margin to postpone, temporarily, a vote to move the station to the town hall. The decision, council agreed, would be best made at a later date.

That a move might happen at all is baffling to many in the community. When the station was launched, not only were youth meant to be included, the school's elevation made it the perfect spot for a broadcast antenna.

The most likely explanation for pulling the station out of the school was raised earlier this year by a mediator hired to defuse the conflict.

"Bingo means money and money is a source of power," he wrote in his report. "This conflict is ... about money and power."

With so much at stake, from the future of Radio Bell Island to peace in their community, residents are calling for oversight and help.

"We need to shine a light on what is happening so that people in power will see," said Ms. McCarthy, who held a town council seat when it voted to hire the mediator. "People are shaking their heads and saying 'What in the name of God is going on?' We need to do something about this."

"Beyond our wildest expectations" The ferry ride across the tickle from Portugal Cove to Bell Island is full of visual drama. Bell Island, which is in Conception Bay, is a gorgeous slab of sandstone and shale and soaring, take-your-breath-away cliffs.

When Joe Donkers first set eyes on it, he knew Bell Island was home. "The place is magic. It was totally captivating," the Ontario transplant said. Although his passion is community development, Mr. Donkers took a job as the tax collector for the Town of Wabana, the largest of three communities on the island. It gave him a direct window into the economic and social struggles hobbling his new community.

Statistics confirmed what Mr. Donkers saw: A huge number of people were reliant on social assistance, and the lack of jobs on the island meant people were often forced to choose between unemployment or leaving home. A wellness report commissioned by the town in 2006 put the proportion at 44 per cent of island residents. It also highlighted an islandwide gambling problem, crumbling infrastructure, chronic boil-water advisories and a population at risk.

To locals, the report was just another black mark on their town. The darkest, of course, was the shutdown of the iron ore mines in 1966. That industry had transformed the island into a boom town with more than 13,000 residents at its peak. It also made the community unique - it is rare in Newfoundland for an outport town not to rely on fishing. When the mines closed, the population hollowed out as people left in search of jobs. More than half a century later, there is still no real industry on Bell Island, population 2,500, aside from tourism. Most jobs in tourism are fuelled by government grants.

Years ago, it fell to Mr. Donkers to build a sustainability plan for the town. He helped launch Tourism Bell Island, which was assumed by a local man passionate about the community's future. His name was Henry Crane.

Mr. Donkers also saw the need for more community dialogue. The idea of a community radio station was floated. It took off. The original group of volunteers included Mr. Crane, Ms. Kearley and her husband, renowned fiddler and Order of Canada recipient Kelly Russell.

Students, too, were eager to help.

Radio Bell Island went live in January, 2013. It was an immediate hit. "It was beyond our wildest expectations. There was a real polish to it," Mr. Donkers recalled. "For a period there, the community saw something new in itself."

Mr. Crane remembers the time as electric. "We had people in high school all the way up to our most senior citizens," he said. "It was so exciting."

Donovan Taplin, a former student at St. Michael's who is now a Master's candidate at Ryerson University, was the first voice on air.

He would go on to land a number of high-profile interviews, including one memorable spot with retired CBC broadcaster Peter Mansbridge.

"We transformed a school cafeteria into a place where intergenerational dialogue could happen. It filled a gap in the community," he said. "That had not existed before."

Mr. Taplin is now a member of the Prime Minister's Youth Council and a candidate for a Rhodes Scholarship. Having access to Radio Bell Island, he said, changed the course of his life.

"There's a saying that you can't be what you can't see. And on Bell Island, you can't see beyond the cliffs sometimes," he said. "Radio Bell Island gave young people from a small town in rural Newfoundland the opportunity to get on the air and play an instrument and have someone across the country hear it.

"That was transformative."

School became the place to be Inside the school, Ms. Kearley, the principal, could just about measure how much.

Attendance, marks and graduation rates were starting to climb along with spirits inside of the school, which has less than 150 students, many of whom come from proud but disadvantaged homes. Finding extra money for field trips off the island - to the university in St.

John's, for example - was often out of the question. The same went for new prom dresses, internet access, computers at home and sometimes even food.

"It's not a ghetto, not geographically. But it's socioeconomically inner-city," Ms. Kearley said. "Lots of children here have plenty in their lives. But they don't have the means that would allow them to participate fully," she said, adding: "Education should not cost a cent."

Once Radio Bell bingo took off, it didn't.

Launched to raise money for the station, the weekly games were held on Sunday evenings and run, at first, by Mr. Russell, the station manager, and Ms. Kearley. The work of getting bingo cards printed and distributed for sale was shared by Mr. Crane and his team of volunteers at Tourism Bell Island.

An agreement was struck that proceeds from the games would be split three ways, between Radio Bell Island, Tourism Bell Island and the high school, reflecting the causes closest to the stakeholders on the board.

The spoils quickly began to add up. Over one 22-month period, St. Michael's found itself with $122,000 in bingo money. It was as if the school had won the lottery.

The cash enabled Ms. Kearley to narrow gaps that neither the school board nor parents had the ability to. She improved students' access to technology by buying iPads and Smart Boards for the school. There were new uniforms for sports and the cheer squad, which had been using the same gear since the 1980s. She added band equipment, a motorized screen in the gym and built up a stock of personal items she knew many students were grateful for. Drawers in the school office were filled with deodorant, new clothing and even feminine products for female students, which they were free to take home.

The school was literally brightened, repainted in bright shades of blue that students chose.

Second-hand couches were purchased to give students comfortable lounging space in the library. Field trips to the university or the theatre were finally free for any student who wanted to go.

Ms. Kearley said she saw herself as "filling the school up with stuff students didn't have in their lives. We made it a place they need to come to."

Before long, though, a bizarre battle for control of the radio station would jeopardize students' access to their most prized asset.

It felt like "a coup" Despite the community's support of Radio Bell Island, only a small group of people volunteered their time to run it. Some years, the radio board, including Ms. Kearley and Mr. Crane, had its membership acclaimed because of the lack of community interest in holding the positions.

It was a surprise to many, then, when several hundred townspeople packed the radio board meeting in September of 2016. Ms. Kearley, who was serving a two-year term, watched in amazement as a slate of new members was elected. Mr. Crane knew all of them. Many already sat on or volunteered with his tourism board. Mr. Russell, the station manager, said it felt like "a coup." Mr. Crane denies that he attempted to stack the radio board with allies.

But there is no dispute over the fact that in the lead-up to the meeting, he had spent months locking horns with Ms. Kearley and Mr. Russell behind closed doors.

Mr. Crane, who has made clear his intention to have a hand in shaping Bell Island's future, likes to repeat a saying inspired by the Second World War general George S. Patton: "Lead, follow, or get out of the way." At Tourism Bell Island, that approach often inspired people.

On the radio board, it only led to acrimony.

Disagreements amongst the strong personalities often spilled onto social-media feeds, spreading a sourness throughout the town.

Relations deteriorated to the point that the board was unable to reach consensus on any decision, big or small. Tension mounted between Ms. Kearley and Mr. Crane, who wanted move the radio station out of the school. His reasons include easier access for community members.

After the new radio board was elected, Mr. Russell, the station manager, resigned.

"I knew what was happening," he said in a recent interview. "I would have been told what to do, to be compliant as they decided to cut out the school. It was going against all I had worked towards, which was building an asset for the school and the community."

One month into their term, the new board members held a meeting that Ms. Kearley was not invited to. She was accused of disrespecting other members and a vote to suspend her from the board "for conduct unbecoming of a board member" was carried even though the radio's constitution does not appear to contain mechanism to allow it.

Around the same time, the school stopped receiving its share of radio bingo proceeds.

There was no written notice. Payments to the school simply halted. The school eventually received a letter from the radio board saying its status had dropped from that of a stakeholder: If the school wanted any more bingo money it could send a letter of application for the board for consideration.

Meanwhile, at the school district offices, a flood of complaints against Ms. Kearley, including allegations that she was unfit to continue serving as principal, had begun.

Mr. Crane, a retired parole officer and former college instructor, said he did not organize the flood of complaints. He did admit to making one against Ms. Kearley to the provincial Department of Education, though. It was related to a Facebook picture that shows the principal sticking her tongue out while laughing with three friends on an evening out. Mr. Crane said he found the picture "appalling."

Ms. Kearley's school district decided her conduct was just fine. An investigation into all of the complaints cleared her name. It also flagged the concern that she was being harassed via "an organized attack on [her] professional reputation," wrote Andrew Hickey, a senior education officer with the Newfoundland and Labrador English School District.

Ms. Kearley took her concerns to the local RCMP detachment but says she was brushed off. At least two more women on Bell Island have said they spoke to RCMP about harassment concerns related to radio board members' conduct to no avail. The RCMP did not respond to The Globe and Mail's request for comment.

Mr. Crane scoffs at the allegations. "I've been called a Nazi, a socialist, a sexist, you name it.

Well, yeah, yeah, yeah, sticks and stones," he said in an interview.

In February, the provincial department responsible for lottery licences audited the radio bingo payouts. It told the board to pay the school, which was listed as a fundraising recipient on the bingo licence, the money that had been withheld.

The board paid up and then found a way to deke around having to pay more. When the radio's bingo licence came up for renewal in May, St. Michael's was not named as an intended recipient of bingo proceeds. The board could decide where the money went in the community and was no longer compelled to pay anything to the school.

"A horrendous number of concerns" Desperate for a solution that might pull the community out of turmoil, the Town of Wabana hired a mediator. His decision would have no binding authority on the radio board, but the hope was that the move would inspire compromise.

It did not work. The mediator, retired provincial court Justice Robert Smith, titled his report Another Failed Mediation.

"I wouldn't have taken it on if I had known what it was going to turn into," Mr. Smith said in an interview last week. "I've never seen anything like this. It left me with a horrendous number of concerns," he said.

Mr. Smith is so troubled that he has taken the unusual step of contacting the RCMP himself, in both Newfoundland and Ottawa, hoping to jump-start an investigation. His complaints pertain to things outside the scope of the disagreement that required mediation, but that he discovered accidentally, he says, over the course of his work. They include allegations of improper spending of taxpayer dollars by the tourism board, led by Mr. Crane.

"As I understand it, there is no independent audit looking for possible fraud," Mr. Smith wrote in his report obtained by The Globe, adding: "There should be!" He goes on to level more troubling allegations against Mr. Crane, including alleging he is the architect of the campaign to discredit Ms. Kearley. "It is disgraceful and shows a level of unethical behaviour that should not be tolerated by the Town of Wabana."

The mayor, Gary Gosine, does not disagree.

But since September, his council has included Mr. Crane and another member of Radio Bell Island's board who do not perceive themselves to have a conflict of interest in being involved with radio, council and the tourism board. Mr. Gosine said he has no idea what can be done and the stress is affecting his health.

"I think it's going to get worse before anything gets better," he said.

Among residents, there is widespread concern over the amount of influence a small group has come to wield in their town. There is no doubt that Mr. Crane has a clear vision of the way forward - remember: "Lead, follow, get out of the way" - but his approach has been inconsistent with building consensus and inclusion.

Instead, it has driven people away. Ms. Kearley and Mr. Russell moved their family off the island in October; Ms. Kearley commutes back from St. John's each day. Mr. Smith called the development tragic. "They have so much to offer the island. To drive them away? It's astonishing," he said. "How you can get manipulated out of your share and have the radio station taken over by an outside group ..." he said, trailing off. "It's mind-boggling."

Asked in an interview whether he is motivated by power, Mr. Crane laughed. "I don't want to be king of the volunteers," he said. "I believe this island is a gold mine. It's a gem. When I got involved, I got involved for one reason: to make it better for everybody else. That's the reason I do it," he said. "That's the only reason I do it."

Still, he appears determined to leverage his new council seat to move the radio station into the town hall. The radio's founders are left shaking their heads.

"Taking it to the town hall strips the radio station of its capacity to be a tool for social change. It will be to the detriment of the community and the community's young people," former student Mr. Taplin said. "Young people on Bell Island already have a hard shake at things. This radio station was something that was finally changing that."

Associated Graphic

The one-room Bell Island Radio station, top and below, was set up inside the cafeteria at St. Michael's Regional High School, and it helped make school the place to be for students. Wabana Councillor Henry Crane, above, shown during a council meeting on Thursday, is the radio board treasurer and he says he will 'die fighting' to improve the island.

Wabana, top, has had a tough go economically since the iron ore mine closed in 1966, but the 2013 launch of a radio station at St. Michael's Regional High School provided some hope for the community's young people. Then, with radio bingo generating significant revenue, a dispute involving the adults erupted. It became so bitter that the radio station was shut down and Tonya Kearley, the high school's principal, felt the need to move off Bell Island and commute to work from St. John's.


Tuesday, November 21, 2017

Back in the black: The new era of prudent oil
The days of 'drill, baby, drill' are gone. Now, crude-pumping companies are bringing efficiency and savings to the forefront as they try to compete in a world where prices are on the rise, but stability is threatened by a shifting political landscape, Shawn McCarthy writes from Ottawa and Jeff Lewis from Calgary
Saturday, November 18, 2017 – Print Edition, Page B6

In the glory days of $100 (U.S.) oil, Crescent Point Energy Corp. could do no wrong.

For years, the Calgary-based oil producer, known for hydraulic fracturing operations in neighbouring Saskatchewan, rushed to add production through a series of big deals financed with hefty share issues. By July, 2014, its stock price topped $47 (Canadian).

Then oil collapsed, savaging an industry that had grown fat on triple-digit prices. Crescent Point's earnings turned to big losses, and investors have punched the company's Toronto-listed shares down by roughly 80 per cent to under $10.

It's hardly unique: Over the same period, the TSX energy subindex declined 42 per cent. Today, Crescent Point is a humbled company in a battered industry.

But with global oil prices on the mend, Canadian oil producers are getting another chance to get it right. After years of slashing costs, executives are promising to not make the same mistakes of the past when they spent recklessly on lowreturn projects and let costs soar.

As Crescent Point looks toward its 2018 budget, chief executive Scott Saxberg insists the company won't outspend cash flow, as companies routinely did in years past. On the contrary, it has revisited nearly all aspects of its business in a bid to find cost savings wherever possible.

At its operations in Saskatchewan, the company is using video to monitor wells remotely, sparing crews from visiting each site individually in the field.

Such moves by Crescent Point and other producers are giving the industry better leverage to even small moves in oil prices. "Every dollar for us is, like, $65-million of cash flow," Mr. Saxberg said in an interview. "So if oil's up $5, it's well over [a] $300-million increase in cash flow."

In Calgary as in much of the global oil industry, the days of "drill, baby, drill" are gone. Increasingly, the focus is on productivity - using technology, digitization and data analytics to produce more oil and gas.

Companies are now far leaner, and executives are pledging to avoid risky, capital-intensive production growth at all costs while returning more cash to shareholders. To wit: Oil sands giant Suncor Energy Inc. this week chopped its 2018 budget by $750-million, but the company expects production to jump more than 10 per cent, freeing up cash for dividends and stock buybacks.

And for the first time in years, the global oil market is showing signs of lasting fundamental improvements.

Optimistic view Three years after the Saudi-led Organization of Petroleum Exporting Countries stunned the world by refusing to cut production to tame a global glut, the world's leading oil exporter is once again defending prices. Saudi Arabia has fuelled a global crude rally with its production cuts and high-risk political manoeuvring. In recent weeks, its headline-grabbing political turmoil has reverberated through the global market in the form of higher prices.

Crown Prince Mohammed bin Salman has shaken up the kingdom and its volatile, oil-rich neighborhood, simultaneously upending the decades-old power-sharing arrangement among the sprawling royal family and ratcheting up the conflict with the kingdom's regional arch-rival and OPEC partner, Iran.

His actions contributed to the growing perception of geopolitical risk among traders who, until recently, seemed impervious to such tumult. With the market already tightening after 10 months of OPEC production discipline, Prince Mohammed's aggressive moves helped propel crude prices to levels not seen in more than two years, albeit with a modest easing this week.

For Canadian producers, the autumn rally is being greeted with a sense of wariness. They've seen prices surge twice since the collapse of 2014, only to have them fall back under the weight of excessive inventories and strong American production growth.

This time, there are reasons to believe a floor has been established at $50 (U.S.) for West Texas intermediate and $55 for the international benchmark, Brent, at least for the next year. Since hitting a recent low of $42.53 in June, WTI rallied to 28month high of $57.20 last week, before giving up some gains to profit-taking this week to trade at around $56.62 on Friday. Brent was at $62.73.

It's too early to declare an end to the prolonged slump that has savaged Canada's leading export industry. The rebound is fragile, depending on Saudi discipline and strong global growth in demand.

Still, several factors support a more optimistic view on prices.

Saudi Arabia is again looking to calibrate its production levels in pursuit of a "Goldilocks" price - high enough to fuel its political requirements but not so high as to finance growth in the highest-cost sources such as the oil sands.

For the past several months, global demand has outpaced supply, drawing down the bloated inventories that depressed prices for three years. Some key OPEC members - Iraq, Venezuela, and Nigeria - face political challenges that are undermining their ability to maintain production.

The balance between supply and demand is tight enough that traders worry about the impact of significant disruptions among key producers, and so put a price on that risk.

"We have a tighter market and because of that, you are starting to see the classic political risk issues start to matter again," Rory Johnston, energy economist at the Bank of Nova Scotia, said in an interview.

"When the market was so glutted that you were building inventories every month, no one really cared if there was palace intrigue in Riyadh, or battles between Baghdad and Iraqi Kurdistan. All those things that could be swatted away because we had too much oil now matter because oil supply is tight."

Markets will be tested later this month when OPEC and leading non-OPEC producers such as Russia decide whether to continue their production agreement - which pledges to keep 1.8 million barrels of crude a day off the market - past the current March deadline and through 2018. While crude stocks have declined over the past several months, inventories would climb again early in the first quarter of 2018 unless the Saudis and their allies in OPEC keep a tight rein on production. Russia, in particular, has yet to commit to extending the production agreement beyond March.

Certainly no one is going to place big bets on higher oil prices. For one thing, the recent rally was fuelled in part by speculators flooding into the futures market at record rates. This week's pullback suggests some of those investors were taking profits.

"You've got really all three things going on right now: You've got less inventory, you've got less spare capacity in the world as demand has increased, and it's clear you also have more geopolitical risk than you had before," Anthony Marino, CEO of Calgary-based Vermilion Energy Inc., said in an interview.

But growing optimism is mixed with a recognition that the upturn in markets could sour again if the Saudis' grip on oil markets proves weaker than expected. Vermilion, for example, is still keeping a lid on its capital budget. Meanwhile, Crescent Point and others are boosting financial hedges - taking advantage of highs in the cycle to lock in prices for future production.

Speaking from an investors conference in Toronto, Mr. Marino said major cost reductions and a focus on higher-return prospects means the company can spend less without sacrificing growth. "It doesn't take us as much capital to grow as it used to," he saids. "That's why you see the lower capital budgets for the last number of years."

"Biggest bang for the buck" The Canadian industry has endured a three-year reckoning, evidenced by the relatively high unemployment in Alberta; empty office floors in downtown Calgary, and modest spending plans for the year ahead.

Prior to the crash, the entire nonOPEC sector was built on the presumption of $80 crude prices or better. Today, cost structures have improved markedly, but the industry's return on capital employed remains weak, averaging less than 3 per cent, according to BMO Nesbitt Burns Inc. analyst Randy Ollenberger.

Domestic producers are also grappling with structural challenges.

Among the biggest are looming pipeline shortages as a series of bigticket oil sands projects - begun prior to the crash - start up later this year.

Longer sterm, oil sands producers also face tighter fuel standards in the global shipping industry.

Changes set to take effect in 2020 aim to slash the sulphur in marine fuels from 3.5 per cent to 0.5 per cent. Among impacts predicted by analysts at boutique energy bank Tudor Pickering Holt & Co. is a reduction in demand for heavy crude of at least 1.75 million barrels a day as ships switch to cleaner options, a shift that could offset price gains from new pipeline construction.

Despite those challenges, oil sands producers have not stood still on costs. Bitumen producers have chopped non-energy operating costs at existing steam-driven plants by 46 per cent since early 2014; at mining developments, total operating costs are down 39 per cent, according to consultancy Wood Mackenzie. Nevertheless, executives are signalling restraint.

"Every dollar we have needs to be focused on creating the biggest bang for the buck," new Cenovus Energy Inc. CEO Alex Pourbaix said this week.

"This is an incredibly competitive industry. You're competing on the margin, at times it's pennies per barrel. And in this kind of a business with volatile commodity prices, you just have to be extraordinarily disciplined when it comes to your cost."

Much of the industry spending has already shifted away from the production complex surrounding Fort McMurray, Alta. This year, companies will have spent around $30billion (Canadian) developing prospects such as the Duvernay in Alberta and the Montney in British Columbia, according to ARC Financial Corp. That compares with around $13-billion in the oil sands, where new investment favours wringing more oil from existing assets.

The key variable: Saudi Arabia In the three years since prices tumbled, some of the world's biggest oil companies have fled the oil sands in pursuit of other priorities. Royal Dutch Shell PLC, Chevron Corp. and Norway's Statoil ASA are focusing on shale-oil deposits that offer fatter returns more quickly, offshore fields that can be developed more cheaply, or even natural gas deposits that many believe will be the key fossil fuel as the world shifts to a lower-carbon energy economy.

Even companies that have bulked up in the oil sands are looking to diversify. Canadian Natural Resources Ltd., which bought Shell's oil sands business and has poured billions into its expanding Horizon complex, recently highlighted light-oil prospects with potential to generate healthy returns at U.S. oil prices of $30 (U.S.) a barrel.

To understand fully the new mantra, consider Encana Corp. Its longterm debt now stands around $4.2billion, down from $7.3-billion three years ago. Production is forecast to grow next year even as spending stays flat around $1.7-billion, reflecting productivity gains at its core holdings and a "relentless" focus on costs, CEO Doug Suttles told investors recently.

The company has shrunk its complement of employees by nearly half since Mr. Suttles took the CEO job in 2013. "But it performs at a higher level than it did before," he said. "We don't think [the number of employees] has to grow as we grow."

Over the next five years, Encana is basing its growth plan on an assumption of a flat WTI oil price of $50 and U.S. natural gas prices of $3 for every million British thermal units. "If we ramp up activity, if we believe prices are strong, we'd only do that if we believe it's going to generate quality returns and we're not going to see erosion through higher costs," Mr. Suttles said.

Such caution is warranted. The International Energy Agency warned this week that the global benchmark Brent crude - which has been trading above $60 a barrel since late October - could slip back under that threshold in early 2018 owing to slowing demand growth and rising production in the United States, Canada and elsewhere.

Saudi Arabia is the key variable, both in terms of market risk and its willingness to adjust production according to its political interests.

The Saudis are again donning the mantle of price defender, at least for the short term. The kingdom is clearly no longer willing to flood the market and drive down prices in order to maintain its share of the global oil market as it did from 2014 through 2016.

Analysts suggest it is targeting a $60 price floor for Brent crude in order to support its planned share offering in state-owned Saudi Aramco and to lubricate Prince Mohammed's risky political gambits.

"The Saudis no longer have flexibility," said Amy Myers Jaffe, a senior fellow at the New York-based Council on Foreign Relations.

"They're committed to the [Aramco] IPO, which means they're committed to keeping prices up. They're probably committed to keeping them up anyway for their economy, particularly since they're taking other controversial political moves." King Salman and his chosen successor, Prince Mohammed, appear to have a firm grip on the Saudi state apparatus after jailing hundreds of members of the extended royal family on corruption charges.

However, Prince Mohammed's ascendancy may be threatened if his more aggressive foreign-policy stance puts the kingdom at risk.

Sunni-run Saudi Arabia is engaged in a fierce proxy war with Shiitedominated Iran, whose influence in Iraq, Syria, Lebanon, Bahrain and Yemen is seen as a major threat.

Riyadh rattled nerves and threatened a new regional war when it apparently forced Lebanese Prime Minister Saad al-Hariri to announce his resignation during a visit to Saudi Arabia.

The resignation is the result of a continuing feud between the Saudis and Iran over the latter's support for Hezbollah in Lebanon.

Last week, crude prices jumped when Saudi Arabia banged the war drum after a missile landed in Riyadh from Yemen, where the Saudis have intervened in a civil war that is devastating the civilian population.

Ms. Myers Jaffe said the risk to global oil supplies from escalating conflict between Saudi Arabia and Iran cannot be overstated. The five leading producers huddled around the Persian Gulf account for the production of 24 million barrels a day of crude, fully 73 per cent of OPEC's total and 25 per cent of the world supply. The more likely scenario, however, is continued proxy battles in places such as Yemen and Bahrain, where a Saudi-backed government faces unrest from its Shiite majority.

At the same time, the Saudis' determination to defend a $60 Brent price will make it difficult for the OPEC leader to police the production agreement among producers countries such as Russia, Iraq and even Kuwait, said Greg Priddy, an OPEC-watcher at New York-based Eurasia Group.

Historically, the Saudis have enforced discipline within OPEC with the perception that they could withstand lower prices for longer than other cartel members. If OPEC members cheated on their agreedupon production limits, the Saudis would drive down prices until the recalcitrant members came onside.

Knowing the Saudis are committed to supporting prices at $60 could encourage cheating, even as OPEC and leading non-OPEC producers agree to extend their accord through 2018, Mr. Priddy said. King Salman and Prince Mohammed are clearly aware of the dilemma, but they need higher prices more than they need coherence or market share, for now.

"The Saudis have really shifted into a short-term mode of thinking, which we think is all about succession," Mr. Priddy said. "It's not that they don't understand they're stimulating competing supplies, it's just that high politics have overridden that on a one-year time frame.

Beyond that, it is going to make sense for them to start looking at market share again," he added.

Shale oil boom In addition to its Persian Gulf neighbours and friends such as Russia, the Saudis have to worry about the Americans. Already, tight-oil producers are adding drilling rigs and fracking crews into fields such as the Permian in West Texas, where production growth continued despite the downturn.

The increase in West Texas intermediate has lagged Brent as lack of transportation infrastructure created a glut in Cushing, Okla., where WTI is priced. But as new pipelines come into operation later this year and into 2018, landlocked American producers will see WTI prices close the gap with Brent.

Despite concerns about pipeline shortages and the lack of experienced crews, U.S. tight-oil supply is expected to grow by some one million barrels a day next year, said Jodi Quinnell, manager of crude oil analytics for Genscape Inc. in Denver. And that's with WTI averaging roughly $50 a barrel.

It remains to be seen whether a new-found focus among U.S. producers on shareholder returns, versus production gains at all costs, acts as a check on growth. Ms. Quinnell said the industry continues to drive costs down through productivity gains, even as majors like Exxon Mobil Corp. and Chevron Corp. - who were absent in the pre-2016 shale boom - refocus on the resurgent tight-oil plays.

Scotiabank economists estimate the U.S. tight-oil production could grow by as much as 1.5 million barrels per day next year, if prices remain near $55 and infrastructure bottlenecks are solved. At some point, between a year and 18 months from now, the Saudis could find themselves having to refight the market-share battle that led to the industry's worst downturn in 20 years, Mr. Priddy said.

A new mindset For now, the combination of a higher price and operating discipline is beginning to draw investors back to the sector, albeit slowly.

This week, Whitecap Energy Inc. said it would sell $332.5-million (Canadian) worth of shares to fund its acquisition of a major Saskatchewan oil property. A source said the issue sold briskly, but it follows a long dry spell in energy financings.

In the third quarter, the industry raised $352-million in equity, a fraction of the $3.4-billion total during the same period a year ago, according to Sayer Energy Advisors. Debt financings were $809-million against the year-ago total of $1.1billion.

At Crescent Point, changes are taking root. Using video to monitor wells has allowed workers to tackle problems where they're needed. The company is also testing solar installations at two sites in partnership with SaskPower. New hires are as likely to be technologists as rig hands.

"We can put that manpower to work on more technical aspects of the business," CEO Mr. Saxberg said.

"There's a whole pile of technology that we are testing and moving on that is pretty exciting, and it's changing the mindset of how these fields are managed."

Crescent Point (CPG)

Close: $9.57, up 12¢

Associated Graphic

Pump jacks operate at an Alberta oil well owned by Encana, whose production is forecast to increase next year.


Escalating conflict between Saudi Arabia - which has oil fields outside of Riyadh, seen in 2008 - and Iran threatens the global supply of oil and cannot be overstated, one expert says.


Crescent Point Energy, which owns a drilling rig near Oungre, Sask., seen in 2012, aims to spend more conservatively in its 2018 budget, not wanting to outspend cash flow.


. The Airbus CEO explains why he jumped at the chance to take over Bombardier's C Series project - and Canada's future role in it
Saturday, November 18, 2017 – Print Edition, Page B1

MUNICH -- Tom Enders fixes a piercing stare and leans forward to explain what finally made him decide to agree to take control of Bombardier Inc.'s flagging C Series program.

The chief executive officer of Airbus SE had spent weeks last summer watching teams from Bombardier and Airbus try to hammer out a partnership deal, using the code name Selene, the Greek goddess of the moon, to keep everything secret. But, as the discussions dragged on, Mr. Enders knew something had to be done. So he arranged to meet Bombardier CEO Alain Bellemare and a small group of senior executives at a law office in London during the last week of September. Over the next few days, and after a final face-to-face meeting in Munich, they reached an agreement that will see Airbus take majority control of the C Series and roll the $6-billion aircraft program into the French giant's global operation.

Two weeks later, the announcement sent shock waves through the aerospace world and left Canadian taxpayers wondering what they'd got for their $1-billion-plus investment in Bombardier. Why would Airbus take over an aircraft program the company's chief salesman mocked as doomed and that Mr. Enders once dismissed as, too risky? For Mr. Enders the answer was simple: gut instinct.

"Always in life, human interaction is so important," he said in an interview at Airbus's offices in Munich this week. "It can convince you to make the last step and say, 'Okay, now I'm really convinced. It can also work the other way around.' And you say, 'Somehow my gut feeling says I don't trust these people.' "

With Mr. Bellemare, there was immediate trust and "no bullshitting, no trying to manoeuvre around each other."

Instincts and a strong sense of fearlessness have driven Mr. Enders in business and in life. After all, he's a former paratrooper who holds the rank of major in the German Army reserve. He flies military helicopters for fun. And he still skydives regularly at the age of 58 and likes to recite the skydivers' code: "Once you leave an airplane, you are dead - until you do something about it."

During a lunch of salmon, steak and Bavarian beer at Airbus's defence and space centre, Mr. Enders talks at length about his high hopes for the C Series and his dream of building a closer relationship with Canada. But he's also blunt about the challenges facing the aircraft and his expectations from the Canadian government in return for his company's rescue of the C Series and 12,500 direct and indirect jobs in Canada.

Mr. Enders doesn't mince words or put on airs. Dressed in blue jeans, a green sports jacket and a casual shirt, he arrives only slightly late and apologized for cancelling an earlier telephone interview. The blunt talk, plain wardrobe and polite manners stem from his nononsense upbringing in rural Germany as the son of a shepherd. He also craves action. Without the challenge of running a company with 134,000 employees, $100-billion in annual revenue and thousands of aircraft flying in and out of almost every country, he says he just might get restless. "I've never been good at being bored," he says solemnly. He's slow to engage but after 45 minutes or so he begins to unload, offering thoughts on Munich architecture, bemoaning London house prices and quoting the Rolling Stones. But there's one theme he keeps coming back to: the C Series and its new-found importance to Airbus.

This partnership "is good for Canada, it's good for us, it's good for America because we will create additional jobs, and it's very good for airlines," he says. The two C Series models, the CS100, which has 100 seats, and the CS300 with up to 160 seats, fill a hole in the Airbus lineup of single-aisle aircraft and give the company an unparalleled breadth of offerings from small regional jets to 500-seat superjumbos. It also opens new opportunities for Bombardier, as it taps into Airbus's global supply chain, and the Canadian government as it seeks to modernize the military.

And then comes the cautious pragmatism.

"But we have considerable hurdles that we have to take before we can really take off," Mr. Enders says. "And I have no doubt that the bad guys will throw at us whatever they can think."

The "bad guys" are Boeing Co., Airbus's perennial rival and a bogeyman for Bombardier. The Chicago-based plane maker has been locked in a bitter trade dispute with Bombardier, alleging its government assistance has been unfair and that the Montreal manufacturer is selling the C Series in the United States at "absurdly low" prices. For now, the U.S. Department of Commerce has agreed, proposing slapping 300-per-cent tariffs on C Series imports, effectively shutting the Bombardier plane out of its largest market. The Airbus deal could solve all of that in one fell swoop and Mr. Enders is ready to help.

His plan is to open a C Series assembly line at an Airbus plant in Mobile, Ala., thereby doing an end run around the tariffs by ensuring the plane is American-made. It's a risky proposition. There's no guarantee U.S. officials will buy the idea and Boeing isn't letting up, arguing the Alabama assembly line is a ruse. Airbus has also hurt its cause with recent revelations that the company provided inaccurate information to the U.S. State Department about its arms sales practices. The company is already under investigation in Europe over allegations it used intermediaries to pay bribes and the U.S. misstep could lead to another probe, and hand ammunition to Boeing.

"It's not pretty. It's not going to help," Mr. Enders says. "But it's a different issue."

He's counting on political allies in Alabama to make the company's case and he's banking on the "America first" attitude of U.S.

President Donald Trump, who would be hard pressed to balk at job creation in a jurisdiction where he is still popular. "We're quite confident. Otherwise, we wouldn't have taken [the partnership]," he says. "But it's not like 95 per cent. I think that the probability is lower but we have a good chance to pull this off and we'll try hard."

Costs are another matter. Airbus has promised to keep Bombardier's C Series assembly facilities in Canada and protect jobs at its Northern Ireland location, where about 1,000 workers make wings for the aircraft. But cost overruns have already plagued the C Series program and adding another assembly line in Mobile, which could cost $300million (U.S.), would add to the expense. Mr. Enders acknowledges that costs have to come down "considerably," although he won't put a figure on it. The real key, he says, is boosting sales.

"It's an easy calculation. We're quite confident that we can sell the C Series much better than Bombardier was able to do so far because we do it under Airbus with our global sales network, our global supply chain network. So, if we sell many more of these aircraft, obviously, that's good news for the jobs wherever they are."

Maybe, but will he guarantee jobs won't be lost?

"We're not in the business of guaranteeing each and every job.

Obviously, sometimes you have also synergies and stuff like that but, [job cuts] aren't part of the plan," he says. "Part of the plan is to drive down the cost and to sell the C Series, hopefully by the thousands, and that will create a lot of value in Canada; that will keep the jobs in Northern Ireland."

He's less enthusiastic about the sales outlook for the C Series than Bombardier. The Canadian plane maker has predicted there will be sufficient demand for 6,000 similar-sized airplanes over the next 20 years, a figure some analysts say is too optimistic. Mr. Enders said his outlook is in the range of 4,000 to 6,000 planes, but he insisted that even 4,000 would be an enormous number and that there was no reason the C Series couldn't supply half the total.

This isn't the first time Airbus has considered taking on the C Series. There have been two other attempts, one in 2005 and the other in 2015. Mr. Enders wasn't involved the first time around, but as a senior manager at the company he knew discussions had taken place. By 2015, he was CEO and led the talks. He spent weeks poring over the C Series, but his gut wasn't convinced. The risks were too high. "Basically, the aircraft was not certified yet," he recalls. "So there was some uncertainty around the product and the further development."

He dropped the idea altogether and Airbus generally lost interest in the plane. So, when Mr. Bellemare came calling in early August, along with officials from the Canadian government, Mr. Enders was caught off guard. He didn't know at the time that Bombardier and Boeing had ended negotiations about a similar partnership as a way of resolving Boeing's trade complaint. And he didn't know that the Canadian government had steered Bombardier toward Airbus and away from a possible deal with Chinese plane makers. Nonetheless, the message from the Canadians to THE CV: TOM ENDERS .

Born: Dec. 21, 1958, in Neuschlade, Germany. He is the oldest of four children, whose father was a shepherd and mother a homemaker.

Education: Studied economics, history and politics at the University of Bonn and the University of California at Los Angeles.

Completed a doctorate in political science at Bonn by the age of 28.

Career: During his 20s, Mr. Enders worked as an assistant in the German parliament and served as a research assistant at various think tanks. From 1989 to 1991, he was a member of the planning staff at the defence ministry. He joined DaimlerChrysler Aerospace in 1991 and when DASA teamed up with aerospace companies in France and Spain to form the European Aeronautic Defence and Space Company (EADS), he became head of the defence division. In 2005, he was named co-CEO with France's Noël Forgeard.

In 2007, EADS scrapped the dualCEO jobs and Mr. Enders became head of the Airbus division, leaving Frenchman Louis Gallois as the only CEO. In 2012, he took over as CEO and renamed the company Airbus.

Personal: Mr. Enders is married and has four sons. He lives in Munich but travels frequently to Airbus's head office in Toulouse, France. He enjoys skydiving and flying helicopters.

Mr. Enders was clear: Would you mind taking another look?

"We said yeah, okay, let's look into that, let's look at our files from the last discussion and let's see what's new." Times had changed. The C Series was now in commercial use, albeit on a limited basis, and it was winning rave reviews from pilots who loved the technology and passengers who loved the spacious interior. "It was two years more advanced and that convinced us that it would make a lot of sense for us," Mr. Enders says.

The final deal has been controversial. Airbus isn't paying any cash for the majority position while Bombardier will see its stake fall to 31 per cent while the Quebec government will drop to 19 per cent ownership from 49-per-cent, despite sinking $1-billion (U.S.) into the airplane. There's a buyout clause that lets either side prompt a sale to Airbus at "fair market value" in seven years, but to many Canadian observers this smacked of Airbus pulling a fast one and taking advantage of Bombardier's desperation. Mr. Enders demurs and says Bombardier and Quebec weren't desperate. They were realistic.

"I think Bombardier and the Quebec government made a very smart decision by betting and assuming, and I think rightly assuming, that this activity will be worth far more once we have been able to really sell these aircrafts by the hundreds or more than today," he says. "It's one thing to develop a great aircraft. The engineering power at Bombardier is amazing.

The other thing is to sell it worldwide and to have sufficient leverage with all these suppliers. ... I think it speaks very much about the realism of the top management at Bombardier and also the second shareholder, the government of Quebec, they realized that weakness and said we need to compensate for that."

He won't commit to buying out the others in seven years, saying it's too early for that kind of discussion. But he wants it known that Airbus sees this deal as just the start of a lasting relationship with Canada. And that includes the Canadian government.

Airbus has made Canada its fifth home country, ranking it alongside Airbus co-founders France, Germany, Spain and Britain.

For Mr. Enders, that designation carries real meaning and expectation. "You expect your home country to at least take a very fair view of your own industry, and if that industry's competitive with what it's offering for your needs, that you favour your industry. That is what home country is about," he says.

It's a not-too-subtle message to Canadian politicians that Airbus expects to be considered whenever the government thinks about buying airplanes, jet fighters, military transport planes or even satellites.

Already, Airbus is preparing plans to submit a proposal for its Typhoon fighter jet now that the Canadian government has signalled it won't buy fighters from Boeing as long as the trade dispute continues. "There is a broad array of topics where I think we can engage," he says. "I'm sure we can do more if the will on both sides is there, and on the Airbus side, clearly that is the case."

Canadian and Quebec politicians would do well to heed Mr. Enders.

He's used to dealing with politicians and doesn't shy away from a fight. Lately, he's been the focus of rumours that French President Emmanuel Macron doesn't like him and wants him fired. When asked about the controversy, Mr.

Enders gives a wry smile. "Look, I've seen enough crisis and battles in my career," he says rhyming off his 26 years in the business, including 17 at Airbus. A fight with the President of France? Bring it on.

Mr. Enders is the one who pushed to overhaul Airbus's corporate structure, transforming it from a state-founded entity and eliminating government interference in the operations, which included having two CEOs, one from France and one from Germany. He also moved the head office to France from Germany, incurring the wrath of local politicians, and he took on angry unions in Europe when Airbus dared to open an assembly line in China.

He finds the current rumours amusing and chalks it up to the emotional nature of the industry.

"So that government X, Y, or Z likes me or dislikes me is one thing, but much more important is that I have the confidence of the board," he says. "I take it as a positive sign that governments are still interested in our well-being. But that's about it."

The bribery allegations do hurt and Mr. Enders has gone to great lengths to introduce sweeping changes at Airbus. He's launched an internal probe, brought in experts to train managers and made it clear that from the top down, ethical behaviour is mandatory. He also hopes to bring more diversity to the company, adding that, while most of Airbus's business is now in Asia, the company has no Asian managers or directors. It's also lacking women in senior roles and is failing to attract enough young people to replace the 55,000 staff who are expected to retire over the next five years. "If you have only white, middle-aged men who think more or less the same way, that's a much bigger risk than having a diverse set of people with different nationalities, different agendas, and different races looking at stuff from slightly different angles," he says.

The Bombardier deal is part of that effort and he sees Canadians helping add to Airbus's diversity.

With so much going on at Airbus, it's not hard to imagine that the C Series will get lost in the shuffle. Just this week, the company announced a massive $50billion deal for 430 jets with Indigo Partners, a U.S.-based firm that has interests in four airlines.

Where Bombardier fits in is a concern shared by some analysts, who say cost challenges and the U.S. trade dispute could result in the C Series partnership failing. Mr. Enders disagrees.

"It will not be lost. The singleaisle business is our bread-and-butter business and the C Series will be an important part at the lower end of our single-aisle business in the future, if we make this deal happen," he says. "I'm keen to develop a broad relationship with Canada and with, possibly, Bombardier when it comes to aeronautics in the future. ... We have products to offer, we have services to offer. Canada has a lot to offer in terms of a skilled work force, in terms of new technologies, in terms of aeronautics. That's clear and we'll see where this goes."

With that, he's up and out the door, striding briskly across a sidewalk in the maze of Airbus buildings in a Munich suburb. He smiles as the afternoon sun beats down.

He is comfortable here, amid the military hardware and in a part of Germany he adores. He has lived in Munich with his wife and four sons for more than 20 years, embracing the winter sports scene and spending summer days hiking in the nearby mountains. As he walks he checks his watch and asks about the time of sunset. About 4:30 p.m., he's told. Just enough time to take a spin in a helicopter.

Associated Graphic

Tom Enders, chief executive officer of Airbus SE, seen in France in 2014, says, 'The engineering power at Bombardier is amazing.'


The CEOs shake on it: Bombardier's Alain Bellemare, left, and Airbus's Tom Enders visit the Bombardier plant in Mirabel, Que., in October.


An Airbus A320neo and a Bombardier C Series were hauled out for the backdrop at the news conference near Toulouse, France, in October to announce the partnership.


Life in the trenches of the opioid crisis
Three Americans who have struggled with addiction detail when they knew they had a problem and how they've coped with it
Associated Press
Wednesday, November 22, 2017 – Print Edition, Page L4

NASHVILLE -- It's hard to say whether businessman Kyle Graves hit rock bottom when he shot himself in the ankle so emergency-room doctors would feed his opioid habit or when he broke into a safe to steal his father's cancer pain medicine.

For straight-talking ex-trucker Jeff McCoy, it was when he grabbed a gun and threatened to blow his brains out if his mother didn't hand over his fentanyl patches.

For newly minted lawyer Bianca Knight, it happened after hitting the street to find pills when her opioid prescription ran out, as she envisioned her career dreams crumbling.

Addiction to powerful painkillers sneaked up on Graves, McCoy and Knight, ordinary Americans who began taking the drugs legitimately for pain but, like millions of others, got caught up in the worst opioid epidemic in U.S. history.

Now they're fighting the same tough, slippery battle for recovery, owing their lives, they say, to an antiaddiction medicine similar to pills that nearly led to their demise. They credit a Nashville doctor too, an addiction specialist who also works as a Vanderbilt University pain-medicine physician - sometimes recommending the same drugs to pain patients that brought the others to the brink.

The ironies and tragedies of the crisis are not lost on Dr. Dan Lonergan, who faced his own dark abyss years ago in medical school, when his older brother died suddenly of a possible opioid overdose.

He's heard criticism about doctors "who get 'em hooked on drugs and then turn around and treat 'em for addiction." And he's seen the fingerpointing from those who think faith and willpower are the answer, who say prescribing opioid drugs to treat addiction is trading one vice for another.

"Doctors have contributed to this problem. In the past three decades, we have gotten a lot of patients on medications that can be very dangerous," he said. "The pharmaceutical industry has contributed significantly to this problem. This is a problem that we all need to own."

But to stigmatize addiction as a moral failing rather than a brain disease is wrong, Lonergan says.

Research has shown that opioid drugs can cause brain changes leading to uncontrollable cravings for drug use even when it leads to dangerous and unhealthy behaviour. To not offer medicine as a treatment, he says, would be like withholding insulin from a diabetic.

This is a snapshot of those in the trenches of the United States' addiction crisis. More than two million people are hooked on opioids. Overdoses from these drugs have killed more than 300,000 Americans since 2000, and they are killing an average of 120 people every day. Even for survivors, success never quite seems certain.

The family man

Kyle Graves groans slightly as he sits down on the dark leather sofa in his apartment living room, feeling the stabbing pains that a daily handful of pills used to ease. At the age of 54, he shares the small but comfortable space with his ailing mother, bedridden from a stroke, and two small dogs in Franklin, Tenn., an affluent Nashville suburb.

Framed thrift-shop art posters and second-hand knick-knacks decorate the place - fitting decor for a man seeking a second chance at life.

Graves's troubles began more than a decade ago, when he sought relief for degenerative arthritis in his hips, shoulders, feet and back. He was prescribed hydrocodone, an opioid drug that works best for short-term pain but is risky and potentially addictive when used long term.

He got several refills for persistent pain. But when he lost his dream job as a car-dealership finance manager, Graves found the pills helped get him through that crisis, too.

He was a functioning addict when his sixth child was born - a boy named Joshua Jeremiah who contracted spinal meningitis during childbirth. The infant clung to life for six weeks; his death sent Graves sinking deeper into addiction.

He'd use up a month's supply of pills from pain clinics in days, followed by terrible withdrawals - vomiting, diarrhea, shaking uncontrollably and intense pain. It's familiar territory for addiction patients.

Graves turned desperate after a doctor refused more refills, suspecting he was selling the drugs because opioids didn't show up in a routine urine test - he'd swallowed them all weeks earlier.

With his wife at work and kids outside playing basketball, Graves grabbed a loaded .22-calibre pistol from his bedroom nightstand.

"I thought, 'I really can't hurt myself by shooting myself in the foot or ankle.' I thought that story sounded legit." He pulled the trigger, then called an ambulance.

At the hospital, two shots of morphine "did the trick." The only pain he recalls was when doctors removed the bullet. Graves thinks only his wife suspected the ruse.

She grew weary and left with the kids - the harshest blow to a man who worships family.

Finally, jobless and living in a lonely Nashville motel room, Graves knew he had to seek help. "I lost my wife, my kids, my home," he said. "It just devastated and ruined my life. I never thought anything like that could happen to me."

His sister helped send him to a California rehab centre, where hard work and prayer were the main treatments. It worked for a time, but after relapsing, Graves sought help from Lonergan, who prescribed recovery medicine containing buprenorphine, an opioid drug that reduces cravings and withdrawal symptoms.

Graves has been on the pills for about three years. He says weaning himself "would be a struggle that I haven't wanted to try yet."

He has had setbacks, the most recent in 2015, when money was tight, his youngest daughter was distant and he was facing another Christmas without his kids. He knows they won't come around if he falls back into addiction.

His hopes of rebuilding a life with those five kids, now grown, helping keep him clean.

"I'd like to have a house, a place they can come over and have a cookout on the weekend," he said.

"They know I love 'em with all my heart," he said. "They still have issues. I've offered to get them together and talk to them. I guess they're not ready yet."

Graves's triggers are tragedy and misfortune; he tries not to dwell on what the future might bring.

"I don't worry about it a lot right now. Anything could happen, though, that could change that," he said. "You never know."

Pain wakes Graves up at night and greets him in the morning. He takes nothing stronger than over-thecounter pain relievers. He has stopped asking Lonergan for opioid pain pills. The answer was always no.

"I've come to tears in his office," Graves said. "I'm going to get older and it's just going to get worse. ... What is a guy like me supposed to do?" He passed an important test a few months ago, when another doctor prescribed opioids after shoulder surgery. Graves took the pills as directed, then quit.

He's on disability now; looking after his mom keeps him busy.

Sometimes he writes country songs - some sound good enough to be played in clubs 30 kilometres up Highway 65 in Nashville, and it doesn't take much prodding to get him to share one.

"A man's gotta do what a man's gotta do, when he's loving a woman, a woman like you," Graves sings.

"He'll sacrifice and give all he's got, to keep the fire burning, to keep the fires hot."

At times, in the middle of the night, when back pain flares, he still fights flickers of temptation.

"It really never leaves you," Graves said. "The voices always still call you back to the darkness. You just have to ignore 'em and go on."

On a country lane 60 kilometres outside Nashville, a lanky tattooed man wearing overalls and a do-rag gingerly leans over to tend sunflower seedlings in his spartan front yard.

Jeff McCoy, 56, is a straight-talking study in contrasts. He's been a methusing country-band drummer, Harley rider and long-haul trucker, but these days, McCoy calls himself a house husband - gardening, baking cookies for family and friends, doing crochet and doting on his wife, Joanne. Recovery from opioid painkillers prompted the turnaround.

It started nearly 17 years ago, after surgery for a progressive back injury: Could be from baling hay as a boy, or too much time on the road - he's not really sure, but it forced him to retire from trucking. His doctor prescribed Vicodin - painkillers that contain hydrocodone. After a year, he was hooked.

"I just went full bore," McCoy says.

"I was popping pills like crazy."

When those stopped working, he was prescribed fentanyl patches, powerful opioid medicine often used for intractable cancer pain. Placed on the skin, they deliver medicine gradually. McCoy figured out that yanking them off and chewing them worked faster. He didn't know it can be fatal.

"Phew - what a rush. I'm not gonna lie - awesome. It makes you feel invincible," he said.

Medicated, McCoy says, he felt normal. But then the pain returned and when he ran out of medication, withdrawal symptoms kicked in. "That's when my body was just aching for that opiate," he said.

"I didn't wake up one day and say, 'Oh my God, I'm addicted.' It just happened," he said.

He knew he was in trouble when his wife started locking up the patches in a safe. When he found the key, his mother - who lives nearby - took over doling out the drugs.

"Got to the point where I got on the phone with mom: 'You better bring me that patch right now, else I'm splattering my brains all over this living room.' I wouldn't have done it.

I don't think I woulda," McCoy said.

"Who knows?" When his wife threatened to leave, he finally got help.

"I came close to losing her, and I love her more than anything in the world," he said. "I'd honestly die for her."

He checked himself in to a detox centre, and began a new year, 2009, with two hellish weeks of withdrawal. "It was rough. It was scary. They locked the door," McCoy said. "It was the best thing that ever happened to me."

He figures he'll be on anti-craving medication for life, even though sometimes now he takes just half a pill and still has some left when it's time for a refill. That didn't happen when he was taking pain medication.

"I'd have to suffer until I had my doctor appointment," he said.

"That's the worst part about it.

You're all high when you got that big ol' bottle of pills, you're all happy party time. Then as it slowly goes down and slowly gets emptier and emptier, that's when the anxiety [hits]. 'What am I gonna do, where am I gonna get some more?' "Now, he says his wife is his addiction. "She's my everything, she's my drug. All she has to do is walk by me and pat me on the head and I'm like a dog in heaven."

She taught him to crochet, a hobby for summer months when it's too hot to bake. Cooking, cleaning and grocery shopping are also therapeutic for a man who hates to sit still.

Back pain still bothers him; he spends a chunk of each day flat on his back to rest it. His addiction medication helps a little and he worries about not being able to find a doctor to prescribe it, if he or Lonergan were to move away.

Special training is required to prescribe that medicine in an office setting instead of the kind of treatment clinics where methadone, another opioid recovery medicine, is prescribed.

Still, McCoy says he doesn't worry about relapsing.

"I can honestly say I don't even think about pain medication," he said. "I'm not tempted one iota."

He jokes that his life now is "boring as hell, but I'm happy."

"The only thing that makes me different" from other addicts "is I finally wanted to stop," McCoy said. "If I can survive with no life, come on, it's worth it, but you gotta want to."

The lawyer At the end of three gruelling years in law school, after graduating with honours and passing the bar exam, Bianca Knight had a nagging question too tough for even the smartest lawyer.

"How do I know if I have a problem?" she asked Lonergan.

Knight had spent the past two years medicated - every day - on hydrocodone pills a different doctor had prescribed when she injured two spinal discs lugging around heavy law books.

They helped with the pain, along with steroid injections, but she found the pills did something else.

"They also gave me a euphoric feeling and helped me get through my long day in law school," she said. "It made it all easier."

Knight, 37, is nearly blind from a rare optic nerve condition she developed several years ago. It may have added to her challenges, but she wasn't going to let it stop her from pursuing a career. She knew of blind lawyers, and a state program for the disabled paid for a reader who helped with her law-school homework.

When she got her first opioid prescription, she was given a vague warning that some people can become dependent on the drugs, but thought, "that won't happen to me."

Opioids made her feel energetic, not impaired. Soon, Knight was thinking about them all the time, and taking far more than the prescribed amount.

"Toward the end, I resorted to buying off the street," claiming to have had dental work and no insurance, Knight said. "Eventually someone can point you in the direction of someone looking to get rid of some drugs."

But resorting to street pills made her worry about her safety and the legal ramifications, picturing her career dreams crumbling if she didn't seek help.

When she asked whether she had a problem, the doctor explained addiction and told her the average person doesn't think about opioid pain pills 24/7 and carry them around in a purse.

Knight agreed to try buprenorphine treatment. Attending church and support-group meetings also help, she says. She was able to continue medication treatment when she became pregnant last fall, which helps with her continuing pain. She says the baby is extra incentive for her to stay clean.

"Now, I've got someone else counting on me," Knight said.

Still, relapse is in the back of her mind and Knight said she knows future challenges could make her vulnerable.

"For anyone in recovery, it is a daily struggle and I'd be a fool not to think so," Knight said.

The doctor Lonergan says relapse is the biggest risk for patients recovering from opioid addiction. The drugs work by attaching to chemical receptors in the brain and sending signals that block pain and create pleasurable feelings.

Repeated use can lead to drug tolerance, meaning increasingly high doses are needed to produce the same effect. In recovery, patients lose that tolerance so resuming the drugs can be fatal.

Addiction medicine - buprenorphine and methadone - act on the same drug receptors but produce much milder effects, along with reducing cravings and withdrawal symptoms.

As a pain specialist, Lonergan sometimes prescribes opioids to patients with no history of drug abuse. But for patients taking medicine for their addiction, he won't, no matter how strenuous their pleas.

"Every day in my practice there are conflicts like that," Lonergan said.

His double focus on pain and addiction is personal. When he was a second-year medical student, Lonergan got an early-morning phone call from his distraught father with the news that his older brother was found dead on the couch.

The young man used powerful painkillers for severe headaches and other medical problems, and his death was considered a possible accidental overdose.

"There may be some therapy for me in treating patients with addiction, but you never recover from the loss," Lonergan said softly. "There's still a hole there that will never be filled."

Lonergan says the opioid crisis is compounded by not enough specialists trained to treat it as well as a persistent stigma, especially in Bible Belt states such as Tennessee. He says patients' families can sabotage their recovery efforts by telling them church, not medicine, is the answer.

Many of Lonergan's patients are on addiction medication long term, although some can be weaned off.

What he has found though, is that most need other addiction-fighting tools, too - counselling, group meetings, social support, learning to manage life's problems "in more old-fashioned ways," he said.

Even with all that, he said, "there's still a lot within the patient that has to come from the heart."

Associated Graphic

Kyle Graves, who is in recovery for opioid addiction, sits in the home he shares with his mother in Franklin, Tenn. Graves's troubles began years ago, when he sought relief for degenerative arthritis in his hips.


Dr. Dan Lonergan, a pain specialist who also focuses on addiction, treats patient Jeff McCoy at his practice in Franklin.


Tina's turning point
Tina Brown's book, The Vanity Fair Diaries: 1983-1992, chronicles her pivotal time at the iconic magazine
Saturday, November 18, 2017 – Print Edition, Page R1

By the late 1980s, Britain-born Brown was reaching the pinnacle of her storied career. In London, she had already rejuvenated the moribund Tatler magazine, and at the age of 31 moved to New York to rescue the struggling Condé Nast title Vanity Fair, which she transformed into a must-buy chronicle of social excess and political depth. A mother of one and with another child on the way (and married to another publishing icon, Harold Evans), Brown was figuring out how to pivot her magazine - and her career - to the next decade.

Monday, July 2, 1990 Quogue, N.Y.

Have been closing Marie Brenner's terrific piece on Donald and Ivana Trump. We wanted to capture their fascinating repositioning now that they are divorcing and Ivana has been upgraded to superstar victim of a brutish, philandering husband, which she is playing to the hilt. Marie has been able to establish such a pattern of lying and loud-mouthing in Trump that it's incredible he still prospers and gets banks to loan him money. Great quote where his brother says Donald was the kid who threw cake at the birthday party. He's like some monstrous id creation of his father, a cartoon assemblage of all his worst characteristics mixed with the particular excesses of the new media age. The revelation that he has a collection of Hitler's speeches at the office is going to make a lot of news.

I feel more and more pregnant, which has been awkward as 60 Minutes has been filming in the office for a piece about us, a coup for VF. Will be incredible exposure that could drive up circulation exponentially. I am nervous about the footage they have got. I realize I called Sly Stallone's fiancée a bimbo in the art department when they were filming and am praying they don't use it (as I would for sure if I'd been the reporter!).

Wednesday, Aug. 22, 1990

So long between entries. Have had the whole family to stay at Quogue [on Long Island]. Heaven having the cousins here for [Brown's son] George.

When not with the kids have been glued to CNN, watching the developments in the crisis in the Gulf since Saddam Hussein invaded Kuwait. He's such a preposterous figure, with the backward beret and huge chimneysweep mustache, but clearly much more dangerous than anyone gave him credit for. No one took Hitler seriously either. It seems to be the hallmark of the most dangerous dictators that no one considers them a threat until too late.

The September issue is a news storm with the Trump piece and the Hitler speeches revelation. Happily, Trump trashed us to Barbara Walters on her show, and that spun another column from Liz Smith.

Monday, Sept. 17, 1990 A lot of stuff happening as I wait for baby X, who we now know, to my wild joy, is a girl. G is getting excited, too. I find myself thinking about her all the time. Will we be as close as I have always been to my own mother? I never had rebellious years with Mum. All my rebellion was focused on school. It's a wonderfully soothing feeling, the notion of a best friend coming whom I haven't even met.

VF sales have been punished by Iraq and Desert Storm. There's an ad recession we didn't expect. The war is bad for a magazine with a title like Vanity Fair, just as the thirties were bad for it before. VF suggests glamour and levity and that's not the mood of the times. I am moving the editorial in a more serious direction by choice as much as need, but perception will lag behind the reality of what's now in our pages. The split identity we have evolved of the movie star on the cover and the grit inside has worked well for us until this moment, but it's hard to judge how much to change in the news direction without also alienating the huge audience who love that high-low balance that we do.

Meanwhile Harry's had an amazing offer that couldn't have come at a more difficult moment, just as I am about to give birth and want him more at my side.

He was asked to be the editorial boss of Random House, as president/publisher, which is a fantastic opportunity and restores him to the top of the tree, where he belongs. If Harry does Random House, that locks us into NYC for another five years. I will have to stop imagining there could still be an alternate reality in London. The decision was brought into nerve-racking relief when, on his way out to Quogue from the Hunterspoint Avenue train station, a menacing thug in a beanie leapt out of nowhere, pointed a gun at him, and demanded all his money. Took it and fled. It rattled us both. I kept thinking of how he could have become one of those news stories we devour in the Post.

Tuesday, Oct. 16, 1990

Waiting for baby D-day! My cesarean is scheduled for Oct. 22. Dr. Thornton thinks that with the prematurity of G and the miscarriage, I should not risk natural birth. Oddly, I have never felt more energized and focused, ballooning around the office and getting work cleared so I can soon disappear. [Cover of comedian] Roseanne [Barr] will be much reviled, but I think it is a great conversation starter and I love adding comedy and comedians to shake up movie-star blandery.

G is finally getting excited about the baby and decided to name her tonight. We had been thinking Daisy, but G was adamant. "Let's call her Isabel," he said. It felt unfamiliar until I said it aloud. Isabel Evans. I love the two together. And suddenly felt I knew who she is, serious and calm and clever and sweet.

Saturday, Dec. 1, 1990

Gail Sheehy came over to talk about a new piece she wants to write about menopause. Two women at opposite ends of the fertility spectrum confronting each other over a cup of tea.

It was nice to talk stories after six weeks of cotton-head. We sat in the living room while I nursed Izzy and she laid the piece out. I love the idea of tackling menopause. Women always feel they have to hide it, or treat it like some secret disease instead of part of a natural cycle.

And then when we're through it, we're made to feel discarded and reduced. Gail said, on the contrary, she wants to write about the incredible "postmenopausal rush" when women are at their most confident and productive. Yippee. I can't wait.

Must be so liberating to be done with the need to be attractive and focus instead on fulfilment and power. I can't wait to be a grand old trout making influential decisions. I told Gail, absolutely, do it. Let's call it "The Secret Passage," referencing back to her old bestseller, Passages, and amplifying the taboo angle.

Hollywood people are unbelievable. Jeffrey Katzenberg called me up a week ago and asked if I would do a screening for his new movie Green Card with Gérard Depardieu. I told him I just had a baby and was on leave. He totally ignored me and told me I must do this for him because I owed him. (For what?) It's a great movie, he insisted, that's what friends are for, etc. I should have told him to take a hike, then of course succumbed. But I really didn't feel ready for it, like a deepsea diver as I swam around the faces I didn't want to see, with baby-head making me forgetful and vague. I had forgotten how terrifyingly tough NYC is, what an hourly battering it is to stay on top. I was in such a sensitive mood that I felt I had gone out stark naked.

It was the first time I have faced people since I put Roseanne Barr on the mag's cover, which has, as expected, been universally reviled.

Nick Dunne said he has been aggressed about it everywhere he's been, with "Trust me, she's gone too far this time" as the most common response. Still, they are all still reading it. And our Tatler motto of "the magazine that bites the hand that reads you" is still my mantra.

Friday, March 22, 1991

Sonesta Spa, Fort Lauderdale, Fla.

I am brooding how I can make a definitive editorial statement that will distance us from the eighties. A new adrenaline shot. Without explicitly saying so we need to make a turn that's decisive or we will be defined by the passé Reagan era of glitz and Park Avenue. The nineties is about divestment. About shedding old social structures and pretences.

There's a lust for a reckoning, too, after all the Wall Street malfeasance.

We need to get deeper, darker, more expansive while keeping the joy factor. I am looking for a cover that will do that and have talked about it a lot with Annie [Leibovitz].

Harry's Random House job has added a whole lot of turmoil to our domestic lives. (Turmoil he adores, I have to say.) I forgot it would mean there is a book launch every night that he has to go to, even if I refuse.

He did finally, after two more meetings, corral Brando's memoir. There was a brief crisis last week when Marlon connected that he was married to me and nearly pulled out.

"And now comes a large cloud of black crows," he wheezed down the phone to Harry from L.A. "Your wife, I learn, is Tina Brown." But Harry performed the feat of somehow distancing himself from his wife of 10 years and the deal was signed for a mighty $5-million.

Tuesday, July 23, 1991

When photographer Annie and I first discussed doing a Demi Moore cover for the August issue, I thought how great it would be to show her pregnant instead of doing the normal thing with stars who are over three months gone and cheat the cover with a head shot or some other disguise. But being Annie, she went one better. She did Demi in profile, yes, full body, yes, but also ... naked! She unveiled it after first showing me the shots of Demi in brief summer dress, explaining she had just done these others privately.

But as soon as I saw that warm, golden image of the utterly naked, enormously pregnant, totally glorious Demi, I knew this was the shot we had to have. I felt retrospectively liberated from a long 1990 trying to hide the expanding Izzy, the vicarious shout of joy of showing Demi's bump to the world. Women need this, dammit! Annie was the persuasive genius who got on the phone and got Demi to agree to make this private picture public. But kudos to Demi too for her bravery and willingness to go out on the edge.

We have wanted so much to do a story that moved Vanity Fair decisively on from the eighties, that made a statement of modernity, progressiveness, freshness, openness, after the heavy Trumpy glitz of that decade. I have been beating my brains out looking for the social commentary that would achieve it.

And now, in one simple, dazzling image, Annie has the home run.

This is it. This is what a celebrity looks like in the nineties. Not just natural but au naturel! And it's a wonderful feminist statement at the same time.

Now I was afraid I would be stopped from doing it by the circulation department, after Walmart went batshit with the Roseanne Barr cover. So I took the precaution of showing first Alex [legendary Condé Nast editorial director Alexander Liberman], then Si. Alex just looked quizzical and said, "Are you sure, my dear?" and shrugged. And Si [recently deceased S.I. Newhouse Jr., owner of Condé Nast Publications] did his pensive gerbil face and finally said, "Why not?" This cover has immediately gone into the stratosphere. I expected some buzz, but not what is unfolding - a media orgy that uses the cover on TV eight straight nights in a row - every network news show, Primetime Live, Entertainment Tonight, Good Morning America, plus Annie as Woman of the Week with Peter Jennings on ABC and umpteen references to it by Johnny Carson, Arsenio Hall, David Brinkley, and on and on. The shrink-wrap stunt makes it hotter. It seems we have broken the last visual taboo. And the perfection of it was that it was an unassailable platform for controversy. Who's ever managed to shock with family values before?

Friday, Aug. 16, 1991

We christened Izzy last weekend on one of the nicest days we could have dreamed of, at the Church of the Atonement, Quogue's little clapboard church, as we did for G. It was a glorious day. We had all the friends over for a buffet lunch on the porch and a local band playing at the entrance. Izzy looked so adorable in her frothy little dress, with those huge eyes in her china-doll face. She loved being swooped up and down by all the guests, grabbed the rector's cross from around his neck, and chomped on it happily. She has all Harry's power-packed energy and his equable temperament. Nothing fazes her as she moves from one passionate absorption to the next.

How lucky I am.

Tuesday, Sept. 24, 1991 Si hasn't been in the Four Seasons for 10 days. When Si is not in the Four Seasons it means something is up. He's hiring someone big or buying something. But whom or what?

And will it affect me? In a moment of paranoia I thought he could be buying Rolling Stone as he has long wanted to do and making Jann Wenner editorial director as part of the package. So what's cooking in the hamster cage?

The reaction to Demi Moore doesn't stop. Letters pour in from ecstatic women every day. We've sold 548,058 copies on the newsstand (an 82 per cent increase on July newsstand sales), giving us a total sale of 1,127,521. It's phenomenal. I feel a moment coming. Should I, after tea and cakes and ices, have the strength to force the moment to its crisis?

Someone is going to make a major play. But what is it to be?

Tuesday, Dec. 10, 1991

Marie Brenner called to tell me an extraordinary incident that took place last night at the NYC Parks black-tie gala at Tavern on the Green after the opening of the Streisand movie The Prince of Tides. She was sitting demurely in her black dinner suit at the parks commissioner Betsy Gotbaum's table when she felt something cold and wet running down her back. Out of the corner of her eye she saw waiters with trays of wine moving around and assumed one of them had spilled the vino.

Unwilling to embarrass the waiter, she didn't turn around. Until the other guests at the table started pointing and yelping, "Oh my God! Look what he just did!" The "he" in question was Donald Trump! She saw his familiar Elvis coif making off across the Crystal Room. The sneaky, petulant infant was clearly still stewing about her takedown in VF over a year ago and had taken a glass of wine from the tray and emptied it down her back! What a coward! He couldn't even confront her to her face! Marie was as outraged as she was incredulous but chose to ignore it. Everyone knows he's going broke and he spent most of the evening canoodling with his pouty blow-up doll, Marla Maples.

Thursday Jan. 23, 1992

This morning Si called me upstairs and sat me down next to him in the chair near his desk. "How much do you read ... The New Yorker?" A long pause. "Not much lately," I said.

A longer pause. It felt endless. Had I just disqualified myself? He behaved as if I said the opposite. "How would you go about it?"

Brown became The New Yorker's editor-in-chief, which she ran for six years, and subsequently launched Talk and The Daily Beast. In 2007 she was inducted into the Magazine Editors' Hall of Fame.

Excerpted from The Vanity Fair Diaries: 1983-1992 by Tina Brown, published this month by Henry Holt and Company. Copyright © 2017 by Tina Brown. All rights reserved.

Associated Graphic

Harold Evans and Tina Brown attend a fundraiser in September, 1989, at the Plaza Hotel in New York.


Tina Brown and S. I. Newhouse Jr. attend a party in New York in August, 1990. Newhouse, who died on Oct. 1, was the owner of Condé Nast Publications.


The August, 1991, cover of Vanity Fair, an Annie Leibovitz photo of pregnant Demi Moore, caused a 'media orgy,' Tina Brown writes.

Tuesday, November 21, 2017

A military intervention this week signaled the end of Robert Mugabe's 37-year rule of Zimbabwe. Geoffrey York reports from the streets of Harare on why it happened and whether the change will usher in a new era of hope
Saturday, November 18, 2017 – Print Edition, Page F1

In the end, it was the human weaknesses that proved the undoing of the world's oldest dictator. Arrogance, pride, stubbornness and obsessive family loyalty - a mundane collection of ordinary frailties, but they were enough to bring down a ruler who had dominated Zimbabwe for 37 years.

The signs of a looming military coup must have been obvious to Robert Mugabe. His top generals were against his plan to give a senior government post to his unpopular wife, Grace.

The once-petty feud between her and the commanders was growing increasingly bitter, and she was insulting and mocking the military men and their political allies.

Mr. Mugabe controlled a vast security apparatus, including a secret police agency that would have certainly told him of the warning signs from the army.

Yet he didn't even need an intelligence report. By early this week, the likelihood of a military intervention was a secret to nobody.

Senior military officers called a press conference, issued a public threat to the Mugabe regime, and announced that they might need to step in. The ruling party responded with nothing more than a haughty verbal reprimand.

Two days later, the army commanders launched their takeover. But even when the armoured vehicles were rolling into Harare, the President did nothing.

Why did the dictator fail to act? At the age of 93, while his health was declining and he needed help to walk to a podium, he was still alert and lucid. But he ignored the alarm bells from the Zimbabwean military and the Zimbabwean people. He was convinced of his popularity, believing in the results of rigged elections, without realizing that his authority was hollow and crumbling.

Zimbabweans who have watched him for decades have little doubt that it was Mr. Mugabe's own imperious egotism that led to his downfall. He saw the danger signs, yet his supreme confidence led him to assume that he could swat away the threats with yet another sacking or another arrest.

"Big people tend to over-reach, and he overreached himself," says Earnest Mudzengi, a political analyst in Harare.

"His system had collapsed around him. Surely he should have known. It's a sad end for him. He led a guerrilla warfare in the 1970s, the people looked up to him - and now they're chasing him away."

Tendai Biti, a former finance minister who worked with Mr. Mugabe in government from 2009 to 2013, says the autocrat was destroyed by his own pride. "Hubristic arrogance," he told The Globe and Mail. "He was in power so long. He became so comfortable, complacent and over-confident. He's stubborn, and he forgot the nature of the state around him. This is a military state, a state of securocrats. He for9 got that he was just a representative of a securocratic state, and it will always dump you if you don't serve it. So they fired him."

For decades, Mr. Mugabe had shrewdly balanced the factions around him. He kept his enemies close. He used selective repression to weaken any camp that became too strong. Nobody was allowed to become the heir apparent.

But in recent years this strategy became cruder, less cautious and more impulsive. He decided that Ms. Mugabe must have her future guaranteed, and the only way to safeguard her ambitions was to give her a powerful government post: vicepresident or perhaps even the coveted role of his official successor.

And to do that, he disrupted the delicate balance around him. After relying on military support for nearly four decades, he suddenly began to threaten the senior military officers, and they responded in a predictable way: by plotting against him.

For most of their marriage, Grace Mugabe had stayed out of politics.

More than 40 years younger than her husband, she was content to go on shopping sprees in Paris and Hong Kong, running several private businesses and enjoying the perks and wealth that flowed from her husband's power.

But everything changed after the 2013 election. It was blatantly rigged.

The main opposition party, which had held a number of cabinet posts in a coalition government for the previous four years, was thrown into the political wilderness. With the regime's power now assured, the biggest remaining political question was the post-Mugabe succession within the ruling party itself.

In 2014, as Mr. Mugabe's health deteriorated, the jostling and political tensions were becoming more visible. It became clear to Ms. Mugabe that she could lose everything if her husband died. She needed to secure her future. She felt the resentment of the older generation of politicians who gained their authority because they were veterans of the liberation war against white minority rule in the 1970s. If this veteran generation controlled the post-Mugabe succession, she could be stripped of her wealth and forced into exile.

Ms. Mugabe, leaping into the political arena, decided to ally herself with a younger generation of politicians, who became known as the G40 faction (Generation 40). Among them were several ambitious cabinet ministers who sought to bypass the war veterans and gain power after Mr. Mugabe's demise.

Grace Mugabe's first major move was to launch a nasty verbal campaign against Vice-President Joice Mujuru, a respected war veteran. Ms. Mugabe held a series of political rallies, whipping up hatred against Ms. Mujuru. It was a successful campaign: the Vice-President was fired at the end of 2014.

Ms. Mujuru was replaced by another war veteran, Emmerson Mnangagwa, who had been a crucial ally of Mr. Mugabe since the guerrilla war of the 1970s. As the security minister in the Mugabe cabinet, he led a bloody crackdown on dissidents in the Matabeleland region in the 1980s, and continued to play a key role in supporting Mr. Mugabe in other crises, including the 2008 election when the ruling party was on the verge of losing power.

It was obvious to Ms. Mugabe that Mr. Mnangagwa posed a serious threat to her ambitions. She turned against him, spearheading another furious campaign of political rallies and crude insults. "The snake must be hit on the head," she declared.

She also attacked his military allies - including the army commander, General Constantino Chiwenga, another liberation war veteran.

There were growing reports that Mr. Mugabe would conduct a sweeping purge of the highest levels of the military ranks to ensure that the army was neutralized.

The factional conflict, by now, was becoming so intense that Ms. Mugabe heard scattered jeers from Mr. Mnangagwa's supporters at one of her rallies. She ramped up the pressure on her husband to take action against her foes. The ruling party announced a special congress for December, where Ms. Mugabe and her supporters could be appointed to key positions.

On Nov. 6, the President fired Mr. Mnangagwa for "disloyalty, disrespect, deceitfulness and unreliability." But in a crucial error, Mr. Mugabe's police and security agents failed to prevent Mr. Mnangagwa from slipping out of the country, where he was able to mobilize support and issue a taunting statement.

General Chiwenga, meanwhile, was on an official visit to China.

When he returned to Zimbabwe last weekend, there was reportedly an attempt to arrest him - but he had arranged to protect himself with a military unit at the airport, and the police were unable to seize him.

On Monday, he made an extraordinary appearance before the television cameras, backed up by almost every senior military commander in the country. It was a remarkable moment: the top military chief was publicly criticizing the Mugabe government in harsh and bitter words, while openly threatening that the military could intervene.

With hindsight, his words were a clear guide to the army's plans to target Ms. Mugabe and the G40 faction - yet Mr. Mugabe failed to take any steps to halt him.

While he did not name Ms. Mugabe or her G40 allies, General Chiwenga was unmistakably referring to them. He painted them as a generation too young to have legitimacy in Zimbabwe. "The history of our revolution cannot be rewritten by those who have not been part of it," he said.

"It is saddening to see our revolution being hijacked.... We must remind those behind the current treacherous shenanigans that when it comes to matters of protecting our revolution, the military will not hesitate to step in."

Mr. Mugabe ruling party, ZANUPF, issued a brief statement to denounce General Chiwenga's comments, but its rebuke was brushed aside. Two days after the commander's warning, the military did exactly what it said it would do.

Armoured vehicles rumbled out of a military base and rolled into Harare, taking control of all key sites. Mr. Mugabe was placed under military guard in his home, permitted to leave only under military escort. Several leading members of the G40 faction, including several cabinet ministers, were arrested and taken to military barracks.

As for Ms. Mugabe herself: She vanished from public view, her whereabouts unknown, although some reports suggested that she was holed up in the presidential residence.

While the details of Mr. Mugabe's exit were still being negotiated on Friday, it was the end of the Mugabe era.

There was a time in Zimbabwe when Robert Mugabe was popular. As the leader of the main guerrilla movement that had fought white-minority rule, he swept to power in a landslide victory in the 1980 election. He outmanoeuvred every other politician, eliminating every threat from rival guerrilla leaders such as Joshua Nkomo.

But his economic mismanagement - seizing farmland, imposing state controls, fuelling inflation, destroying the industrial sector - led to widespread poverty and unemployment, which in turn eroded his popularity. Hyperinflation erupted in 2008, and the national GDP collapsed. Only a military crackdown saved him from a looming defeat in the 2008 election.

After a brief recovery under the coalition government from 2009 to 2013, the economy fell into decline again. Sporadic cash shortages and commodity shortages led to panic buying and rising economic anxieties.

In 1980, when Mr. Mugabe won his first election, Zimbabwe's economy was twice as large as that of neighbouring Zambia, and its average incomes were higher than those in most countries in southern Africa.

Today its economy is smaller than Zambia's, and its life expectancy is lower than it was in 1980.

Last Monday, in his pre-coup statement, General Chiwenga cited the deteriorating economy as one of the main reasons for his potential intervention. He made it clear that the economy has tumbled into decline since the end of the coalition government in 2013.

"As a result of squabbling within the ranks of ZANU-PF, there has been no meaningful development in the country for the past five years," he said. "The resultant economic impasse has ushered in more challenges to the Zimbabwean populace, such as cash shortages and rising commodity prices."

It is the battered economy, more than anything else, that has created public support for the military coup.

Zimbabweans are not enthusiastic supporters of the army, especially after its human-rights abuses in the past, but the army's promises have provided a glimmer of hope. So when the military seized power and put Mr. Mugabe under house arrest, there was no outpouring of support for the elderly leader. Nobody bothered to defend him.

"People have been heartily sick of Mugabe for a long time, and Grace has done him no favours with her rude behaviour," said David Moore, a Canadian scholar and Zimbabwe expert at the University of Johannesburg.

Interviews in Harare confirm that the coup was widely supported.

Tinaye Gomo, who scrounges a meagre living by selling pirated music discs on the streets of Harare, was quick to welcome the intervention. "Things were very bad," he said this week, a day after the military intervention. "There is nothing at home, so I have to work very late at night. But now things are getting better. We're very happy."

Vivid Gwede, an independent political analyst and human rights activist in Harare, says the Zimbabwean people felt a yearning for any kind of new regime after so many years of Mugabe rule. "People are desperate for change," he says.

"For a lot of people here, any kind of change is a good thing. For 37 years, they've been under one leader whose rule was dictatorial, and they've suffered a lot of economic victimization. Elections haven't worked, demonstrations are violently suppressed, and people feel under siege."

Mr. Mugabe's own blunders led to his fall, Mr. Gwede says. "When someone is in power for 37 years, there is the myth of invincibility.

And Mugabe himself believed it. He forgot that his rule was based on the security agencies, not the popular will. He showed arrogance, and the military decided that enough was enough. He was aware that something was afoot, but he couldn't stop it."

One of his biggest blunders was to allow his politically inexperienced wife to share his power. "She has an inflated sense of superiority, but she lacks the emotional intelligence to know that you shouldn't insult people in public," Mr. Gwede says. "She seems to revel in the limelight."

Ms. Mugabe and the G40 faction made another political error by pushing for a swift entrenchment of their power at the special ZANU-PF conference next month.

"I think G40 tried to move too fast to get their slate set for the December conference," Mr. Moore says.

"They figured they'd have to work fast to get their slate in, but their hubris made them move too fast, and they underestimated the savvy of their enemy. And they have no guns. Without guns they had no chance."

In the end, Mr. Mugabe became a victim of his own willingness to encourage the military to intervene in political issues - a pattern that continued from the army massacres in Matabeleland in the 1980s to the blatant military interference in the 2008 election. "He promoted military intervention in civilian affairs, and this was a direct result of that," Mr. Gwede says. "His grip on the army began loosening last year, and then he complained of military intervention in the political succession battle."

The military coup was carefully planned and shrewdly organized, with a minimum of disruption. Mr. Biti, the former finance minister, says the army commanders avoided the three biggest mistakes of most coups: they did not inflict great bloodshed, they did not disrupt the lives of ordinary people, and they did not wreak revenge on their enemies.

As a result, they have retained a significant amount of public support, and they still have a chance to gain legitimacy for their intervention by persuading ZANU-PF to drop Mr. Mugabe as the party's leader - allowing the military to maintain the fiction that this was not a coup.

"The army wants a soft landing for Robert Mugabe, because they respect him," Mr. Mudzengi says.

"They are the same guys as him. He made those guys, and they made him."

Mr. Mugabe, true to his character, stubbornly refused to resign when the generals took over. But the military has continued to play the game shrewdly, allowing him to keep his dignity. On Thursday, it permitted him to be photographed at a negotiating session with mediators and military leaders at State House, his presidential headquarters. On Friday, it even allowed him to supervise a university graduation ceremony.

This strategy might avoid bloodshed and pave the way for a peaceful transition to a new government - but it does nothing to restore democracy in a country where autocrats have long ruled.

"A family had captured the state, and now a junta is capturing the state," Mr. Gwede said. "It doesn't change the fundamentals. We're still under a militarized and undemocratic system that doesn't respect human rights. We're seeing how the military has become such a powerful force in our politics. It's hard to see who can run the country in the future without the army, and that's not what we want as human rights defenders and democrats."

He wonders if the military will allow any criticism of the next president - whether it is Mr. Mnangagwa or someone else. "It's as if the military are the commissars of the ruling party. They're not acting as a national army - they are acting as a partisan party. And that's dangerous."

Geoffrey York is The Globe and Mail's Africa correspondent

Associated Graphic

Mr. Mugabe was an iconic figure to many Zimbabweans. 'The people looked up to him,' said one political analyst, 'and now they're chasing him away.'


Despite a visible presence in the streets of Harare, the military denied staging a coup.


Mr. Mugabe began his tenure as an admirable force against white minority rule in the 1970s but was less revered in recent years.


Zimbabweans, grateful to see an end of decades of autocratic rule, still face an uncertain future.


Military leaders announced an intervention, broadcasting on the Zimbabwe Broadcasting Corporation.


Fencing in the U.S.-Mexico border
The number of illegal immigrants is set to fall to historic lows this year, but the death of a Border Patrol agent this week has renewed calls for Trump's 'big, beautiful wall.' Is that the best plan for the country or is there another way to deal with border security in America?
Tuesday, November 21, 2017 – Print Edition, Page A8

SAN DIEGO -- U.S. Border Patrol agent Saul Rocha navigates his Ford Explorer down a wide dirt road between two layers of fence that separate San Diego from Tijuana, Mexico. He points to patched holes in the steel wire mesh every few kilometres cut by illegal bordercrossers using power saws, and a discarded homemade wire ladder curled at the base of the fence.

"They make them at home, they roll it up, they come, they jump the fence," he says of the ladders, which agents still regularly find scattered around the border.

Nine years ago, agents installed giant coils of barbed wire atop some stretches of fence to stop people from climbing over. But migrants quickly adapted by adding carpets and rope to their ladders to avoid the sharp barbs.

Yet patched holes and homemade ladders are among the few remaining obvious signs of illegal activity along this 106-kilometre stretch of the southwestern California border.

What was once a place where hundreds of thousands of Mexican immigrants rushed past a chain-link fence from Tijuana every year, is now a bustling but orderly commercial neighbourhood.

The number of people caught crossing the San Diego border peaked in the mid-1980s. Back then, Border Patrol agents were catching 1,700 people a day. Today, as illegal immigration across the United States has plunged to 40-year lows, they are on track to average 77.

Driving past strip malls blasting Spanish-language radio, sprawling outlet stores selling Armani and Kate Spade, and massive shipping warehouses that surround San Diego's two border crossings - among the busiest in the world - the scene is of an orderly commercial and retail neighbourhood, much like those that dot the U.S.-Canadian border.

That is, until, Mr. Rocha pulls his vehicle in front of what we have come to see: eight sections of wall, nine metres tall, half of them constructed of concrete, the other half made of metal, and all towering higher than any barrier has ever been built along the United States border.

U.S. President Donald Trump made the promise of a "big, beautiful wall" with Mexico the centrepiece of his election campaign, reopening the bitter divide over the United States' relationship with its neighbour to the south. "We will, and must, build the Wall!" Mr. Trump tweeted Monday after a Border Patrol agent was killed and another wounded in a remote stretch of the Texas border.

By now, however, few people seem to expect a continuous wall with Mexico given the many billions it would take to construct such a barrier over terrain that includes towering cliffs, deep canyons and rivers. But the massive prototypes unveiled here late last month, standing sentinel over the most populated region of the U.S.-Mexico border, mark the latest chapter in a dramatic buildup of U.S. border security.

In the 30 years since the United States began building barriers along its 3,100-kilometre border with Mexico, the borderlands have served as the front-line defence against the war on drugs, and later the war on terror. More recently, border security has become the United States' de facto immigration policy. Fears of a porous border have consistently derailed most bipartisan attempts at significant immigration reform even as the Border Patrol's budget has grown 10 times since 1993. In that time, the number of agents has grown 500 per cent and the United States has built nearly 1,100-kilometres of fencing.

Meanwhile, the number of people caught crossing the U.S. border from Mexico has plunged to levels not seen since the early 1970s. By most estimates, the undocumented population in the United States is actually shrinking as more Mexicans return home and fewer arrive.

Yet even as the United States has poured tens of billions of dollars into remaking its border with Mexico - and its current President is pushing to add billions more - Americans are no closer to feeling that their borders are secure.

"It's a mind over matter thing," said Doris Meissner, who served as Commissioner of the U.S. Immigration and Naturalization Service during the Clinton administration and is now a senior fellow at the Migration Policy Institute, an independent think tank. "So much of what immigration is about and so much of what the political pressure is about is not fact based, it's really emotional."

The first fencing went up along San Diego's Imperial Beach in 1990. That year, Border Patrol agents began welding 180,000 corrugated steel panels, three-metre-tall airstrip landing mats dating back to the Vietnam War that the agency got for free from the military, into 22-kilometres of fencing.

Agents in San Diego hoped the barrier would help them get a handle on what was then the main gateway for more than half of all the migrants trying to reach the United States. "We would go in right at dusk and you would just see thousands of people just waiting for it to get dark," said Michael Fisher, who retired as head of the U.S. Border Patrol in 2015. "As soon as somebody blew the whistle, thousands of people would just start running across the border." A 1993 study recommended the United States put up three layers of fencing along 145 kilometres of the border and expand highway checkpoints in more remote locations.

But partly because of concerns over angering Mexico ahead of the launch of the North American freetrade agreement, little of the fencing was built.

Instead, the government focused its resources on San Diego and El Paso, Tex. - where the vast majority of immigrants tried to cross the border illegally. They built fences, added new border agents and placed as many guards as they could as close to the border as possible.

Rather than concentrating on catching those who were already in the country, the prevailing border strategy in the 1980s, the show of force was meant to deter people from crossing in the first place. By targeting busy urban areas such as San Diego and Tijuana, collectively home to close to six million people, the government hoped to shift illegal crossings to more remote locations east of San Diego, where they would be easier to spot.

Over the next six years, apprehensions plunged in San Diego and El Paso. But they soared in the region around Tucson, reaching more than 600,000 by 2000, more than eight times what they had been just six years earlier. Border agents considered the idea of pushing people away from the city to rural locations to be a sign of success. But they were still overwhelmed by the number of migrants who opted to brave the punishing heat of Arizona's Sonoran Desert where summer temperatures can climb as high as 50 C.

"The cartels are always going to go where they make the most profit," said Eduardo Olmos, a Border Patrol agent in San Diego. "So if we have a lot of success here, they will move somewhere else."

As illegal migration soared in Arizona, so too did the number of people who died trying to cross the border. Migrant deaths skyrocketed from 72 in 1994 to 482 in 2005, most from exposure or drowning in the waters of the Rio Grande. Last year, an estimated 326 migrants died trying to cross the border, according to the International Organization for Migration, the United Nations' migration agency.

After the Sept. 11, 2001, terrorist attacks, border security took on a new focus. Suddenly the major threat at the Mexican border wasn't drugs, or undocumented workers, it was terrorists.

The 2006 Secure Fence Act added more than 9,000 new border agents and mandated at least 1,100-kilometres of reinforced fencing along the border in a bid to plug holes where terrorists could slip through.

The number was derived partly from what border officials were asking for, but also from politicians who were looking for something to take back to their constituents heading into midterm elections.

"It was ultimately a political negotiation," Ms. Meissner said. "It did arise out of Border Patrol experience that this was about what they thought they needed. But it was also about what Congress thought it could do as a way of creating political cover for itself."

As of today, the border is nearly 68 kilometres shy of the 1,100 kilometres requirement, and roughly half of that is fencing made up of 1.5-metre-tall steel rails meant to stop vehicles, but not pedestrians.

How well the soaring investment in border security - particularly in fences - worked to prevent illegal immigration remains a fierce political debate.

Border Patrol officials are keen to emphasize that fences are just one element of border security and were never intended to completely seal the border, but rather to slow down crossers and make them easier to catch.

Still, it's clear that walls have worked in some areas. One 2011 study by the Department of Homeland Security found that apprehensions dropped 75 per cent in areas with fencing.

"When people say that fences don't work, they actually do," Mr.

Fisher said. "When you're dealing with thousands and thousands of people trying to enter an open area, it slows them down."

Even so, he predicts that fewer than 160 kilometres of new fencing along the border will be built as the nine-metre wall championed by Mr. Trump. Instead, Mr. Fisher believes border security will increasingly rely on technology, such as fibre-optic cables buried in the ground along the border. Such technology, which has been used to help monitor oil pipelines, can act as an early warning system for border agents and costs a fraction of what has been tried in the past.

"The vast majority of the border with Mexico and Canada at some point is going to be technology," he said.

The U.S. government could go a long way toward improving border security just by completing the 1,100 kilometres of fencing proposed in the Secure Fence Act, said Ronald Colburn, a former national deputy Border Patrol chief. "Many of the things that were started nine or 10 years ago just need to be completed. That would help a lot."

Others say the buildup of fencing and manpower along the border has done little except to change where and how migrants cross the border and discouraged them from trying to go home again.

While the likelihood that someone would get caught crossing the border jumped as the United States has added more fences and border agents, virtually all of those who want to cross into the United States are ultimately successful, even if they have to try multiple times, said Princeton University professor Douglas Massey, who co-directs a project that surveys Mexican migrants.

Paid guides have turned to dangerous methods to smuggle people and drugs around the fencing, such as tunnels and ultralight aircraft, often used to deliver drugs. A rising number of illegal immigrants are showing up at official border entries with fake documents, or arriving by water.

"They'll try with jet skis, swimming, surfboards, boats," says Mr. Olmos the border agent in San Diego, where the border with Mexico stretches to the Pacific Ocean.

Academics who study Mexican migration say the steady buildup of manpower and fences along the border has little to do with the dramatic decline in people trying to cross the border illegally.

Combined, the number caught crossing illegally and estimates of those who successfully slipped into the United States have dropped from nearly 3.4 million in 2000 to fewer than 600,000 today. The Pew Research Center estimates the total undocumented population fell by roughly 1.4 million between 2007 and 2016 as more Mexicans returned home to the United States than arrived illegally.

Instead, researchers point to an array of economic and demographic factors that likely caused the drop.

The bursting of the housing bubble in 2008 hit immigrant-heavy industries, such as construction, especially hard. Since the financial crisis, Mexicans have opted to migrate to large cities within Mexico instead, said Wayne Cornelius, professor emeritus at the University of California, San Diego, and an expert in cross-border migration.

"They seem to have had a positive experience, and with migration to a nearby city available to meet their economic needs, why spend thousands of dollars on a smuggler and run the physical risks of clandestine entry."

Those who are immigrating to the United States are doing so legally - the number who are in the United States on work visas has increased nearly five times in the past 20 years.

But the most significant factor behind falling illegal migration is Mexico's aging population. Fertility rates have declined dramatically since the 1970s, putting Mexico's population growth closely in line with the United States and other Western economies. Huge migration waves through the 1970s, 80s and 90s have emptied out communities that historically sent many residents to the United States for work, leaving a smaller pool of workingage men in Mexico to send abroad than in previous years.

As Mexican migration has fallen that has changed who is crossing the border, with significant implications for U.S. immigration policy.

In 2014, and again in 2016, Mexican migrants represented fewer than half of those caught at the border, outstripped by a surge of migrants fleeing gang violence in El Salvador, Honduras and Guatemala.

Many of those have been families and unaccompanied children who have crossed the Rio Grande into southeast Texas, which has become the new frontier of illegal immigration to the United States.

Most come to seek asylum and turn themselves into border agents.

The kind of quick-deportation procedures that are now the dominant policy along the U.S.-Mexico border typically don't apply to unaccompanied children and migrants with credible asylum claims, who are allowed to stay in the United States until their cases can be heard by an immigration judge.

"If you were really looking at the border holistically, from a broad policy perspective, the investment would not be going into 30-foot fences," Ms. Meissner said. "It would be going into immigration judges, immigration asylum officers, into efforts in Central America to stanch the smuggling of young people from that part of the world and obviously into supporting those governments to create more citizen security."

In the end, it may not matter what, if any, of Mr. Trump's vision for a wall with Mexico eventually materializes.

Apprehensions along the U.S.Mexico border fell 30 per cent between Mr. Trump's inauguration in January and August, the most recent monthly figures, and appear to be on track to fall to new lows this year. Some border-wall advocates point out that Mr. Trump's antiimmigrant rhetoric alone may prove to be enough of a deterrent, though Prof. Cornelius says that argument ignores the long-term migration trends.

It's possible that Congress may hammer out a deal to fund at least some new fencing in exchange for legislative action to restore protections for recipients of the Deferred Action for Childhood Arrivals, the program that gave work permits to thousands of undocumented immigrants brought to the United States as children, which Mr. Trump announced he would rescind.

And with illegal migration on track to fall to historic new lows this year, a political compromise that includes some more funding for the border - if not for a 3,100kilometre wall - may just be enough for Mr. Trump to say he's kept his election promise, Ms. Meissner said. "Given the trends we're talking about, it gives the new administration the perfect formula for declaring victory and walking away from this whole project."

Others expect the disagreement over the border to continue to rage regardless of what gets built over the next three years. "Unfortunately without common sense being part of the equation, the political debate will again be part of the 2020 presidential elections," said Silvestre Reyes, a former Border Patrol chief in El Paso who served 16 years as a congressman and previously chaired the House intelligence committee. "Unfortunately, we just don't have the willingness to come to the table and realistically talk about a solution."

Associated Graphic

Eight prototypes of a new border wall sit on the United States side of an existing border wall with Mexico in Otay Mesa, Calif., near San Diego, in October. Later this year, the federal government will test the eight samples for strength and effectiveness; they vary considerably in material, shape and cost.


People look at prototype sections of a border wall between Mexico and the United States under construction in Tijuana, Mexico, in October. Competitors building the prototypes hoping to gain approval to build the wall had until the first of November to complete their work.


In his new book, Roy MacGregor documents his travels down 16 Canadian rivers
Saturday, November 18, 2017 – Print Edition, Page R14

The sign at Kitchissippi Point on the Ottawa River seemed particularly apt early last spring.

The message is part of a permanent display to show how once, more than 10,000 years ago, the Ottawa Valley was completely under water. The thawing of the last Ice Age led to the formation of the massive Champlain Sea that formed an inlet for the Atlantic Ocean. The brackish water ran as much as 150 metres higher than the current levels of the St. Lawrence and Ottawa rivers.

And now, on an early May day several millennia later, both rivers were rising dramatically - if not to those levels - as snowmelt and runoff combined with rain, rain, rain, rain ... The rain had fallen for most of a week. On May 1, alone, some areas along the Ottawa River had received 55 millimetres of downpour. Records stretching as far back as 1925 had nothing to compare to it. There was flooding throughout the watershed - cottage property sliding into the swollen Madawaska River at Combermere, basements flooded at Golden Lake, roads and streets closed in communities on both sides of the Ottawa River, two schools closed and a seniors residence evacuated in Maniwaki, far up the Gatineau River, states-of-emergency called in Saint-André-Avellin and Rigaud, homes flooded on Montreal's West Island, and Ile Mercier actually submerged - all with severe weather warnings continuing and another 55 millimetres of rain predicted for the coming weekend. By that point, the military had been called in to help the hardest-hit areas in Quebec. Farther east, along the Saint John River valley, more than 100 millimetres of rain fell over a two-day span. Water, water everywhere indeed.

Monday evening, with the rain still falling, I went to Shirley's Bay, a large, lake-like widening of the Ottawa River some 15 kilometres north of Parliament Hill. The waves were rolling in, slamming into large boulders placed as a semi-breakwater along the boat ramp. With the rainfall and fog, it was impossible to see across the wide bay to the Quebec shore. I felt like I was standing at the edge of an angry ocean rather than this usually placid river. The Champlain Sea returned.

It was a choice moment to reflect on the journeys of the past three years for The Globe and Mail: 16 Canadian rivers studied in detail for their history, people, issues and future, dozens more rivers touched upon in passing either by canoe, vehicle, air or library. A person could do this forever and never finish. Roderick Haig-Brown had it right when he said, "No book could possibly tell the whole story of Canada's rivers." There are more than 8,500 named rivers alone in the country. As a journalist interested in seeing as much as possible of the country I cover, and as a passionate canoeist endlessly intrigued by what lies around that next bend, I had to accept that reality: no book can tell the whole story, no person can journey them all. It was Mole in The Wind in the Willows who believed rivers held "the best stories in the world." True in author Kenneth Grahame's England, true in Canada, true throughout the world.

Standing on the shrinking shoreline of Shirley's Bay, I could only think about how much water there has to be in the atmosphere to permit such a prolonged rain, with even more in the forecasts. Hours away, the Toronto islands were now under threat of flooding.

One of the island ferries was at the ready should an evacuation be ordered. Water, water everywhere - and yet it is rapidly becoming a central issue of the 21st century.

Not because there is so much, because there may be too little.

We often hear that water is the new oil. George W. Bush has said "Water is more valuable than oil." The mayor of Dirt in the animated feature Rango says, "If you control water, you control everything." In Canada, no one has sounded the alarm louder or more consistently than Maude Barlow, chair of the Council of Canadians. She has argued for years that water is not, as so many believe, a totally renewable resource we can never run out of - even if last spring along the Ottawa River it certainly appeared so. If no action is taken on climate change, she and others say, the war refugees of today will seem minor compared to the water refugees of the future. By 2075, Barlow says in her most recent book, Boiling Point, "The water crisis could affect as many as seven-billion people," which is pretty much everybody on the planet.

As for Canada itself, we should not be so smug as to think our supply of renewable fresh water is endless. Canada does have more water than any other nation, but Canada also has multiple rivers - the Bow River and South Saskatchewan River in the Prairies being but two significant examples - under severe threat from over-extraction. Pollution remains a major concern, as well, whether in waters surrounding major cities or in remote areas. In the first six months of 2016, there were more than 130 drinking-water advisories issued in First Nations communities across the country. Data collected by Environment Canada says that in 2015 alone, more than 205 billion litres of raw sewage and untreated waste water was dumped into Canadian oceans and waterways.

Water is unlike oil in that it returns. Oil, once used, is gone forever, its molecular structure changed, its debatable traces gone to the atmosphere. Water, on the other hand, can be cleaned and restored and used again and again and again, whether it be to irrigate, power, drink, wash, flush. ... The water going down your toilet today might soon be going down someone's throat. Nothing is more recyclable than water.

This matter that sustains us, however, is not infinite. Nor, obviously, is it equally spread throughout this planet. Canada might have 20 per cent of earth's freshwater, but other countries are already suffering desperate shortages. Ironically, water has been part of the problem. The world's population soared in no small part because of hygiene and irrigation.

More food meant more people, and healthier humans lived longer. At the turn of the century, the world's population stood around six billion. By 2050, it is estimated that number could reach nine billion, a 50 per cent increase in barely half a century.

Potable water is a valuable commodity, obviously. But one has to wonder about values when Harrod's of London offers a bottle of Svalbardi water - harvested from 4,000-year-old icebergs off the coast of Norway - at £80 ($141.52) a bottle. Bottled water, unknown to previous generations, has today become a huge international industry, worth more than $200-billion a year and recently outstripping sales of soft drinks in North America.

Sadly, the vast majority of sales are to people living with drinking water available for pennies from their taps. Who saw water becoming a fashion accessory? It can be fairly said that Canadians are waking up to the importance of their freshwater blessings.

A 2017 survey by the Royal Bank of Canada found that 45 per cent of Canadians now consider water to be the country's most important natural resource. How this natural resource should be used is, increasingly, a growing issue.

There is a national awakening under way, and this awakening can be found in every part of the country. Earlier this year, Manitoba launched a public awareness campaign called "Spot the Stripes and Stop the Spread" that is intended to encourage the public to take up the fight against zebra mussels and other invasive species. In Ottawa, the member of Parliament for Ottawa South, David McGuinty rose in the House of Commons to introduce a private member's bill calling for the creation of an Ottawa River Watershed Council. The legislation calls for a major study on how the various levels of government could "take the management of the Ottawa River watershed to the next level," and is modelled on such initiatives as the Fraser Basin Council in British Columbia, as well as the Red River Basin Commission that includes both Canadian and American members.

Canadians need to "revamp our thinking when it comes to managing the way we do business and the way we relate to something as essential as a watershed," McGuinty told the Commons. "It is an incredible opportunity for Canada, not just in the context of the Ottawa River watershed but right across the country." McGuinty's cross-river colleague, Bill Amos, representing the Quebec federal riding of Pontiac, stood immediately to support the bill.

A few weeks after the Great Spring Flood of 2017, I took a drive along the Ottawa River to see what the situation was like now that the waters were receding. The damage was obvious - ruined carpets, furniture and appliances at the side of shoreline roads waiting for pickup, empty and filled sandbags piled to the sides of homes, some still guarding the water's edge, a few small places still jacked up in the hopes the owners could somehow escape the damage.

And yet, it wasn't all damage.

Where the river had backed away from property it had briefly claimed, daffodils and tulips were already up. Along the Deschenes and Remic rapids at the western edge of the city, some early kayakers already out dancing toward summer. At Chaudiere Falls close to Parliament Hill, you could not only see but you could feel the power of this amazing river that, within the span of a few weeks, managed to bring such destruction and then such new and welcome life to the region.

The Ottawa River - so important to First Nations, to exploration, to the fur and timber trades - was the closest and first river I wrote about.

The others (Saint John, St. Lawrence, Gatineau, Rideau, Dumoine, Muskoka, Don, Grand, Niagara, Red, North Saskatchewan, Bow, Columbia, Fraser and Mackenzie) showed me how deeply those who live along those rivers treasure them, and worry about what will become of them.

At the end of this long journey through so many, as well as so few, of Canada's rivers, I cannot help but think of Judith Flynn-Bedard who spends much of the year on her boat in the Ottawa River and dreams of a day when her grandchildren can swim in clean water that washes down from the capital.

I hope Wally Schaber gets his beloved Dumoine River declared a protected park so that it can remain that "beautiful, wild, freeflowing river" he so loves. May Floyd Roland see that "green" economy that will mean the communities along the mighty Mackenzie will thrive into the future. Let us all trust that Canada and the United States listen to Bob Sandford, who says that there is a great opportunity to "get this one right" in the renegotiation of the critical Columbia River Treaty. When Lynda Shneekloth, of the University of Buffalo, talks of the necessity of "Rethinking Niagara," it is a philosophy that could be applied to hundreds of rivers in North America that pass through urban and industrial areas.

When Michael Yee, the biologist with the Rideau Valley Conservation Authority, says that "people are more engaged, taking ownership" of their watersheds, he speaks of something needed across the land. Also needed are scientists like Matt Windle, of the St. Lawrence River Institute of Environmental Sciences, who is helping the American eel up and down past the dams. And who ever imagined that the brown trout would one day return to the polluted Grand River in such numbers that Rob Heal could run a successful flyfishing and guiding operation?

When Kevin Van Tighem, once the superintendent of Banff National Park, devotes so much volunteer time to protecting the Bow River watershed, it underscores his belief that "the most important resource in the province, and the rarest, is water." It is a belief shared by people like Arlen Leeming, of the Don Valley Conservation Association, who speaks so surely of "hope" - and finds it in something as small as the return of mink to what was once the most abused and polluted river in Canada.

I think of all the inspirational young people I met - teens like the Gaspe de Beaubien cousins and their AquaHacking conventions, Kingston's Robyn Hamlyn and her campaign against bottled water - but also of older Canadians like Bill Purkis, of Bala, who says he will fight to the end to prevent another dam from rising on the Muskoka River. As Jacques Courcelles put it as he stood along the Red River where now five generations of his family have lived, "Sometimes you have to think beyond your lifetime."

I find that I agree with Gilbert Whiteduck, former chief of the Kitigan Zibi First Nation along Quebec's Gatineau River, that we must continue to fight "complacency." As another native leader, Sonny McHalie, of the Sto:lo First Nation along the Fraser River, put it, "We are the river and the river is us." And more than anything else, I take from the North Saskatchewan River the lessons of Okiysikaw Tyrone Tootoosis and Cree elder Emil Bell. "Water is life," Bell says. "No water, no life - it's that simple."

Excerpted from Original Highways: Travelling the Great Rivers of Canada by Roy MacGregor. Copyright © 2017 Roy MacGregor. Published by Random House Canada, a division of Penguin Random House Canada Limited. Reproduced by arrangement with the publisher. All rights reserved.

Associated Graphic

The Ottawa River rages after passing the dam at the Chaudiere Falls in Ottawa in May, 2017, when the St. Lawrence and Ottawa rivers reached levels unseen in millenniums.


Patrice Pepin walks with his boat down Fournier Street in the flood zone along the Ottawa River in Saint-André-d'Argenteuil, Que., in May, 2017.


Roy MacGregor says that while Canada has more fresh water than any other country in the world, we can't take the valuable resource for granted.


How an unexpected journey to Haida Gwaii reconciled a Nisga'a woman with herself
Cyndi Peal's spur-of-the-moment decision to tag along with the Canada C3 icebreaker led to a tearful 'spiritual voyage' that she won't forget. Roy MacGregor tells her story
Friday, November 17, 2017 – Print Edition, Page A8

Cyndi Peal had no intention of going anywhere.

She was merely standing at the Prince Rupert wharf in early October to watch the docking of the Polar Prince as the C3 Expedition neared the final destination of its 150-day cruise around the three Canadian coastlines.

Her cousin, Hemas Tlalalitla Bill Wilson, an elder of the Kwakwaka'wakw Nation, was on board the refurbished icebreaker and Ms. Peal merely wanted to say hello and catch up on family news.

Mr. Wilson was one of several special guests - writers, musicians, scientists, entrepreneurs, Indigenous leaders - joining the Polar Prince for various legs of the 15-segment voyage celebrating the country's 150th anniversary. As one of the most respected First Nations leaders along the West Coast, the father of Canadian Justice Minister Jody Wilson-Raybould had been an obvious choice for the organizers to invite along on the first segment to reach B.C. waters.

Ms. Peal never would have expected an invitation. The 45-year-old member of the Nisga'a Nation works part-time as a deckhand on a small fishing boat she operates out of Bella Bella with her fiancé, Herman White of the Heiltsuk Nation. "I'm not a big shot," she says. "I'm not a spokesperson." She had enough trouble getting her partner of six years, her two daughters, son and four grandchildren to listen.

But she got talking to some of the participants and they told her they'd be visiting Haida Gwaii in the days to come. She mentioned that all her life she had wanted to see the majestic totem poles of the famous islands.

"How soon can you be packed?" she was asked.

It was, for expedition leader Geoff Green, a fortuitous encounter. A previously invited Indigenous leader had just cancelled. Cyndi Peal might not be well known, but she had knowledge of the B.C. coast as a second-year student in the province's Coastal Stewardship Technician Program. She also has, he quickly noted, "this amazing spirit."

Ms. Peal decided on the spur of the moment to go. She had less than a day to pack and make arrangements. "I'm smart," she thought, "I'm fun and I like boats. I like travelling and meeting new people and trying new things. So yes, I'll go."

She thought she was sailing to Haida Gwaii.

She was really about to take the internal voyage of her life.

Ms. Peal is fiercely proud of her aboriginal heritage, but also acutely aware of realities. Her parents, Ron Peal and the late Elaine Price, met at residential school in Edmonton, hundreds of miles from their West Coast homes and families. Ms. Peal attended regular school on Vancouver Island and in Vancouver, but was bullied and discriminated against.

She sought refuge in sports, where she excelled in track and field and swimming.

From the outset, reconciliation had been a stated goal of the C3 Expedition. Ms. Peal admitted to having "mixed feelings" about such a do-good mission.

"I hold anger, confusion, hurt, sadness, frustration," she says. "I also hold a great deal of pride in being part of a next generation. I am glad we have such strong survivors."

Living in Prince Rupert means living next door to Highway 16, the notorious "Highway of Tears," a place where multiple - no exact number is known - Indigenous women have joined the chilling list of murdered and missing women.

Ms. Peal is close to families directly affected by the loss of a mother, sister, aunt, cousin. She will only go out at night in company of someone she trusts. When walking, she carries her mobile phone as if it has been drawn from a holster.

One evening on this trip, she and another participant with an Indigenous background, Kalie Ulriksen, would conduct a vigil on the ship in memory of the lost women.

Ms. Peal is also acutely aware of the historical tensions in B.C. between the First Nations and the Europeans. She had just turned 13 in the fall of 1985 when the Haida people set up a blockade to prevent logging on Lyell Island.

It was a conflict long in the making: Old-growth forest depletion against sustainable resource management, white justice and values against aboriginal land rights - and the Haida were not backing down.

With tensions running high, the police came and arrested 72 people, beginning with elders Ethel Jones, Watson Pryce and Ada Yovanovich.

"The television images of elders being arrested really struck me." she remembers 32 years later. "I was crying and crying. I couldn't believe this was happening."

The logging stopped. The Haida, who had never come to treaty agreement with Canada, had a critical victory and were keen for more. They eventually took the name "Queen Charlotte Islands," put it in a special ceremony box and hand delivered it to then-premier Gordon Campbell, telling him to send the name back to the Queen.

Their islands would be known henceforth as Haida Gwaii.

The Canadian flag and the flagpainted boat had been cheered at stops along the previous 12 stages, but this segment would test those fuzzy and warm feelings toward the federal government's birthday celebrations.

As Cam Hill, a Gitga'ata leader and school principal at Hartley Bay put it: "It's difficult for us to celebrate Canada's 150th. We welcome you to our community, but we do not welcome your project."

At Skidegate, where the Polar Prince made port, there was a panel discussion regarding the Gwaii Haanas National Park Reserve, National Marine Conservation Area Reserve and Haida Heritage Site, which the expedition would visit the following day. Parks Canada and the Haida share authority, but not with great enthusiasm.

Cindy Boyko, who has represented the Haida interests on the board for the past 17 years, told the gathering that, "It hasn't been easy working with the government of Canada. We don't trust the government ... so we are diligent every step of the way.

Government talk feels too tricky to us ... We've had to learn to co-manage. We've evolved. It has not been easy."

Later, when she and others took a tour of the museum, Ms. Peal was overcome by emotion. She learned that there was once as many as 30,000 Haida living along the shores of these emerald islands. She learned that the Europeans brought smallpox in 1862 and, within short years, the Haida numbered less than 600.

It was not just lives the Europeans took, but the very bones of those who died. The rich Haida culture was ransacked by the obsessive adventurer collectors of the Victorian era, the Haida's beautiful poles and artifacts and, in many cases, even their remains taken away to far off museums and collections.

For more than four decades now, the Haida have fought to repatriate the remains of those taken away as curiosities. More than 500 have now been brought home for burial, the most recent only two days before the arrival of the Polar Prince.

Watching a video of Haida elders talking about the importance of retrieving their property and the remains of their ancestors, Ms. Peal broke into tears.

She went for a walk to clear her mind and eyes and found herself entering the village of Skidegate.

She asked a man whose house had an incredible view of the harbour if she and others from the ship might come onto his porch to take photographs of the scene.

They got to talking and the man told his family history, mentioning his sons and how his late wife had come from Cape Mudge on Quadra Island.

This seemed an improbably coincidence, Ms. Peal thought. "My mother was from Cape Mudge!"

A little more talk and they established that they were related, distant cousins.

Ms. Peal could not get the coincidences or the connections out of her head.

She felt, for the first time, that perhaps she was supposed to be on this journey she had fallen into by accident.

The Polar Prince sailed for Gwaii Hassan and the expedition made shore by four Zodiacs, Ms. Peal sitting alongside Guujaaw, the 64-yearold elder and leader who served as president of the Council of the Haida Nation from 2000-13.

Guujaaw, a large lion of a man, talked about the 1985 standoff, where he was one of the main and most militant activists. The Canadian and international media called it a "blockade" he says, but it wasn't - "It was Haida standing up for our rights. We weren't there to be nonviolent; we were there to stop the logging, whatever it took.

"We weren't mad. We enjoyed it."

Guujaaw is proud that he spent more than a dozen years as head of the First Nation and never had an office. "I never wanted to be a manager," he says. "I'm more a freedom fighter."

Guujaaw was joining the trip to HIk'yah GawGa (Windy Bay) so that he could show the "legacy" totem pole he recently built with his sons to ensure the Haida never forget the great victory at Lyell Island.

"We have never surrendered title," he says. "That is what you would have to do for a settlement. We won't do it."s Later, the group moved along to SGang Gwaay Linagaay, a sheltered bay where a vibrant Haida village once stood. Considered a sacred site by the Haida - and declared a national historic site by Canada - the mossy remnants of foundations and collapsed roofs of loghouses can still be found, with multiple ancient totem poles still standing, their colours long lost to sun and windburn.

Strong emotion again struck Ms. Peal as she walked among the ruins and tried to imagine what the village had been like in its prime, with fishing boats landing and children playing.

Something welled up inside her and she burst into loud, agonizing sobs. Sira Chayer, a videographer with the expedition, wrapped her arms around Ms. Peal and held her until the crying stopped. Others then helped her down to the beach, where she sat on a log and stared out over the water for a long time.

These first few days of the 10-day voyage were all about reflection for Ms. Peal. She spent one afternoon kayaking along the still waters between islands, grew tired, stopped paddling and began to sing Nisga'a songs.

She remembers thinking how nice it would be to see some whales and, to her great delight, when the Zodiac was taking her back to the ship, several humpback whales put on a remarkable and close display of surfacing, spouting and diving.

On Gribble Island she stood, with remarkable calm, as a "spirit bear" fed on dying salmon in the river and then, without the slightest fear, walked out of the water and along the very path that Ms. Peal and others had been standing, watching.

Spirit bears are important in West Coast Indigenous oral histories.

Some believe the rare bears are the colour of ice and snow, reminders of times past, of hardship and survival.

"I was in awe," she says of the moment the spirit bear ambled past her as if she wasn't even there.

There were no factions aboard this leg of the C3 Expedition, no arguments. The evening "sharing" circles fell apart quickly as participants made it clear they'd rather gather informally and socialize over a beer or glass of wine. Perhaps it was because this leg featured so many stops - sometimes two and three a day - and people wanted to dwell on the present rather than the past.

Where the serious talking did take place was in the small communities - mostly Indigenous - where the Polar Prince made land and the participants visited schools and community centres.

And the lead speaker, quickly established, was the very person who thought she had nothing to say, no right even to be on board: Cyndi Peal. Unlike other participants who had offered prepared and professional PowerPoint talks on everything from oil spills to the Paralympics, Ms. Peal did not have so much a scribbled index card. She spoke from the heart.

She began each talk in her own language. She explained how her Nisga'a name means "Stone Eagle."

In English, she told of her work on the fishing boat, her parents finding each other despite the horrors of residential school, her own experiences in school and life and the importance of family and respect for elders.

She found her voice.

And she surprised herself by speaking more and more about reconciliation.

"Take time to support each other," she told the people of Hartley Bay, "through all the hurt, pain, suffering and healing. This will allow us to replace the negative with more positive."

Three weeks after she left the Polar Prince, Ms. Peal considered the journey a "spiritual voyage" for herself. It had profoundly changed her.

"I have a positive feeling for where we are now compared to 10 years ago, or 20 or 30 years ago. I have real hopes and expectations for all of our people.

"I became who I am meant to be," she said. "The trip allowed me to grow in ways I never thought I would - or could imagine with a group of people I had never met."

On a ship she never intended to board.

Associated Graphic

Top: Cyndi Peal takes an afternoon kayak ride through the still waters around Hlk'yah GawGa (Windy Bay) in Haida Gwaii. Above: Ms. Peal, shown laughing at the microphone, got a new perspective on reconciliation and her identity during her time with the Canada C3 expedition. 'The trip allowed me to grow in ways I never thought I would - or could imagine with a group of people I had never met,' she says.


Ms. Peal and others, top, talk reconciliation on the Polar Prince. The voyage had many stops along the way, which included Gwaii Haanas National Park Reserve and Haida Heritage Site and smaller communities - mostly Indigenous - where participants visited schools and community centres.

The man who transformed Toronto FC
Many take credit for TFCs' rise, but Bezbatchenko is the only one who has been in the middle of it all
Saturday, October 28, 2017 – Print Edition, Page S1

TORONTO -- Shortly after he arrived at Toronto FC in 2013, Tim Bezbatchenko was part of two pivotal decisions. At the time, the new general manager was 31 years old and had no experience working in, never mind running, a big-league franchise.

The first decision would end in disaster - signing English star Jermain Defoe.

The second would signal the beginning of the organization's threepoint turn out of perpetual failure - signing Team USA captain Michael Bradley.

The two moves were announced the same day, but there was a short period during which the former was certain and the latter still only likely.

Bezbatchenko was new and didn't really know anybody at Maple Leaf Sports & Entertainment. He'd had a rough public ride on the way in, not because anyone disliked him in any particular way, but because he was so callow, the team was so terrible and this all had a déjà vu feeling. Someone connected to the team - he won't say whom - decided to offer him some advice.

They got him alone and began explaining what was what in Toronto. "They said, 'This is where we're expected to be with Defoe' ..." - Bezbatchenko holds his hand at chin level - "... 'and if we get Michael Bradley we're expected to be up here' ..." - hand held up over his head - "... 'and we don't need that.' " Generally speaking, there are two types of sports executives - listeners and talkers. Bezbatchenko is an unusual amalgam of both. He talks a lot and at a frenetic pace, but long after will recall small details of things you said to him.

(When I met Bezbatchenko this week, he handed me a large, signed paintbrush. I laughed stupidly, because I had no idea what it meant.

Turns out I'd written something about the team a year before that made light of the idea of "painting the town red." Somewhere between amused and bemused, Bezbatchenko remembered.)

So when he was warned not to reach too high or try too hard for fear that it would end in embarrassment (again), the listener in Bezbatchenko gave it some thought.

He went home and talked to his wife. He decided that if he was going down as every manager, GM and president in Toronto FC's cursed history had before him, he was going to be the first to go down with his foot on the gas.

Bezbatchenko wasn't the only person responsible for recruiting Defoe and Bradley, but he would be the one who got the blame if it went wrong.

He did it anyway.

That hundred-million-dollar commitment remains the largest gamble in Major League Soccer history. It was a simultaneous lose/win that helped transform the club from the worst franchise in North American sport to, this season, the best regular-season team in the league's history.

A lot of people enjoy the credit - Bradley, former MLSE CCB (chief carnival barker) Tim Leiweke, a board that okayed an expenditure the corporation will probably never recoup, Sebastian Giovinco, Greg Vanney, all the other players and staff.

However, the one person who has been in the middle of it all is Bezbatchenko.

You can't be immortal without titles and Toronto FC is still five games from that finish line.

But though he is less feted and far less talked about than his peers in the city's hockey, basketball and baseball organizations, Bezbatchenko has quietly laid out a vision that puts him in position to become the most transformative team executive in Toronto's modern history.

When Toronto FC's coaches talk about players, they consider them in terms of "the gap" - the difference between how good a man thinks he is and how good he actually is. Everyone in pro sports has a gap. No one at this club has closed a bigger one than Bezbatchenko.

They handed him the Washington Generals, and in less than four years he turned them into the Harlem Globetrotters.

You can't be immortal without titles and Toronto FC is still five games from that finish line.

But though he is less feted and far less talked about than his peers in the city's hockey, basketball and baseball organizations, Bezbatchenko has quietly laid out a vision that puts him in position to become the most transformative team executive in Toronto's modern history.

When Toronto FC's coaches talk about players, they consider them in terms of "the gap" - the difference between how good a man thinks he is and how good he actually is. Everyone in pro sports has a gap. No one at this club has closed a bigger one than Bezbatchenko.

They handed him the Washington Generals, and in less than four years he turned them into the Harlem Globetrotters.

'I was ready to be scarred'

Like many charmed professional lives, Bezbatchenko's has been the result of a series of heedless leaps.

He played soccer at the national level as a young man, but abandoned that to go to law school.

He gave up a partner-track job at a large firm to be a jumped-up bookkeeper with MLS. As he left, another helpful sort said, "Are you sure this league is going to be around in five years?" When he exited MLS HQ to take the job at Toronto FC, someone at the league walked into his office, closed the door and said, "Are you crazy?" Leiweke recruited him in the most Leiweke way possible - called him out of the blue on a Labour Day weekend and though Bezbatchenko had no experience, offered him the job straight-up. They cautioned him about that, too.

"They told me it would be a whirlwind. [Leiweke] is a visionary. In some ways, he'll scar you, but those scars will make you better," Bezbatchenko says. He mulled that over and decided, "I was ready to be scarred."

Even by low local standards, the first bit was tough sledding.

Shortly after he arrived to so much hype, Defoe decided that he preferred being injured to being here. The only thing he ever seemed to like about Toronto was the paycheque.

Pedigree is everything in sports and Bezbatchenko had none to speak of. The coach at the time, former Premier League pro Ryan Nelsen, tried to plow him over and their relationship quickly soured.

Much of Bezbatchenko's first while was spent doing triage, removing two human-shaped foreign objects from a patient that had already been terminal for nearly a decade.

Asked what the key moment was, Bezbatchenko's hands start waving about as if he's helping land a plane from the ground. He does that usual executive thing - lots of moments, lots of factors, all intersecting, who can really say?

As with most men his age (36) in his position, he is a wonk in his heart. Show him a solution and he'll want to see the calculations before he agrees with it. Every question eventually winds back to "the culture."

"I know you're not a big culture person," Bezbatchenko says like he's sad for me, and waves his hands some more.

But pressed, he'll concede that that was it - the office, the warning and the decision to do it anyway.

"When we got Defoe and Michael, we had to do that to save ... well, I wouldn't say 'save'. That's a strong word. You come up with a better word."

No, "save" is good.

From the storytelling end of things, there's nothing better than covering a habitual loser. Rip jobs are fun to write and fun to read. No team in the history of athletics - reaching back to the Stone Age - has ever been more fun to cover than Toronto FC circa 2008-13.

You'd just show up every once in a while and watch someone - there was always a volunteer - have a complete breakdown in public.

When John Carver, a particularly ill-fated leader, came into a news conference waving a sheaf of papers and screaming, "I know what you're saying about me!" at a room full of us like Nixon on a bender, it was hard not to point skyward and thank St. Francis de Sales for small journalistic miracles.

Single-handed (one might even say undermanned, given Defoe's conscientious objection to working), Bradley changed that.

Toronto FC wasn't yet any good, but you couldn't laugh at it any more. It was more than Bradley's evident quality on the field. If you veered too far into comedy or scorn, he'd get you in a corner, hit you with his laser beams and threequarters politely/one-quarter dangerously explain his displeasure. He cancelled the TFC Gong Show.

Giovinco is the best performer in the history of the team, the league and, one might now argue, the continent, but Bradley is the one-man mission statement. You want to know what to do? Look at that guy.

As an example of Bradley's attention to detail, there are his travel arrangements.

Most pros only want to be told when to be on a bus. They have to be nagged about remembering their passports. If the bus isn't there, that isn't their problem.

Bradley wants to be apprised of everything in advance - when he's going, who's meeting him on the other end, what the schedule is for the next few days.

If he is returning to Toronto after international duty and will likely miss practice in the morning, he'll ask the team to charter him an earlier flight.

If he gets in in the middle of the night, he expects team medics and physiotherapists to be waiting for him at the club's hell-and-gone training facility so that he can prepare alone for the next day.

Bradley does not take time off and he does not clock-watch, so no one else at Toronto FC does either.

The roster is certainly more talented now than it was five years ago, but it always had talent. It's the ethos that's changed.

(Another telling detail: Toronto FC usually flies commercial. The middle-class salarymen sit in coach.

The multimillion-dollar designated players are offered first-class tickets.

Defoe took advantage of the perk.

Bradley sat back in steerage with the rest of the team. Every DP since has followed Bradley's example.)

Bezbatchenko is defined by Bradley's success, but Defoe has one salutary place in the legend. The then-new GM watched Leiweke do that unlikely recruitment, and applied the same psychological tactics: What does this person really want? Because it's not just about the money. What does he need to hear? Because it's not a prose poem about a world-class city - in persuading Giovinco to abandon Italy in his prime.

The rest of it - finding the right coach, managing the league's Byzantine salary structure, slotting together the correct combo of complementary players - played to Bezbatchenko's data-driven strengths.

But his key attribute may be fatalism. He didn't expect to get this job, he didn't expect to keep it ("... I figured I might get fired in 10 or 11 months and that that wouldn't be the end of the world ...") and didn't worry why it happened or what it meant. He just did it.

Reputationally, he's been squeezed between Leiweke's enormous personality and the eventual rise of the team. Since Bezbatchenko wasn't greeted like an Ujiri/Shanahan/Babcock-esque sports messiah on the way in the door, too few plaudits have fallen his way now that he's part of the furniture.

I mean, isn't it easy to buy a team?

That's what he did. That's what people say.

Well, no easier than winning a draft lottery at exactly the right time.

It also elides the fact that Toronto FC had been a buyer before Bezbatchenko got here. He was just the first person to spend the money wisely.

In conversation, he was different four years ago - shyer, prone to speaking jargonese, far more concerned about saying the wrong thing. Time and success have smoothed those edges.

Bezbatchenko even dresses differently - like all MLSE's top executives, he looks as though he's been put through a haberdashery boot camp in Milan.

One thing that remains as it was is the evident delight at where he's ended up, an impossible-not-towarm-to 'aw, shucks'-ness about the whole thing.

He says he gets the occasional call from "really big" clubs in Europe - "less direct interest, more 'Tell me how you do it' " - but has no interest in leaving. He's too folded into the city now - bought a house in the west end, found a good school, created a life here.

He is living the dream, and we're not just talking about sports. He gets to do what he wants in a makebelieve world and no one secondguesses him any more.

Asked if he's got any good advice lately, Bezbatchenko has to give it a lot of thought.

"I'm sure they have," he says. "But I can't think of any right now."

Associated Graphic

Tim Bezbatchenko applauds before an Oct. 15 match between TFC and the Montreal Impact in Toronto. The GM decided if he was going to go down, he would do it with his foot on the gas.


TFC general manager Tim Bezbatchenko is living the dream. No one second-guesses him any more now that he's led the worst team in history to powerhouse status.


Few countries honour their authors as exhaustively as Canada. But, with another nerve-racking awards season upon us, Mark Medley wonders: Does the infatuation help or hurt hopeful writers?
Saturday, October 28, 2017 – Print Edition, Page R1

On Monday, the first-ever winners of the $25,000 Ross and Davis Mitchell Prize for Faith and Writing will be announced at a ceremony at the Aga Khan Museum in Toronto. While Canada's newest literary award shares similarities with many of the country's other literary honours, the prize - which is administered by Cardus, a Christian think tank - is devoted to "faith-themed writing," making it one of only a few non-secular writing prizes of note in the country.

"I think the prize really does occupy a new space for literary culture in Canada," says Randy Boyagoda, a novelist who is also principal of the University of Toronto's St. Michael's College, and who is serving on the jury alongside the likes of parliamentary poet laureate George Elliott Clarke.

"If nothing else, it identifies new literary voices for our country that might not otherwise be heard. That strikes me as a good thing."

But can there be too much of a good thing when it comes to literary prizes?

We're currently in the middle of CanLit's annual awards season, a (roughly) two-month period of industry anxiety and exhilaration that can not only make or break a book, but, in some cases, a writer's career.

The winners of the GovernorGeneral's Literary Awards - 14 prizes spanning seven categories in both official languages - will be revealed on Wednesday. Less than two weeks later, on Nov. 14, the recipients of the Writers' Trust Awards - seven prizes totalling more than $250,000 - will be declared. Finally, the winner of the Scotiabank Giller Prize - who takes home $100,000 - will be announced Nov. 20. This represents but a fraction of the country's literary awards.

Earlier this week, the finalists for the $75,000 (U.S.) Cundill History Prize - administered by McGill University, it is celebrating its 10th anniversary - were revealed; the winner will be announced Nov. 16.

There's the $40,000 British Columbia National Award for Non-Fiction (its long list will be revealed on Wednesday) and the $25,000 RBC Taylor Prize, another major non-fiction award whose long list comes out Dec. 6. The Writers' Trust of Canada administers three literary prizes in addition to those announced in November: the $25,000 Shaughnessy Cohen Prize for Political Writing, the $4,000 Dayne Ogilvie Prize for LGBTQ Emerging Writers and the $10,000 RBC Bronwen Wallace Award for Emerging Writers.

There's an award for best book on Canadian public policy (the $50,000 Donner Prize) and an award for best book related to international affairs (the $15,000 Lionel Gelber Prize). The $10,000 Lane Anderson Awards celebrate the best in science writing, while the $10,000 J.W. Dafoe Book Prize focuses on history. The $10,000 Edna Staebler Award for Creative Non-Fiction is reserved for an author's first or second book. There's also the $30,000 National Business Book Award.

Are you a children's-book or young-adult author? The TD Canadian Children's Literature Awards - with more than $135,000 awarded across eight categories - will be held on Nov. 21. When it comes to poetry, there's a whole range of awards, although the massive $65,000 Griffin Poetry Prize dominates the landscape.

There are prizes for debuting and emerging writers, including the $40,000 First Novel Award, the $10,000 Danuta Gleed Literary Award (for a collection of short stories) and the $10,000 Kobo Emerging Writer Prizes. There's the $15,000 Stephen Leacock Memorial Medal for Humour, one of the country's oldest book prizes.

There's the Arthur Ellis Awards, which recognize the best in crime writing, while if you happen to write science fiction or fantasy you have both the Sunburst Awards for Excellence in Canadian Literature of the Fantastic and the Aurora Awards to choose from.

There are two competing prizes for cartoonists and graphic novelists: the Doug Wright Awards and the Joe Shuster Awards. The CBC also administers several literary awards. Then there's the ReLit Award, which celebrates the best book from an independent publisher; it doesn't carry a cash prize but winners receive an extremely cool ring. Even the American heiress Gloria Vanderbilt sponsors a pair of Canadian literary prizes: the twopronged, $15,000 Carter V. Cooper Short Fiction Competition.

There are city prizes and provincial prizes and regional prizes.

There's not only the Canadian Jewish Literary Awards, but the Western Canada Jewish Book Awards and the Vine Awards for Canadian Jewish Writing. Some prizes are extremely specific, such as the Kobzar Literary Award, which "recognizes outstanding contributions to Canadian literary arts through presentation of a Ukrainian-Canadian theme with literary merit."

It seems it is only a matter of time before there is an award for the best award - as if no Canadian author or publishing house should be left out in the cold.

"I think Canadian prizes still sort of work to prove that Canadian literature is worthy of notice," says Gillian Roberts, an associate professor at the University of Nottingham in England who wrote the book on the subject of Canadian literary awards, 2011's Prizing Literature. She says there's a "colonial mentality that persists" in the Canadian industry, where authors and publishers are constantly wanting to prove themselves against their American and British counterparts.

Montreal author Sean Michaels, who won the Giller Prize in 2014 for his debut novel Us Conductors, thinks the Canadian industry's infatuation with prizes may be linked to the mid-nineties, when authors such as Margaret Atwood, Michael OndAtje and Carol Shields were garnering international awards such as the Booker and the Pulitzer.

"The idea of CanLit, as it evolved in the eighties and nineties, was very much tied up with prestige - international literary prestige. So I think Canada has created it's own cottage prestige industry as a response to that, to kind of recognize our own and keep that prestigeness rolling," Michaels says.

And it continues to roll, with more prizes announced every year, such as the aforementioned Mitchell Prize and the new Indigenous Voices Award, which rose from the controversy surrounding calls for an "Appropriation Prize" earlier in the year.

In a decade spent covering Canada's literary scene, I've sometimes felt as if I've devoted more time to writing about prizes than writing about the books themselves.

The industry has come to "rely on them like a crutch," literary agent Samantha Haywood says, while the focus on prizes has only "gotten more pronounced" in recent years, says Alana Wilcox, editor-in-chief of Coach House Books, which published André Alexis's Giller Prize-winning novel Fifteen Dogs in 2015. "It's a vicious circle. The awards happen because they get media attention, and then the media attention happens because there are the awards."

For the majority of books, the only time they'll receive attention - beyond perhaps a review or two upon publication - is if they are fortunate enough to be nominated for a prize.

"I think to a large extent many of the prizes have evolved and tried to step up and fill a void of attention caused by the fact of declining book [media]," says veteran publisher Anne Collins of Penguin Random House Canada. "Prize culture has bloomed in the vacuum of the fact that we aren't paying the same kind of attention to ... our writers."

"So much of the intense anxiety about prize culture is that there's just no other ways to have conversations about books," says the writer Catherine Bush, who also serves as the co-ordinator of the MFA in creative writing at the University of Guelph. "It's not a sign of a healthy culture. It's a sign of an extremely anxious and insecure culture."

And literary prizes can help fuel that anxiety. The fall is arguably the most stressful time of year for authors and those who work in publishing, all of whom know that if a book doesn't make one of the short lists - especially in the case of literary fiction - it faces even steeper odds when it comes to finding a readership. And it's not only about the award itself - nominations lead to invitations from literary festivals, teaching gigs, speaking engagements and perhaps even secure an author their next book contract.

"I think people get grumpy about prize culture because sometimes it can seem, especially to a writer labouring away for five years to write a novel, that once the book comes out, if they don't hit a list then nobody's going to read them," Collins says. "There's relatively little glory for writers, so it can feel pretty dire if you've written a wonderful book and you haven't made any of the lists. There's so many prizes you think, 'Well, some jury, somewhere, should have noticed that I wrote a great book.' " "As much pleasure as they bring, they also bring pain," says Haywood, the literary agent. "There's so many [prizes] that if, for some reason, you're not on one of those long lists or short lists ... it's sort of a de facto failure. So they're having the opposite effect, in some ways."

Never mind that the financial effects tend to be overstated. With the exception of the Giller Prize and CBC's literary debate competition, Canada Reads, winning an award doesn't necessarily guarantee an author a place on the bestseller list. In many cases, an award is simply a glorified grant, providing a cheque and a nice boost of confidence to the author, but little else.

"So many of these prizes ... it's just 'Here's the prize, here's some dough, and we'll give you a sticker to put on the book,' " says Patrick Crean, who edits his own imprint, Patrick Crean Editions, for HarperCollins Canada.

Still, they provide a "life raft" to writers, says Anne Collins, who notes that when she won the Governor-General's Literary Award for non-fiction in 1988, it allowed her to, literally, put a new roof over her head.

And they are only getting more lucrative. A little more than a decade ago, the winner of the Giller received $25,000; now it's $100,000.

Until last year, the winner of the First Novel Award received $10,000; now, he or she gets $40,000. And this year the winner of the Rogers Writers' Trust Fiction Prize receives $50,000, twice as much as previous years. "More money tends to also bring more attention," concedes Mary Osborne, executive director of the Writers' Trust of Canada.

"Awards are clearly not just about symbolic capital any more," says Roberts, the professor. "There's also economic capital. Or this weird fusion of the two, where the increase in economic capital increases the symbolic capital of the award.

It's like it's more culturally important because it gives more money.

Why should that be the case?" The criticisms levelled at prizes - from the argument that they promote a "winner-takes-all" mentality, to the concern that they cause the media to ignore the titles not shortlisted, to the worry they foster a homogeneous reading culture where everyone reads the same book and nothing else - are ones that organizers have heard over the years.

"I don't see [prizes] as having an adverse effect on writers or writing," says Elana Rabinovitch, the Giller's executive director. "Prizes are important because they shine a very big spotlight on writers that might otherwise not get noticed, and I think if that's the only thing they do then they've done their job."

In addition, prizes serve a valuable purpose for readers, Osborne of the Writers' Trust says.

"You go into a store and there are thousands of books," she says. "One of the things that can help you is just seeing a sticker on the book and thinking, 'Oh, somebody has recognized that as something worth reading.' " Yet, it's the opinion of one particular group of jurors. For proof, look at the short lists for this year's three major fiction prizes, which feature 15 different books - the first time since the Rogers Writers' Trust Fiction Prize was founded that there's never been an author up for two or more of the prizes.

"I think a lot of readers are under the mistaken impression that prize juries are able to identify the single best, or five best, or 10 best, Canadian books, when really that whole question of 'best' is really dependent on taste," Michaels says.

"Prizes really distort and give disproportionate focus and attention on books that did just happen to get a lucky role of the dice."

No one interviewed for this story - from authors to agents, editors to publishers - advocated dismantling the prize system. But neither did anyone have a solution.

"I think it's too bad that success depends on prizes," literary agent Denise Bukowski says. "But I don't think we have much of a choice right now."

Associated Graphic


Canadian short-story writer Madeleine Thien has won a plethora of prizes, including a Governor-General's Award and the Scotiabank Giller Prize, two of the country's most prestigious literary honours.


Sean Michaels, also a Giller Prize winner, says: 'The idea of CanLit, as it evolved in the eighties and nineties, was very much tied up with prestige - international literary prestige.'


Faced with the daunting scale of Alaska, Mark Hume sets out to see the mightiest wonders of land, sea and sky in the state where everything's bigger
Special to The Globe and Mail
Saturday, October 28, 2017 – Print Edition, Page T1

DENALI NATIONAL PARK, ALASKA -- They say everything is bigger in Alaska. Moose weigh 500 kilograms; the Bering Glacier is the largest in North America; and towering over all is Denali, a white giant in the wilderness 380 kilometres north of Anchorage. Measured base to summit, it is the tallest mountain in the world, with a vertical rise greater than Everest's.

Despite such grandeur, however, nothing is bigger than the weather. In a moment, an impenetrable veil of clouds can fall across this vast landscape. Forget about seeing moose. When the weather gets bad, you won't even see the mountain the moose live on.

My companion Maggie and I, hoping to experience the majesty of Alaska and its vast wilderness, had signed up for a trip offered by Princess Cruises out of Anchorage - a five-day road tour to Denali followed by a seven-day "Voyage of the Glaciers" cruise aboard the Star Princess that would take us 1,500 nautical miles from Yakutat Bay south to Vancouver, with stops in Skagway, Juneau and Ketchikan. For a couple that prefers to travel independently and cherishes the solitude of the wilderness, a cruise with 2,000 other passengers was an unusual choice. But faced with the daunting scale of Alaska, which is bigger than Texas, California and Montana combined, it seemed a good way to see a lot in two weeks.

So here we were on the initial, land-based leg of the tour with a pack of fellow travellers following the George Parks Highway north from Anchorage, by bus, through forests glowing with the vibrant reds and yellows of fall, in search of a behemoth of a mountain.

Along the way, we pass through former vice-presidential candidate Sarah Palin's hometown of Wasilla (a tough place where it's said they check you for firearms at the bar - to make sure you have one) and the Matanuska-Susitna Valley, a rich agricultural belt that has grown, among other outlandish things, a 62.71-kilogram world-record cabbage.

Just south of Denali National Park on the viewing deck at Mt. McKinley Princess Wilderness Lodge (Denali was officially known as Mount McKinley from 1917 to 2015), we join a cluster of tourists at a panoramic map that points to a series of mighty peaks in the distance. But we only see layers of grey. People shake their heads in dismay. They came to see Alaska - and for days clouds have hidden it all.

Jack Marsh, the resort's cheerful restaurant manager, tells us Denali makes its own weather and many visitors never do get to see the great mountain. Of the 1,200 climbers who tried to summit it this year, he says, 700 failed because of high winds, ice fog and snowstorms.

But Carlos Gomez, the unflappable tour guide leading our group, reminds us that whether you are a soft tourist or hardened climber, just trying is an accomplishment. "You know," he says, "3.4 million people visit Yosemite every year, but only about 600,000 make it to Denali because it takes a lot more effort."

He routinely checks his cellphone for weather updates but doesn't make any promises.

While the mountain hides, there are lots of distractions in Talkeetna, a small village a short bus shuttle from the Princess lodge. It's a place where the locals roar past on quads, rifles slung across their backs just in case a moose steps out of the woods.

"I like to think of Talkeetna as the Haight-Ashbury of Alaska," Gomez says. "A lot of free thinkers here."

Among them, we meet Shawn Standley of Denali Brewing Co., which was founded by mountain guides in the middle of nowhere and is now crafting award-winning brews, all of which have colourful names such as Twister Creek and Slow Down Brown.

The town gets overrun with tourists when several buses stop, but behind the gift-shop façade there is an authentic place, Standley says.

"This is a real Alaska town. It's not Disneyland," he says.

Just outside town, we meet Jerry Sousa, a musher with 60 sled dogs and dreams of winning the Iditarod, a 1,600-kilometre dogsled race through the Alaska wilderness.

"Do not walk into the dog lot unattended to pet a dog," Sousa barks. "It could be dangerous to your health. You could get a dog chain wrapped around a leg and get dragged around, and from there it would get worse."

His dogs run more than 6,000 km in training and the race takes about 10 to 20 days to complete, depending on the weather.

"To run day in, day out like that, it's crazy," says Sousa, who has made the top 20 in the race but never won. "You cross the finish line, you feel like a winner."

We also meet Boone Scheer and Bryce (Wingnut) Smith, two "professional timber sports athletes" who tour Alaska competing for the top-lumberjack title.

They are in town for a ceremony at the lodge and were hired to throw an axe to cut a ribbon held by two nervous executives.

"We don't work in the woods but we've turned the old skills into a profession," says Scheer, who teaches us how to throw a double-bladed axe while he's drinking a glass of champagne.

The weather continues to hide Denali, but Gomez says there will be a clear sky when we reach Healy, population 1,000, on Denali National Park's northwest shoulder. That means a chance to see the aurora borealis, one of Alaska's leading tourism draws.

"You can get a Northern Lights wake-up call here," Gomez says as we check in to the Denali Princess Wilderness Lodge.

The next night as we head off to bed the sky is indeed clear and the mountain north of town starts to glow. Curtains of luminous green lights undulate in a black sky. It goes on for hours and all around town people, some dressed in pyjamas and down jackets, stand in silence, looking up in wonder.

The next day, clouds fall again and Denali stays hidden. We go into the park anyway, hoping for big game, but the moose, grizzly bears and wolves are nowhere to be seen.

"This is not a wildlife safari," declares the woman driving the wilderness tour bus on the only road in the park. "I can't make the animals come closer. They will do what they want."

What they want, apparently, is to hunker down out of sight.

On the cliffs, we see tiny specks of white. Dall sheep, but at such a distance the "everything is bigger in Alaska" slogan seems to mock us.

Then we turn a corner - and Denali emerges from the clouds. People on the bus gasp at the dazzling wall of white peaks; one of the world's natural wonders is laid before us.

"Wow," the driver says. "I haven't seen Denali like that all summer."

It's as if someone has whipped back a curtain to reveal the high mountains of the Himalayas.

Our journey through the hidden landscape of Alaska is full of such sudden revelations.

As we shift to the seven-day ocean-going portion of the trip, beginning with a nine-hour train ride south from Denali to the port of Whittier, we are surrounded by dramatic landscapes. Approaching the harbour, the train stops so people can watch a pod of beluga whales surfacing.

We soon board the Star Princess and, as the cruise gets under way, the ship's master, Captain Stefano Ravera, says the weather should be good in Glacier Bay, where a great ice sheet hits tidewater. His plan is to run "the white lady" as close to the ice face as is safe, given wind and tides.

A soft-spoken, modest man, Ravera explains, as he paces the bridge, that steering a big vessel in confined waters requires constant vigilance.

"The duty officer always knows where I am. If I take a shower, I have a phone in my shower," he says.

As the ship churns down an inlet that ends abruptly at the 45-metre-high ice face of Grand Pacific Glacier, the captain says the ship takes two kilometres to come to a stop. "So you have to think at least six minutes in advance," he says.

Glacier Bay National Park ranger Nicole Schaub, who has come aboard as a nature guide, says we will get close enough to hear the glacier move.

"It pops. It cracks. It groans. It's like gunshots. It's amazing," she says.

We are surrounded by drear fog, but the bedraggled clouds lift as we draw closer and the glacier is suddenly bathed in light. Rugged mountains march into the distance.

Schaub says the break in the weather is giving us the best view in weeks.

"You are not going to see highways.

You are not going to see shopping malls. There aren't even trails. It might be the 'wildest' you are in your life," she says of the park. Incongruously, we are experiencing this wilderness from the comfort of a luxury cruise liner, where award-winning chefs create meals and contemporary jazz plays in the lounges. It seems a bit surreal as the Star Princess idles among small icebergs, some of which are dotted with sleeping seals and sea otters.

A frigid wind sweeps down on us from the glacier but we stay on the outer deck, shivering and transfixed.

You can hear the ice cracking and slushing into the ocean.

"Amazing," people say in hushed voices. "Incredible."

You might come to Alaska expecting grandeur, but when you finally see it up close it is breathtaking and humbling. There is a sense of loss here, too, however, because climate change has most of Alaska's 100,000 glaciers in retreat. They are losing an estimated 75 billion tonnes of ice every year and some will soon be gone.

As the ship moves on to Skagway, we study the shore excursions available, hoping for a chance to escape the crowds and book a hike up a Klondike gold-rush trail, with a float back on the Taiya River. Just two other couples make the outing and for a few hours we feel immersed in the quiet of the Alaskan wilderness.

In Ketchikan, while cruise-ship tourists throng the local gift shops, Snorkel Alaska provides another chance to get away. Two guides take four of us into the frigid waters, where we are surrounded by schools of silver perch and the sea urchins glow neon colours. Guide Kurt Trennert promises the seven-millimetrethick wetsuits will keep us warm, and he is mostly right, but a bucket of hot water poured inside the suit at the end of the dive is sublime.

That night, Maggie and I sleep with the sliding glass door in the cabin open so we can hear the sea and the calling of night birds as Alaska slowly melts away behind us.

While looking at Alaska from a tour bus and cruise ship - instead of a canoe, our usual wilderness choice - didn't allow us much chance at intimacy with nature, some shore excursions did offer quiet moments and, faced with the huge scale of the Last Frontier State, it was a remarkably fun way to experience a place of overwhelming scale.

There is also a lot to be said for the pleasure of sipping martinis in a cocktail bar while the rugged wilderness drifts past.

Alaska is huge, but we got a true taste of it. In two weeks, we travelled to the heart of Denali, visited remote glaciers, swam in icy seas and met colourful Alaskans who seemed almost as mythological as the landscape itself.

The writer travelled as a guest of Princess Cruises. It did not review or approve this article.


In the summer of 2018, Princess Cruises will have seven ships sailing in Alaskan waters, offering 130 departures.

The cruise ships, most of which include Glacier Bay National Park in their itinerary, depart from Vancouver, Seattle, San Francisco, Los Angeles and Anchorage (at Whittier).

The cruise line will also offer more than 20 land trips that venture into the interior of Alaska, where there are five Princess Wilderness Lodges.

The 12-day Denali Explorer land and sea tour (featured in this article) starts at about $2,600 (U.S.) a person for an interior room on the ship, but prices range to more than $5,000 for a suite. The tour, which includes a five-day land trip by bus and train, and a sevenday ship cruise, is available from May 7 through Sept. 7.

Detailed information on the various itineraries and price options available can be obtained through a travel agent or at

Associated Graphic

In Alaska's Glacier Bay National Park, the Star Princess cruise ship gets close enough that passengers can hear the ice sheets move.


Denali, a white giant north of Anchorage, Alaska, is the world's tallest mountain when measured base to summit, with a vertical rise greater than Everest's. The nearby resort's restaurant manager says Denali makes its own weather and is often clouded from view.


There are lots of distractions in Talkeetna, a small village near the Denali resort. It's a place where the locals roar past on quads with rifles slung across their backs just in case a moose steps out of the woods.

A leader who can knock off Notley is the UCP's focus
Brian Jean, Jason Kenney and Doug Schweitzer may stand apart on social issues after the long campaign, but they head to the finish line in agreement that Alberta needs to massively curtail spending
Saturday, October 28, 2017 – Print Edition, Page S1

CALGARY -- United Conservatives will meet their leader this weekend, allowing the party to move on to what they see as the pressing business of defeating Premier Rachel Notley's NDP government in the provincial election less than two years away.

The United Conservative Party hopes to capitalize on public anger over government policies such as the carbon tax and angst over massive deficits and a still-brittle economy. For their part, the NDP will assail the United Conservatives for their positions on social issues and will attempt to rally public-sector workers to vote against UCP calls to roll back public-sector salaries and implement hiring freezes.

"The fortunes of the UCP will be determined by the leader," said Chaldeans Mensah, a political scientist at MacEwan University in Edmonton.

"The key for the conservative voting bloc in Alberta - and this amalgamation of the two parties - is to have a leader to be the face of the party and to be able to set the terrain for policy development and the building of constituency associations in preparation for the next election," which is likely to be scheduled between March 1 and May 31, 2019.

The leadership contest between Brian Jean, Jason Kenney and Doug Schweitzer has defined the early existence of the UCP, which was created when members of the Wildrose and Progressive Conservative parties overwhelmingly voted to merge in July.

The candidates agree in broad strokes that the province - which could have a $94-billion debt by 2020, according to one credit rating agency - needs to massively curtail spending and attract more business investment. But party members must choose between the three based on who they believe can win a general election, who would make the best premier and which candidate's social views best reflect their own - including where they stand on controversial issues such as sex ed and educational choice for parents.

Tensions between the camps of Mr. Jean and Mr. Kenney ran throughout the leadership campaign and occasionally flared in public.

For instance, Mr. Jean's comment this summer that the days of "hardright" governments in Alberta are over was a veiled slight directed at Mr. Kenney.

Mr. Jean also tried to link the former federal cabinet minister to the Sept. 30 attacks on a police officer and pedestrians in Edmonton by asking how Somali national Abdulahi Hasan Sharif, the alleged perpetrator, got into Canada while Mr. Kenney was in charge of immigration. (Mr. Kenney called the comments "ridiculous" and noted his changes to improve immigration security screening while in Ottawa.)

Meanwhile, the political attacks on Mr. Jean, the former Wildrose leader, have come mostly through Mr. Kenney's allies.

Jeff Callaway, the former Wildrose president who dropped out of the leadership race early this month to support Mr. Kenney, used his time on stage during debates in September to criticize Mr. Jean, accusing him of not focusing enough on Wildrose's "grassroots" members.

Mr. Jean says he has been especially angered that Mr. Kenney's supporters have used social media to raise questions about his commitment to Christian values.

But Mr. Kenney did put himself in the fray when he criticized Mr. Jean for running a deficit of more than $300,000 at the Wildrose legislature offices, with Mr. Jean arguing that budgets are seasonal and that there won't be a deficit by the end of the year.

At the same time, Mr. Schweitzer targeted Mr. Kenney's reputation as a social conservative - based on the latter's university days as an antiabortion spokesman and his current belief that in some cases parents should be told if their kids have joined a gay-straight alliance at school.

Mr. Schweitzer has said Mr. Kenney's positions, or lack of clarity, on these issues will be an albatross for the party in the next election.

Brian Jean

When Brian Jean explains why he wants to be Alberta's premier - saying what he has now said hundreds of times - he tells the personal story of losing his 24-year-old son in March, 2015. It's still painful and raw.

"It's the only way I can fix health care," said Mr. Jean, 54, taking a moment to compose himself in a recent interview. "That's what it's all about."

Mr. Jean's family has been in Fort McMurray for 50 years, much longer than most in a community whose population boomed only in the past two decades, alongside oil sands development. He describes himself as a hunter and trapper.

But his mother, Frances, started the first newspaper in town, and his family's City Centre Group Inc. now owns commercial real estate, a car wash and a parking lot.

His son Michael was set to take over the business when he died after what Mr. Jean describes as months in and out of hospital, having the wrong medicines administered and his lymphoma misdiagnosed. "We were building a hotel," Mr. Jean said, speaking about his son's role in the business.

Outside politics, there is much Mr. Jean could do. But he says he is motivated daily to improve the health-care system by working on issues such as cutting wait times and building a single e-record system that he says will promote patient-centred care.

He is the only sitting MLA in the leadership race. Before becoming Wildrose leader in 2015 - and rebuilding the party from a mass floor-crossing to the PC party in late 2014 - he had sat as a Conservative backbencher for a decade. He doesn't have anything near the federal endorsements of his chief rival, Mr. Kenney, but he has some highprofile supporters, including former TransCanada chief executive Hal Kvisle and former hockey star Theo Fleury, as well as the only two women in the UCP caucus, Leela Aheer and Angela Pitt.

His former campaign manager, Hamish Marshall, has stepped away from the day-to-day to move into his role as the federal Conservative Party's campaign chair for 2019, but Mr. Jean said he still provides regular advice.

Like Mr. Kenney, Mr. Jean says Alberta should take a harder line if the federal government implements energy policies that impede oil sands development or if other provinces try to block pipeline construction. Both men are calling for a provincial referendum on the Equalization Program, which would give Alberta leverage in talks regarding a new deal with Ottawa.

But Mr. Jean takes a softer tone in explaining why he wants a referendum. He says it's not about getting Albertans enraged, it's about providing a relief valve for people who are disappointed with Ottawa and other provinces.

"It's boiling to anger," he said.

"That's why we have to have this referendum, so they can have their say."

His campaign push in the past week featured stops in both Edmonton and Calgary, where the UCP likely faces a greater challenge against the governing NDP. In the provincial capital, the UCP is less popular than in other parts of the province. Mr. Jean - the candidate with the highest polling numbers and the only one to hail from outside Calgary - says he's the only one who stands a chance of winning any seats in Edmonton in 2019.

Jason Kenney

If patrons of the Blackfoot Truckstop Diner all voted, Jason Kenney would have the leadership contest in the bag. He says that every time he sets foot in Calgary's most famous greasy spoon, often for media interviews, someone buys him breakfast.

But Mr. Kenney, 49, says his political popularity is broad. "We're feeling pretty confident," he said in the days before the vote.

Many view him as the front-runner, and there's a lot of reasoning on his side. A former Conservative MP and cabinet minister, he has a wellspring of experience in the much-tougher political arena of Ottawa. He has a long list of political endorsements from federal Conservatives, and his campaign team brags they have more than 4,000 volunteers pounding the pavement on his behalf.

His Calgary-heavy cadre of powerful advisers and fundraisers includes GMP FirstEnergy's Jim Davidson and veteran political operative Cliff Fryers. John Weissenberger, a close friend and ally of former prime minister Stephen Harper, is his campaign manager. Mr. Kenney has a strong claim to being the main catalyst in Alberta's conservative unification movement.

Ultimately, he is trying to get people to look beyond the next election - to convince them that he will "be an effective premier at a very challenging time." He bristles at the suggestion his political success comes simply from his strength in organizing voting wings. "You can't organize non-support."

But Mr. Kenney is polarizing to many. Some still have bad memories of his pointed attacks on politicians during his days with the Canadian Taxpayers Federation and what he describes as his "stylistically aggressive" performance in the House of Commons as an MP. In polls of the overall Alberta electorate, people do not appear to like Mr. Kenney as much as they do Mr. Jean - something that may be on party members' minds as they cast their ballots. Mr. Kenney says some UCP party members think he's just "from Ottawa."

His more conservative stand on social issues, past and present, continues to ruffle feathers and remains a point of attack for his critics and the NDP government, even though he refers to himself as a "mainstream, unhyphenated conservative." He never says much about his personal life and he agrees he's married to the job.

"My personal life isn't that ..." he says, trailing off. "What am I going to do - talk about the latest book I read on the road or the latest movie I saw?"

Doug Schweitzer

Doug Schweitzer's key moment during the leadership race may have come during the Lethbridge debate this month, when he gave an impassioned speech about the results of Calgary's municipal election.

"The left wing kicked our butt," he said of the Oct. 16 vote that saw incumbent Mayor Naheed Nenshi returned to office. "The NDP organizers were active. And young people showed up in droves."

The 38-year-old restructuring partner from the Calgary office of law firm Dentons is the least-known candidate of the three, with no experience in elected office. But Mr. Schweitzer has performed well in debates - getting strong applause from the live audiences - and has found some momentum with his argument that there has been a generational change and that the UCP needs to be "socially moderate."

He says that belief helped inform his decision to enter the leadership contest against Mr. Kenney and Mr. Jean. And he argues that the new party is in danger of losing because the governing NDP will run its next election campaign on social issues - not the troubled state of the province's finances.

"I've seen a shift in politics here.

And I don't think we can go back to a traditional conservative model and be successful," he said in an interview.

His past political experience is in organizing for others. He helped with the rebuilding of Manitoba's Progressive Conservative Party during Hugh McFadyen's tenure as leader. He is a long-time friend of Bill Smith - who challenged Mr. Nenshi in Calgary, but lost - and ran Mr. Smith's successful 2009 bid for the PC Party presidency. He also headed the PC leadership campaign for Jim Prentice in 2014.

So his experience is in the backroom, but he has long been talked about as a leadership candidate by conservatives who want a youthful, energetic infusion to the party. His list of political endorsements is short, but his campaign's honorary chair is PC stalwart Peter Elzinga, who served as chief of staff to former Alberta premier Ralph Klein.

Although Mr. Schweitzer has two young daughters, he said this year was the right time for him to make a long-mulled leap into elected politics.

"With my training as a restructuring partner at the firm, it gives you a certain skill set to help turn around organizations and companies that are facing difficulty," he said. "We're facing a similar situation here in Alberta right now, where we need to turn this around."

Following a 21/2-day voting period by phone and online, the preferential ballot results of the leadership contest is set to be announced in Calgary on Saturday after 5 p.m. MT.

Associated Graphic

For Brian Jean, top, fixing health care after the loss of a son, is a priority. Jason Kenney, middle, campaigning at a truck stop, was an MP in Ottawa for 19 years. Doug Schweitzer gets a thumbs up from supporter David Despins in Edmonton on Wednesday.


Brian Jean and Jason Kenney shake on a deal creating the United Conservative Party in May, but tensions between the leadership candidates flared during the campaign.


'Rebel' of national park mounts new court challenge in 40-year expropriation fight
Jackie Vautour, now 88, says he'll continue to live illegally inside Kouchibouguac National Park until he gets his land back
Tuesday, November 14, 2017 – Print Edition, Page A1

PARK, N.B. -- There are two warning signs at the entrance to Jackie Vautour's ramshackle New Brunswick homestead.

"It is because of you that the government is making us suffer as you can see," one reads. "Have a good look."

"Avis," the other continues. "Parc Canada sont defendu d'empieter."

Which roughly translates as "Warning: Parks Canada are ordered not to trespass."

Mr. Vautour has squatted here, on the side of the highway in the middle of Kouchibouguac National Park, for more than 40 years in protest of the 1976 expropriation of his home, which occurred during a government land grab that uprooted more than 1,000 people in seven neighbouring communities - about an hour's drive north of Moncton - as work for the national park began. It's where he raised nine children with his wife, Yvonne.

In more tense times, this tworoom house overlooking Kouchibouguac Bay was central to a resistance movement waged by locals against provincial and federal authorities, a saga marred by violence on both sides.

Today, all other banished park residents have moved on. Tensions long ago subsided, but Mr. Vautour's resolve has not. Undeterred by decades of legal roadblocks, aborted or failed court challenges, waning public support and the fact that he's now 88, Mr. Vautour continues to fight the expropriation.

The Rebel of Kouchibouguac (a nickname he hates because he believes it implies he is doing something wrong) is mounting his latest challenge with the Court of Queen's Bench of New Brunswick, asserting Métis heritage on behalf of himself and 126 other former park families.

Mr. Vautour and co-plaintiff Stephen Augustine, the hereditary chief for the region's Mi'kmaq people, are seeking aboriginal title to the park land. If successful, it could mean the end of Kouchibouguac National Park.

With this playing out at a time when Canada is attempting reconciliation with its First Nations people, Mr. Vautour's lawyer, Michael Swinwood, is hoping for a similar outcome to the 2014 Supreme Court decision that granted title of 1,700 square kilometres of land to Tsilhqot'in First Nation in British Columbia.

No statement of defence has been filed, but Mr. Swinwood expects the provincial and federal governments will argue that no Métis community ever existed at Kouchibouguac, a similar position taken against Mr. Vautour and his son Roy in a 20year-old hunting- and fishing-rights case pending appeal at the Supreme Court of Canada.

It's another verse in Mr. Vautour's exhaustive attempt to have the land he lives on returned to him.

"The only way I keep moving is the almighty Lord and the strength in my belief," he says. "No one can understand why I keep going. It's quite a thing. Just one day at a time."

'There is a folklore that he is the lone ranger' A tear falls from Mr. Vautour's left eye onto the page in front of him.

"I'm not crying," he mutters, wiping the drop away with a tissue.

"It's just that I have a bad eye. Had that ever since they pepper-sprayed my eye. I have a hard time crying.

If I was a person like that, I'd have cried myself to death by now."

Rather than engage in an interview, Mr. Vautour reads from a statement that takes more than an hour to get through.

As he grumbles his way through events such as the creation of the park, the expropriation and its effect on his family and his role in the resistance, Mr. Vautour barely skips a beat.

Known for his bureaucratic prowess, Mr. Vautour keeps files that stretch back to the days when Louis Robichaud, the Acadian premier responsible for first creating the park in 1969, was in power. He recalls names of long-forgotten government ministers who came to visit him. He remembers dates and places.

But his rhythm is interrupted, and he goes off-script, when he reaches the details of the violence that played out in the park's early years, specifically his family's removal from a motel at the hands of police in March, 1977.

The Vautours boarded in nearby Richibucto on the government's dime after police evicted them and bulldozed their home when they refused to abide by the expropriation.

When the province stopped footing the bill for their stay, the family refused to leave. To remove them, police used axes and tear gas before dragging Mr. Vautour and his sons to jail.

The melee was indicative of the tense and frequently violent climate around the park at the time between authorities and resisters.

One former warden described the battles as "force against force."

Mr. Vautour shakes his head at the memory and sheds another tear. This one appears to surprise him.

"I don't know what's wrong with me," he says.

Mr. Vautour's toughness and resilience is the stuff of legend. Many view him as a folk hero.

He is a short, stoic man with a perpetual scowl. What's left of his cream-coloured hair is slicked back.

He has sideburns and a handlebar mustache fit for a biker.

"There is a folklore that he is the lone ranger, standing up against big government," said Donald Savoie, the New Brunswick political scientist who grew up in nearby Bouctouche. "He became a symbol of resistance."

Mr. Vautour's popularity exploded when the public saw images and video of a government worker bulldozing his house in 1976. To that point, he was a community organizer, employed by a government agency, arguing for better deals against what were viewed as lowball offers made to local landowners who lived in the park. At the same time, the province, which was responsible for removing the inhabitants, tried to buy them out.

After his home was demolished, he became the face of a movement.

In those days, Mr. Vautour was a mainstay in the press, drawing media attention from across the country. Reporters flocked to New Brunswick to report on the unrest in the park, which finally opened to the public in 1979.

With that exposure came praise and backlash, especially in Kent County, a largely Acadian area that also includes anglophone and First Nations communities. Mr. Vautour's actions earned him both followers and detractors. He became a polarizing figure for his outspokenness and grandstanding.

He says he's been targeted with death threats and campaigns to discredit his fight. There have also been innumerable visitors who've shown up on his doorstep asking to shake his hand.

Ronald Rudin, a history professor at Concordia University and author of the 2016 book Kouchibouguac: Removal, Resistance and Remembrance at a Canadian National Park, said for every person he interviewed who admired Mr. Vautour, there was another who resented him.

"It's totally mixed, it's divided," said Prof. Rudin, whose book details the creation of the park and the experiences of the expropriated families.

Attention to the land fight has faded over the years. Prof. Savoie believes people are tired of hearing about Mr. Vautour's plight.

Some locals roll their eyes at the mention of his name. Many believe he was fairly compensated because of his receiving a $228,000 payout (a far greater sum than any other expropriated family) and a deal for off-park land from then-premier Richard Hatfield in 1987.

"That's a fair chunk of change, but he didn't move," Prof. Savoie said. "That's why people think they've heard enough of him."

Mr. Vautour acknowledges receiving the money, which he says paid for his legal costs. He denies agreeing to vacate.

Roughing it in the 'castle' With the exception of a two-year period following his eviction, Mr. Vautour has lived on this property since 1934. It was once part of a community called Fontaine. All that remains is the Vautour "castle," which was rebuilt after he and his family returned to the land in 1978.

There is no running water in the house. Jackie and Yvonne Vautour use a portable toilet and bathe "the old-fashioned way."

"When people ask, I tell them, 'The same way your great-grandfather would've,' " Mr. Vautour says.

There is no cellphone service, nor do they have access to telephone or hydro lines.

A small solar panel powers the lights inside the house. Prior to its installation, a kerosene lantern was the only source of light. Any leftover juice from the panel is put into running a small television and DVD player given to them by their children.

"We've played a lot of solitaire," Mr. Vautour says.

The inside of the tiny home - a kitchen and small bedroom - is a shrine to Mr. Vautour, his fight and his family. Pinned up all around the house are old editorial cartoons, newspaper clippings and photos of the man they call the eternal rebel.

In the summer, the couple grows vegetables. Fried green tomatoes are a staple. They consume an array of boxed and canned foods, such as corn flakes and Kraft Dinner, while storing meat and produce in a cooler that costs about $7 worth of ice a day.

Every morning, Mr. Vautour gets up with the sun and goes for a walk down the road. He'll spend at least an hour exercising in his home gym, housed in the garage.

He'll bench press a rusted barbell, go through cable workouts on an old all-purpose machine and do some light cardio on a stepper. For breakfast, he eats tomatoes fresh from the garden, with a pair of eggs over easy and a bowl of cereal.

Yvonne Vautour, 85, keeps fit by skipping and jogging in the yard on sunny days.

Summer can be lovely, but winter is difficult to cope with as they grow older. A wood stove is the couple's only source of heat.

Their son Edmond Vautour worries during those cold months. As the child most involved with his father's legal fight, he is the contact for a majority of Mr. Vautour's affairs. He and Mr. Swinwood, the lawyer, are seeking approval from the government to build a home more appropriate for the winter.

But because the Vautours reside in Kouchibouguac illegally, Parks Canada forbids it.

In a statement, the federal agency said it "will not and cannot authorize the installation of new services or dwellings for illegal occupants in the park."

In keeping with recommendations in the report of a 1981 special government inquiry, Parks Canada will not forcibly remove the Vautours, but the denial of services leaves the couple in a perpetual standoff with the government, neither side willing to budge.

Rather than leave, Mr. Vautour has always said he would die here.

He changed expropriation policy The land-claim lawsuit may not change anything; Mr. Vautour could spend the rest of his days on the side of Highway 117, living illegally on land he used to own.

There are two parts of Mr. Vautour that people will remember, Prof. Savoie says. The first is the romantic idea portrayed in poems, songs, stage productions and documentaries of a man and his land, standing alone against the government.

His more tangible impact, however, is on public policy and how he changed the way land is expropriated, Prof. Savoie says. Governments no longer use the same heavy-handed approach employed at Kouchibouguac.

"What's the saying? 'Come the moment, come the man.' The moment came, and there arrived Jackie Vautour. Give him that.

Someone had to do it," Prof. Savoie says. "For anybody, an individual, not a prime minister or a political organization, just a man, to have that kind of impact on the machinery of government, for that you have to give him some credit. That is no small achievement."

A verdict in his latest case could take years. But Mr. Vautour is long on patience.

He said he would like to see his fight settled in his favour before he dies. In the meantime, Mr. Vautour says he'll do what he's always done.

"I never get tired of fighting."

Associated Graphic

Jackie Vautour's two-room home in Kouchibouguac National Park, N.B., has no running water and no access to telephone or hydro lines.


Top: Warning signs in French and English urge Parks Canada employees 'not to trespass' on the Vautours' shack in Kouchibouguac. It was once part of a community called Fontaine that was cleared away in the 1970s expropriation that built the park. Above: A kerosene lantern was the Vautours' only source of light in the house until a small solar panel was installed.


Saturday, October 28, 2017 – Print Edition, Page M1

It's the end of a long day for the executive committee of Toronto city council. Mayor John Tory and his hand-picked group of councillors have been sitting since 9:30 in the morning. It is now approaching 8 in the evening. In between voting and debating, they have listened to a couple of dozen citizens tell them off.

As the meeting in committee room 1 of Toronto City Hall winds down, three well-known figures take their turns at the desk facing the the semi-circle of politicians. They are the final members of the public to speak - and the most familiar. The issue is a grandstanding councillor's motion to support the police against what he calls a torrent of recent abuse.

One speaker is a thick-set man in Che Guevara T-shirt and camouflage shorts who holds up his phone as he speaks to shoot video of the men and women in suits arrayed before him. He tells the councillors they should reject the divisive motion and get on with fighting poverty and racism. Another speaker, wearing a long chain attached to his wallet, insists 99 per cent of cops are good guys.

Yet another complains about a reported takedown at police headquarters. He ends his talk by asking the mayor not to use the title "mister" when addressing him. He has a whole explanation for that. It has to do with maritime law.

Meet the deputants, the little band of oddballs and obsessives who help keep city politicians honest. They aren't terribly influential. They certainly aren't powerful. Sometimes they aren't even coherent. But just the fact that they are around, and that the powerful have to hear them out, is somehow reassuring all the same.

In city hall jargon, a deputant is someone who comes in to give a deputation or presentation before one of the city's various committees, boards and agencies. Deputants usually get five minutes to speak, or "depute." At city hall meetings, the time is measured out on a digital wall clock.

Some deputants are lobbyists for real estate interests or business groups that might be gored by a new city tax or policy. Others come from residents' associations up in arms about a too-tall condo or an overcrowded dog park.

Some are threatened workers: Taxi drivers came by the score to rant about Uber. When the adultentertainment industry was annoyed about city nightclub rules, it sent a woman called Viviana to do a pole dance in heels and shiny shorts before the wide-eyed members of the licensing and standards committee. She brought her own pole.

The city clerk's office registered 2,475 deputations in 2016. The executive committee, the last stop for issues before they go to city council for a vote, was the most popular forum, with 390.

Councillors can count on getting an earful. At an executive session last month, one deputant said they denied him the right to raise a flag to mark the anniversary of the Rwandan genocide. Another said they were nuts to close a commuter parking lot near a big subway station. Yet another said they are treating the city's treasured ravines as a slumlord treats his tenants.

Anyone can depute. A deputant just needs to register with the city clerk, which is as easy as clicking the "Request to Speak" button when a committee's agenda is posted online. But certain deputants show up again and again. One city councillor calls them "frequent flyers." Over the years, they have become fixtures in the corridors of Toronto's famous, winged City Hall, known to reporters, security guards, councillors and officials alike. Even the mayor knows them on sight.

Some have been showing up for decades, outlasting several mayors.

The grandfather of them all, Steve Munro, 69, started speaking in the early 1970s. Today, arrayed in a white beard, ponytail and leather vest, the retired IT guy renowned for his command of transit lore is still a regular at Toronto Transit Commission meetings, though these days he usually comes to observe and gather information for his transit blog instead of to make a deputation.

Many deputants have particular axes to grind - and grind and grind. For Hamish Wilson, it is making the city safer for cyclists. A boyish 60-year-old with a buzz cut, he has been campaigning tirelessly since the 1990s, appearing over and over at what he calls "City Wall" to complain about Toronto's underbuilt network of bike lanes, among many other issues. In automobiledominated "Car-onto," he often feels as if he is "tilting at windshields."

Alan Yule's fixation is transit. His homemade slide shows are a staple of TTC meetings. He has deputed on everything from improving the night-bus system to accommodating strollers on transit vehicles to the hell of short-turning streetcars.

At the last board meeting, on Oct. 16, he roasted the commission for its "archaic trip-based directional transfer policy."

Derek Moran, an unemployed former warehouse worker, wants to help councillors understand the law. He often appears at city hall committees or the police board to deliver hard-to-follow lectures on things such as "the bills of exchange act."

When the mayor thanked him for his input at the executive committee, he jumped up to insist he would not be called "Mister" Moran. He doesn't like it, he explains, because maritime commanders use that honorific when addressing inferior officers. "Sorry, I forgot," the mayor of Canada's biggest city said.

Other deputants are soup-to-nuts generalists. They will speak about just about anything. Miroslav Glavic, the guy with the wallet on a chain, started off early this decade deputing about light-rail transit and moved on to technology, pushing city hall to stream its meetings online (it finally does). Now he puts his oar in on everything from budgets to housing.

He will often speak on two or three subjects at a single meeting.

City records show he spoke 56 times at major committees in the two years to Oct. 1, and that doesn't count his appearances at smaller committees or the community council in Scarborough, the suburb where he lives.

Mr. Glavic, 39, is a food photographer and sometime blogger who immigrated from Croatia in 1990.

He says deputations are important because "in person you see the emotion when someone is speaking." If city councillors don't like to listen to him, well, "they shouldn't be councillors. Part of the job is to listen to the people."

Seeing the usual suspects such as Mr. Glavic appear time after time drives some city hall politicians around the bend. Denzil MinnanWong, one of the city's deputy mayors, says it takes time away from others and makes for drawnout meetings. "Are these people contributing to the democratic process," he asks, "or are they limiting it?" He says it may be time to put restrictions on the frequent flyers by limiting the number of times they can speak at one meeting or capping the total amount of time they can speak in one day.

Others argue that letting people speak their minds is just part of being a democracy. "As soon as we start to restrict deputations to those people we find interesting, we are restricting free speech and restricting access to government," Councillor Gord Perks says. Welcoming input from everyone and anyone "is a necessary condition - I wouldn't even call it an evil - of open and inclusive government."

Mr. Perks, in a younger, shaggier phase, often delivered passionate deputations of his own, calling on the city to close a big garbage incinerator and step up recycling.

Now he wears slim suits and represents a ward in the west end of downtown.

Some deputations are tiresome and predictable. They disappear into the ether as soon as they are uttered. But others make a difference. At a famous all-night meeting on cutting city services in 2011, Mayor Rob Ford pounded back cans of Red Bull to stay alert as he listened to dozens speakers. One of them was Anika Tabovaradan, a 14year-old girl who sobbed as she begged Mr. Ford not to cut library services. Her words galvanized opposition to Ford-era cuts.

Another deputant, Mary Hynes, got thunderous applause when she delivered a sarcastic "modest proposal" to shut down all sorts of city services. With her curly white hair and high-decibel delivery, she became known as "yelly granny."

A few deputants record small, practical victories. Emily Jane Daigle, 38, a passionate advocate for accessibility who calls City Hall her "second home," says she complained for years about a low-slung deputation table that was hard for speakers in wheelchairs to use comfortably. Ms. Daigle suffers from multiple disabilities, including being legally blind and hearing impaired. She survives on government assistance, lives with her husband in a tiny apartment and wears a Deadpool button on her baseball cap because the comic book anti-hero "gets things done and doesn't take crap from anybody."

Last November she accidentally knocked the table right over with her motorized chair when she was preparing to address the Community Development and Recreation Committee, causing gasps and a big commotion in the committee room. City workers fixed the table so it can be raised and lowered to accommodate wheelchairs.

The regular deputants are realistic about their impact. Mr. Moran reckons that, for most councillors, his advice "goes in one ear and out the other. They do whatever they want anyway."

Although Mr. Tory usually takes pains to be polite to deputants, thanking them and apologizing if they have waited a long time to speak, some councillors just stare at their phones or their papers while the speakers fill their five minutes. Occasionally councillors exercise their right to ask questions of deputants, stretching the speaker's moment in the sun beyond five minutes, but that usually happens only when they agree with the point being made or just want to sound off themselves.

Miguel Avila-Velarde, 52, likes to think that politicians listen to his deputations and appreciate his passion for social justice. "They understand my righteous anger, you know what I'm saying?" An immigrant from Peru, he has been a regular since the Toronto Zoo fired him from his job as caretaker in 2009. He hopes to help build a city where "we can all live together in peace, unity and love."

With his Che T-shirts, mane of dark hair and jean vest with badges that say "Places to go, people to annoy" and "Am I free to go, officer?" he is hard to miss. Chatting in the City Hall lobby, he waves and says "How you doing?" to a passing security guard, then leans over to confide, "They have a file on me."

Mr. Wilson, the ardent cyclist, is jaded but persistent. He pleaded for more than a decade to get a bike lane on Bloor Street, the major east-west roadway, but when it opened about a year ago on a trial basis, it was much shorter than hoped. He feels his warnings about another preoccupation, climate change, are being disregarded, too.

"We are really scorching the Earth and limiting the future of the world."

He is depleting the inheritance he lives on and admits that he really should see a dentist. Still, he keeps coming. The city, he says, needs new ideas. One of his current favourites is running a bus route along a Scarborough Hydro corridor with high-voltage wires running overhead. He produces a map of the route.

By making deputations to city councillors, he says, "You can bring perspective and maybe influence their minds, such as they are."

When asked whether he isn't just a pain in the neck for some of them, he answers, "I hope so."

Associated Graphic

Steve Munro is photographed at Toronto City Hall earlier this month. Mr. Munro, who is an expert on transit, is one of a group of regular deputants who advocate for a variety of issues.


Steve Munro has been making deputations at Toronto City Hall since the 1970s and is renowned for his transit knowledge.


Miroslav Glavic is a frequent deputant at City of Toronto committee meetings and will speak on a variety of topics, including technology and light rail.

Miguel Avila-Velarde, 52, says he wants a city where 'we can all live together in peace, unity and love.' The other deputants mentioned in the story declined to be photographed.

The common salt problem
In the coming year, the federal Liberal government will introduce a policy that would set sodium-reduction targets for Canadian food, as it has for sugar, saturated fats and other problematic nutrients. However, Ann Hui writes, it is unclear how those targets will be applied and how effectively they might curb unhealthy habits. The food industry, for one, is taking the transition with a grain of salt
Monday, November 20, 2017 – Print Edition, Page A8

Like most professional chefs, Michael Olson relies on muscle memory when it comes to salt. He's spent decades in kitchens, honing this ability to understand through taste, touch and feel when to layer salt into a dish - and how much to add at a time.

And whether they're cooking blanched haricots verts, or a terrine of foie gras, pretty much every cook he's ever worked with relies on that same instinct. "It's kind of a sweet spot," he said.

"Rarely, rarely, rarely," do professional chefs measure the stuff.

But they might have to start.

Over the past year, the federal Liberal government has been putting in place healthy-eating policies in a bid to curb the use of sugar, saturated fat and other problematic nutrients in food. It's now turning its attention to salt, including salt on restaurant menus.

In the year ahead, Health Canada plans to draft a policy that would set targets for sodium reduction in the restaurant industry. The department wraps up consultations with the industry this week and hopes to have targets in place by the end of 2019. What those targets would look like, and who might be affected - whether just the major restaurant chains, or all restaurants - is still up in the air. Also up in the air is whether the targets would be voluntary or mandatory.

What is clear is this: The average Canadian adult consumes "harmful" levels of sodium each day - about 3,400 mg, far exceeding the recommended limit of 2,300 mg. A highsodium diet increases the risk of high blood pressure, a major cause of stroke and cardiovascular disease.

Bringing Canadians' intake within the recommended range of 1,500 and 2,300 mg could reduce cardiovascular disease by 13 per cent each year, according to Health Canada - an annual health-care savings of about $1.3-billion.

With Ottawa's plan still in its early stages, "everything is on the table," said Alfred Aziz, chief of nutrition regulations and standards at Health Canada. "Our objective is to reduce risk to health caused by excessive sodium intake. Whichever measure will help us get there, we'll be looking at those measures."

But as Mr. Olson can attest, they'll have a fight ahead of them. Restaurants have long cited a list of challenges - everything from their complicated supply chains (especially for some multinational restaurant companies) to consumer tastes to the centuries-old traditions that govern chefs and their use of salt.

"Chefs are the most stubborn [people] on the planet," said Mr.

Olson, who teaches at the Canadian Food and Wine Institute in Niagara, Ont. "If somebody comes in and tells them not to use [an ingredient], they will make it a mission of theirs to use as much as they can."

'Long overdue' Several years ago, University of Toronto professor Mary L'Abbé began compiling data on the sodium content of food in Canadian restaurants. She was stunned by what she found.

In her 2013 study, she found that at 19 popular sit-down chain restaurants, the average meal contained 151 per cent the amount of sodium recommended - for an entire day.

Even some side dishes exceeded the daily limit. The same was true with some children's menu items.

A quick scan of many chain restaurants' websites echoes this. Most major chains post nutritional information about their menu items on their websites - and in Ontario, some of that information (calorie counts, but not sodium) is required to be printed on the menu.

At the Joey chain restaurants, the rotisserie chicken has 3,840 mg of sodium - more than 1,500 mg above the recommended limit. The Montreal smoked-meat sandwich at Boston Pizza has 3,030 mg.

Fast-food restaurants fared only a bit better. At Thai Express, the tom yum soup meal contains 2,900 mg of sodium. At Pizza Hut, a single slice of thin-crust Pepperoni Lover's pizza has more than 500 mg.

Even seemingly healthy options make up a high proportion of the daily sodium limit. The Mediterranean bowl of quinoa, olives and vegetables at Freshii accounts for almost 65 per cent of the daily recommended sodium limit.

Part of the problem is the ingredients themselves. Many restaurants rely on prepackaged or processed ingredients, which are already high in sodium.

In other cases, restaurants (and consumers) may not be aware of the sodium contained in certain ingredients. A cup of milk, for example, contains more than 100 mg of naturally occurring sodium. Bread and other baked goods are high in sodium, too. This helps to explain why a hot chocolate or a blueberry danish at McDonald's has more sodium than an order of french fries.

To address this, Health Canada set voluntary targets back in 2012 for packaged and processed foods - the results of which have yet to be released.

But the restaurants themselves have just as large of a part to play, says Dr. L'Abbé, who chairs the department of nutritional sciences at the University of Toronto.

"Establishing sodium-reduction targets for the restaurant and foodservice industry is long overdue," she said. Almost one-third of Canadian household budgets are now spent on eating out. And at restaurants, unlike with packaged foods, nutritional information isn't always publicly available, making it even more difficult for customers to make healthy decisions.

Still, she added, "better late than never."

Canada is not alone. In the United States, the average sodium intake is 3,435 mg a day. In 2008, the sodium intake in Turkey was an astounding 7,200 mg a day.

Around the world, countries have taken varied approaches to tackling the problem. In Argentina, the government turned to regulation, including a law requiring restaurants to include no-salt-added items on their menus. Britain has set voluntary targets for industry - but with close government monitoring.

And the United States last year proposed voluntary "guidelines" for the major restaurant chains.

In Canada, attempts at regulation have seen fits and starts. More than a decade ago, the Harper government assembled a "sodium working group," which eventually recommended voluntary targets for restaurants. But the recommendation was never adopted.

Norm Campbell, a professor of medicine at the University of Calgary, was a member of that working group. The restaurant industry at the time, he said, was "pretty adamantly against the targets and timelines." Out of all the groups around the table, "the restaurants were least co-operative."

With the salt issue back on the agenda, Dr. Campbell said he still thinks a mixed approach would be best.

He'd like to see voluntary targets in Canada phased in over time, with close monitoring by the government.

Those targets would eventually become mandatory, to ensure a level playing field across the industry.

But, "it all depends," he said, "on whether the restaurants co-operate."

'That'll be a battle' Two years ago, restaurants across the country received a guide, titled "How to reduce sodium in menu items." The 19-page booklet was produced by Restaurants Canada, the lobbying group that represents some 30,000 restaurants across the country, including some of the largest chains. With its publication, the group hoped to show that the restaurant industry was already working to reduce sodium - that it was doing this voluntarily, without mandatory targets. According to the group, the top-10 menu items at its members' restaurants saw a decrease in sodium of about 17 per cent over the past seven years - changes that were made voluntarily.

The booklet discussed restaurants' role in reducing salt and included a range of tips. "Ingredients such as cheese, bacon or croutons can add a substantial amount of sodium," it said. "Consider reducing the amount used or removing them altogether."

Another suggestion was to "dilute soy sauce used in recipes and food preparation methods with water."

And another: "Do not add salt to cooking water for boiling potatoes, pasta or rice."

For Mr. Olson, all of the suggestions gave him pause. But it was the last one that really worried him.

"To get everyone to stop putting salt in their pasta water," he said, before letting out a sigh. "That'll be a battle."

The practice of salting pasta water - and many other principles surrounding salt, he said, are "foundational" in professional kitchens.

"Every time we blanch vegetables, every time we cook pasta, we season the water."

For chefs, salt serves a number of functions. It reduces bitterness in food. It enhances the other tastes - sweet, sour, umami. To many chefs, salt is what makes food taste good.

Described by elBulli chef Ferran Adria, salt is "the only product that changes cuisine."

For the restaurant industry, this has long been its main argument against mandatory targets. People like salt, it says - or at the very least, they have grown accustomed to it.

Add to that the perception that eating out is a "treat," and this explains why restaurants and chefs have long felt entitled to be so liberal with salt.

This is why, according to Restaurants Canada, that despite the industry's efforts, much of it is still dependent on consumer tastes. It's also why the industry has traditionally been opposed to mandatory targets.

"We're prepared to work with [Health Canada], provided that we can get customers on-board," said Joyce Reynolds, Restaurants Canada's executive vice-president of government affairs. "Customers will indicate they are interested in reducing sodium, but what our members find is what customers say they want and what they actually want is not the same."

Some restaurants have experimented with low-sodium items in the past, Ms. Reynolds said - only to have to remove those items because of lack of demand.

Still, studies show that what customers want can change.

According to the Harvard School of Public Health, the average person often cannot taste a difference when salt is reduced in a dish - by as much as 25 per cent. Studies have shown that when salt is reduced gradually over time, customers' sense of taste adjusts, as does their preference for salt.

But other challenges exist, too, Ms. Reynolds said. For the larger, multinational restaurant chains, the reformulation of menu items represents a hornet's nest of logistical challenges. For some restaurant companies, she said "they're looking at these issues globally. They're not just looking at them here in Canada."

And for the major chains, sodium represents a labour issue - using preseasoned, prepared or processed ingredients means the restaurants can get by with lower-skilled workers in their kitchens.

For the smaller, independent and chef-run restaurants, meanwhile, even measuring sodium is a challenge. Short of lab-testing, it can be difficult to calculate sodium levels, including the amounts inherent to raw ingredients. Plus, as Mr. Olson highlighted, many cooks in these smaller, independent restaurants do not rely on recipes, but go by taste, touch and feel.

Despite all this, Mr. Olson said he agrees with the goal of making restaurant food healthier. He hopes that other chefs will come around, too.

"I think there's an opportunity to change our attitudes," he said. In his own kitchen, instead of reaching for the salt, he's increasingly using lemon or hot sauce to finish a dish.

Sometimes, he'll throw in a "textural" element instead, such as crunchy breadcrumbs.

Canadians are eating out routinely now and not just on special occasions, he said. And restaurants need to be mindful of this.

"As professional cooks," he said, "we can't continue in the same effort of making every meal someone's death-row dinner."

Associated Graphic


Top theologian was a voice for modernity
He took controversial positions, such as defending 'the ethical status of homosexual love,' and later revealed he was gay
Special to The Globe and Mail
Saturday, October 28, 2017 – Print Edition, Page S12

Gregory Baum was one of Roman Catholicism's outstanding theologians of the 20th century, who let the Holy Spirit - rather than the institutional church - direct his restless, curious mind and could never understand why it landed him so consistently in controversy, criticism and vilification.

He called himself "the first Catholic theologian who publicly defended the ethical status of homosexual love." He was reputed to be the author - certainly he was involved with the production - of the Winnipeg Statement of 1968 that distanced Canada's Catholic bishops from Pope Paul VI's July, 1968, encyclical Humanae vitae, which prohibited artificial contraception.

Dr. Baum's writings were accepting of liberation theology in the face of condemnation from the Vatican. He wrote on the works of tendentious Islamic reformer Tariq Ramadan. He was one of the church's most eloquent and uncompromising advocates for social justice and society's marginalized groups. He authored articles and books sympathetically explaining Quebec separatism to anglophone Canadians.

Although he was born into a Protestant Jewish family, he was drawn to Catholicism and the seminary in his 20s. He later left active priesthood and, in 1978, married a former nun. His autobiography, The Oil Has Not Run Dry: The Story of My Theological Pathway, published last year, revealed he was gay and had, in his 40s, a sexual relationship with a man.

"I did not profess my own homosexuality in public," he wrote, "because such an act of honesty would have reduced my influence as a critical theologian."

Indeed, throughout his adult life, he was one of the church's great theologians on ecumenism, a fact that was noted in the citation when he was named an officer of the Order of Canada in 1990. As one of the Second Vatican Council's periti (expert theologians) in the 1960s, he wrote an early draft of Nostra Aetate (In Our Time) - "The Declaration on the Relation of the Church with Non-Christian Religions" - that moved the church into the sunlight of accepting the unified spiritual goals of all humankind and especially the bonds between Christians and Jews, ending the church's centuries-old branding of Jews as the killers of Jesus Christ.

He believed it was essential for the Catholic Church to change, to let power devolve from Rome. Well before the clerical sex-abuse scandal erupted, he diagnosed the church as "a company that becomes so big that it can't be run any more." Any management consultant, he wrote, would take one look at the church and would say, "This is simply impossible. You have to decentralize, you have to delegate. You need a different system."

After studying for two years at New York's New School for Social Research in the 1970s, he pioneered the introduction of sociology to religion, embracing the teachings and writings of political theorist Hannah Arendt and classical sociologists Marx, Tocqueville, Durkheim, Weber among others.

At the core of his theological convictions - and explaining so much of what he did - lay the writings of the early-20th-century French philosopher Maurice Blondel. They led to what may have been his most important book, Man Becoming: God in Secular Language, assessing positively Blondel's acknowledgment of God's redemptive presence in human history.

God, in other words, existed in the nitty-gritty of life - an "insider God," as Toronto's Regis College academic Mary Jo Leddy explained Dr. Baum's view. You fall in love?

That's God at work.

God was on the ground with grace - the benevolence shown by God toward the human race, the spontaneous gift from God to people, "generous, free and totally unexpected and undeserved."

As leading Canadian Catholic Church scholar Michael Higgins wrote of Dr. Baum six years ago, the embrace of Blondel's thought "proved to be Baum's Copernican revolution. Henceforth his writing, research, teaching, and activism would be shaped by Blondel's views: his theological anthropology; his rejection of the church's negative valuation of the secular; his belief in the ubiquity of grace.

"It was not a big step," Dr. Higgins said, "from Baum's adoption of Blondel's inclusivity to his realization that God is mediated by all kinds of things besides the institutional church." Not a big step for Dr. Baum, but a step many others could never take.

Dr. Baum died on Oct. 18 in Montreal of kidney failure. He was 94.

When he had entered hospital several days earlier, he told friends he was "disappearing inside." Those, such as Dr. Leddy, who came from across Central and Eastern Canada to visit him in his last days found him sunny, genial and serene as death approached.

Blondel's impact was the goalpost in the evolution of Dr. Baum's thought - the finish line to the formal shaping of his mind. The whole journey of his life was an opening of his thought to God's presence in history exhibiting an inclusiveness that outreached the writ of the institutional church.

Gerhard Albert Baum was born in Berlin on June 20, 1923, to Bettie (née Meyer) and Franz Siegfried Baum. His well-to-do Protestant father died early and his Jewish mother had a passion for medieval art and Gothic and Romanesque architecture, to which she introduced her son.

At the outbreak of the Second World War, she made the choice to send her 17-year-old son to England to escape persecution under the Nazi race laws. She never saw him again.

As a nurse, she became infected with pneumonia in the hospital where she worked and died during the war.

When he arrived, the teenager was interned by the British along with other German older teens and adults - many of them scholars who became volunteer teachers in the internship camps, which enthused him.

He was transferred in 1940 to an internship camp in Quebec. He came to the attention of a woman active in volunteer work who sponsored him to attend McMaster University in Hamilton, where he studied mathematics and physics.

He also began reading Catholic thinkers Thomas Aquinas and Étienne Gilson, who established the Pontifical Institute of Medieval Studies at University of Toronto.

One Christmas, he was given a gift of The Confessions of St. Augustine, the autobiography of the great Church Father detailing, among other things, his conversion to Christianity - and the young student was hooked. In the year he graduated from McMaster, 1946, he decided to enter the Augustinian religious order to become a priest.

At this point he adopted the name Gregory.

After ordination, he was sent by his order to Switzerland's University of Fribourg for graduate studies. Along the way, he read a book on the Catholic Church's treatment of Jews and was appalled.

His dissertation, touching on the subject, was completed in 1956 and published two years later under the title That They May Be One: A Study of Papal Doctrine (Leo XIII-Pius XII).

The dissertation came to the attention of German Jesuit Cardinal Augustin Bea and Dutch priest Johannes Willebrands, president and secretary respectively of the Vatican's newly established Secretariat for Christian Unity. They admired the book, and Dr. Baum found himself appointed to the Secretariat, assigned to help prepare for the Second Vatican Council announced by Pope John XXIII in 1959.

Dr. Baum later told the story of Cardinal Bea, during the Council years, assigning his staff to guard their manuscripts until they got to the translators and were published, to save them from being snatched and their texts altered by church conservatives.

Nostra Aetate was easily one of the most important and - particularly with its section on the Catholic Church's relationship with Jews - one of the most controversial documents to emerge from the Second Vatican Council. It made Gregory Baum's name as a theologian and confirmed him as a leading interpreter of the council's accomplishments.

It also established him as a clear spokesman and writer on the church in the modern world - a role which he carried out for five years, on Cardinal Bea's instructions, travelling around North America giving talks on the council's work before taking up a professorship at University of St.

Michael's College at the University of Toronto.

The church was unable to contain his application of Blondellian thought and roaming intellectual curiosity.

Michael Higgins wrote of him, "Baum defines himself not as a theological shaper or foundational thinker, but as a journalist following his curiosity wherever it leads him.

"To Baum, one should note, 'journalist' does not betoken a scribbler with a deadline, but rather someone inexhaustibly fascinated with ideas, intellectual trends, and currents." In an interview, Dr. Higgins called him an experimenter and explorer.

University of Toronto's Prof. Stephen Scharper, a scholar in anthropology, environment and religion who did his doctorate under Dr.

Baum's supervision, described his work as "being attentive to where the Spirit was calling him."

It called him repeatedly into controversy and censure, from which Dr. Baum never flinched.

He was thunderously criticized by the church hierarchy and had restrictions placed on his teaching after publicly dissenting from the Vatican's 1976 Declaration on Sexual Ethics, with its strictures against homosexuality.

He was censured for declaring that the church was not immune from the social and institutional toxins that infect other organizations.

He himself openly criticized the church governance of Popes John Paul II and Benedict XVI - the latter who as Cardinal Joseph Ratzinger led the Vatican's powerful Congregation for the Doctrine of the Faith, the church's thought police (and whom Dr. Baum knew well as a fellow peritus at Vatican 2).

His frequent public speeches, to say the least, got up the nose of his superiors (his 1987 Massey Lecture explored liberation theology and its justifying biblical exegesis, much of which the Vatican considered Marxist).

Dr. Baum's openness toward the ordination of women and gay marriage also made him a target for conservatives.

The mildest of his critics labelled him a dilettante driven by mere trendy nonconformism.

In the late 1970s, he was summoned by his Augustinian order under direction from Rome to return to the order's monastery which he refused to do.

He eventually withdrew from active priestly ministry and accepted a teaching position at McGill University after reaching the thenmandatory age of 65 retirement at University of Toronto. In 1978, he married former nun Shirley Flynn.

Her death in 2007 left him grieving her loss for the remainder of his life.

His departure from the priesthood was a mystery to many who knew him, until the publication of his 2016 autobiography revealed that he left the church because of his personal commitment to being gay.

Even before this revelation, he had long been demonized by conservative Catholics for his writings and teachings. A 2012 interview on Salt + Life Catholic TV that he did with its chief executive, Rev. Thomas Rosica, generated hundreds of furious, outraged e-mails. "Yet, Gregory was a very significant theologian of the Second Vatican Council," Father Rosica said. "We owe much to him for his role in the decree of ecumenism and interfaith relations."

To submit an I Remember: Send us a memory of someone we have recently profiled on the Obituaries page. Please include I Remember in the subject field.

Associated Graphic

The writing of Roman Catholic theologian Gregory Baum, seen in the early seventies, took cues from French philosopher Maurice Blondel. Dr. Baum's Man Becoming: God in Secular Language, assessed positively Blondel's acknowledgment of God's redemptive presence in human history.


Rivalry leaves Lebanon on tenterhooks
PM's shock resignation brings stark reminder to people in diverse country that they're stuck in the middle of regional power struggle
Saturday, November 18, 2017 – Print Edition, Page A4

BEIRUT -- Enormous posters of Saad al-Hariri, the popular Lebanese Prime Minister who mysteriously vanished two weeks ago, only to surface in Saudi Arabia, hang almost everywhere in central Beirut. Mr. al-Hariri abruptly resigned while in the Saudi capital, but the Lebanese want him back and, by Friday, their man had still not made it home.

Most Lebanese, regardless of sect in this impossibly diverse and complicated Levant country, viewed Mr. al-Hariri's disappearance as a Saudiinspired coup d'état. Why else would the government head of an allegedly sovereign state resign in another country?

The answer was obvious to the Lebanese. Lebanon is not really sovereign; it is a proxy state, caught in the middle of a power struggle between Shia Iran and Sunni Saudi Arabia, with no control over its destiny. "We're a small country in a bad neighbourhood waiting for everyone else to make decisions for us," said Riad Tabbarah, an economist and author who was the Lebanese ambassador to the United States in the 1990s. "No major decisions are made internally here. We're merely observers."

Mr. al-Hariri's resignation in Riyadh, the Saudi capital, on Nov. 4 was evidently forced by the Saudis and has, once again, thrust Lebanon into political crisis. Lebanon's future has not looked so uncertain since the chaotic and violent era of 2005 to 2008. In those years, the country was shattered by the assassination of former prime minister Rafik alHariri, the father of Saad al-Hariri; a short but devastating war in southern Lebanon between Hezbollah, the Iranian-backed political and military group in Lebanon, and Israel; and deadly clashes between Hezbollah and Sunni militiamen in West Beirut.

While the Lebanese do not expect another civil or regional war, at least not imminently, they are well aware that peace cannot be assured as tensions between the dominant regional powers, Iran and Saudi Arabia, intensify by the day. Riyadh blames Iran and Hezbollah for threatening Saudi Arabia's southern flank by sponsoring a war in Yemen, one that has embroiled the Saudis in a two-year conflict that has turned into a humanitarian catastrophe. It appears the Saudis think Mr. alHariri was overaccommodating to Hezbollah even though he, who is Sunni and leads Lebanon's Future Movement, has links to Saudi Arabia and has denounced Hezbollah as a destabilizing force within Lebanon.

Earlier this month, the Saudis accused Iran of an "act of war" when they shot down a missile over Saudi Arabia that they claimed was fired by Iranian- and Hezbollahbacked Houthi rebels in Yemen.

"Whenever we see a problem, we see Hezbollah acting as an arm or agent of Iran and this has to come to an end," Saudi Foreign Minister Adel al-Jubeir said at a Riyadh news conference on Thursday.

When asked about the future of their country, Lebanese inevitably sprinkle their comments with references to Saudi Arabia, Iran, Israel and the United States. The message: We Lebanese are merely pawns in a great regional power struggle.

Nivine Apdsouki, 30, a Beirut accountant, blames the Saudis for Lebanon's sudden bout of political instability. "It is obvious the Saudis put him under pressure to quit," she said, as she perched on a bench and fiddled with her smartphone. "The Saudis are talking about war to make Hezbollah give up their weapons and Hariri can't make Hezbollah do that."

The fresh crisis seemed to come out of nowhere and was triggered by Mr. al-Hariri's absence without leave. Most Lebanese assume he was under effective house arrest in Riyadh and will return to Lebanon only under terms set by Saudi Arabia's King Salman and his son, Mohammed bin Salman, who became Crown Prince in June and set his sights on stemming Hezbollah's power. The Saudis consider Hezbollah, whose flag is almost identical to the one used by Iran's Revolutionary Guard, as a terrorist group "that kidnapped the Lebanese regime," to use Mr. al-Jubeir's words.

This week, French President Emmanuel Macron, who went to Riyadh to try to encourage the Saudi rulers to ratchet down the tensions between Lebanon and Saudi Arabia, invited Mr. al-Hariri and his family to Paris, although the Élysée Palace denied the French government was offering them exile. (France, which occupied Lebanon between the two world wars, maintains close relations with Lebanon, where French is still widely spoken.)

Mr. al-Hariri, 47, who was born in Saudi Arabia and is a dual LebaneseSaudi national, was finally expected to arrive in Paris on Friday night or Saturday and make an undignified return to Beirut early in the week.

But to do what? Would he officially submit his resignation to Lebanese President Michel Aoun and flee to France or stay put to lead a caretaker government? Would the government collapse and would new elections succeed in diluting Hezbollah's powerful influence in the Lebanese parliament or reinforce it?

Some lawmakers believe the delicate neutrality cobbled together under Mr. al-Hariri - neither officially pro-Iran nor pro-Saudi Arabia (even if certain parties overtly favour one over the other) - is about to face its most severe test.

"We are a bargaining chip in potentially destructive regional conflict," said Ghassan Moukheiber, a lawmaker who is a member of the Change and Reform parliamentary group, which is aligned with Mr. Aoun's Maronite Christian Free Patriotic Movement. "Saudi Arabia is apparently now saying, 'You are with us or against us,' but that won't work in Lebanon. The next phase for us will have to be the redefinition of what is meant by neutrality."

Lebanon has always been a governance nightmare. This tiny, ancient country, wedged between Syria and Israel on the eastern shore of the Mediterranean, was a major Christian centre during the waning stages of the Roman Empire. In later centuries, the Levant (which includes modern-day Lebanon and Syria) was conquered by Muslim Arab armies. In the 11th century, the independent Druze faith, which contains elements of Christianity, Judaism and Islam, emerged from Shia Islam.

Today, Lebanon is a mosaic of more than a dozen sects, making it the most religiously diverse country in the Middle East. While no recent census has been done, Islam, of the Sunni and Shia variety, is thought to constitute a bit more than half the population, with Christians such as the Maronites making up about 40 per cent. The Druze are the biggest minority group, at about 5 per cent.

The sects have not always been able to keep the peace. The extremely violent 1975-90 civil war not only pitted Muslims against Christians (and, at times, Christians against Christians and Muslims against Muslims) but dragged in foreign powers, notably Syria and Israel. Hezbollah was born in the early 1980s, when Iran assembled various militant Shia groups under one roof, primarily to resist the Israelis, who had invaded Lebanon in 1982 in their effort to snuff out Palestine Liberation Organization forces.

Since then, Hezbollah, backed by Iran, has gone from strength to strength inside Lebanon, becoming in effect a state within a state. Hezbollah fighters deprived Israel of a clear victory in 2006, when Israel invaded southern Lebanon in response to Hezbollah rocket attacks.

"The Israelis were not successful in 2006," said Kamel Wazne, a foreignpolicy analyst in Beirut. "Hezbollah is 10 times stronger than they were in 2006. They're better trained, have weapons that can reach anywhere inside of Israel and gained a lot of fighting experience in their confrontations in Syria against Daesh [Islamic State]."

Today, Lebanon has accommodated its sects through a delicate power-sharing agreement that came into place after the civil war. Lebanon's presidential post is reserved for a Maronite Christian, the prime minister's post goes to a Sunni and the president of parliament, or Speaker, is Shia. Broadly speaking, the parties are divided into pro-Iranian and pro-Saudi camps. Mr. al-Hariri is in the pro-Saudi camp and Mr. Aoun, the President, has an alliance with Hezbollah.

Somehow, the power balance has managed to work in recent years.

Mr. al-Hariri, who became Prime Minister in December, 2016, was given considerable credit for ensuring the unity government, and the country itself, did not come apart at the seams - hence his cross-party popularity. But that peace may not last as Hezbollah gains power and irks the Saudis, who have been trying to forge an anti-Hezbollah alliance with Israel and the United States as the war in Yemen bogs down.

Samy Gemayel, leader of the Lebanese Kataeb Party, a social-democratic party that is primarily supported by Maronite Catholics and which used to be called the Lebanese Phalanges Party, said Hezbollah's power within the government is underestimated. By his calculation, 17 of the 30 current cabinet ministers are pro-Hezbollah. "No government in Lebanon is formed without the approval of Hezbollah," he said. "Now, they are the decision makers. Lebanon is not a Sunni-Shia issue. It's a sovereignty issue. ... We totally support any pressure to end Iranian interference in this country."

How would that happen? Not fast and not easily, seems to be the consensus. Even some pro-Saudi parties think Iran would never allow Hezbollah to be neutered. "Hezbollah will not disappear and will not leave Syria or Yemen," said Rached Fayed, a member of Mr. al-Hariri's Future Movement policy-making committee.

Ahead of the weekend, it was not known whether Mr. al-Hariri would have any role in shaping the crucial, although perhaps hopeless, task of keeping both Iran and Saudi Arabia happy in a country they both consider their vassal state. Lebanese politicians and technocrats of every variety expect him to officially resign as Prime Minister once he reaches Beirut - the President did not recognize the shock resignation Mr. al-Hariri announced on Saudi TV in Riyadh.

It's an open question what will happen after that. The President might ask him to lead a caretaker government leading up to new elections. He might, and run again for Prime Minister. Or he might decide he can't please either side and quit politics, leaving it up to his successor to sort out the Lebanese mess.

The wild card is Saudi Arabia's Crown Prince, Mohammed, who might have zero tolerance for any Lebanese government that doesn't rein in Hezbollah. "The Saudis wanted Hariri to kick Hezbollah out of government," said Mr. Tabbarah, the former ambassador. "The Saudi Crown Prince has a new view of the role of Saudi Arabia and it's an aggressive one."

In the meantime, the Lebanese are on tenterhooks, unsure whether their country will have a prime minister of a functioning government in the next weeks or whether the power struggle between Iran and Saudi Arabia could leave Lebanon in tatters - peace always seems to be a short-lived commodity in this country.

Perched with his girlfriend on his scooter next to Beirut's Mediterranean promenade, the Corniche, Iyad Hassanieh, 37, a supermarket employee, said he fears foreign powers have pushed his country to the precipice once again. "Saudi Arabia is making plans to control the entire Middle East and Israel is behind this plan," he said. "I think there will be a disaster. There is always a disaster here."

Associated Graphic

Lebanese Prime Minister Saad al-Hariri, who is depicted on a poster in Beirut on Friday, enjoys cross-party popularity for his role in keeping the peace among the country's many religious sects.


Raptors in a full-court press to advance women
Among NBA teams - indeed, among most pro-sports leagues - the Toronto club stands out in the way it is actively diversifying its management ranks
Saturday, November 18, 2017 – Print Edition, Page S1

TORONTO -- Amanda Joaquim remembers eagerly reading through a job posting for a physiotherapist with the Toronto Raptors, mentally checking off each of the required qualifications.

Got that. Got that. Got that, too.

The posting seemed to describe her skills and clinical experience perfectly. Working with NBA players sounded like a dream job to the physiotherapist who had played sports all her life and built a career treating athletes of all ages. Confident in her qualifications, she didn't hesitate to apply. But she was curious how the team might feel about a woman doing this job.

"I didn't know what it was like inside the team, so I wondered what the culture might be and if gender might play a role in getting the job or not," Joaquim said. "I'm a small woman, and I would be working with very big guys."

Alex McKechnie, the Raptors director of sports science, conducted a lengthy search for a physiotherapist with specific expertise and was inundated with highquality candidates. Joaquim stood out. The Whitby, Ont., native, had treated a wide array of people, including many players from a junior football team, the Oshawa Hawkeyes. The Raptors needed someone who could add insights to the medical staff and interact with players on a daily basis, in Toronto and on the road.

"I had to find someone who would be comfortable working in our locker room and could earn the players' trust," McKechnie said. "Personality-wise, Amanda came in and filled the room. She was without question the best candidate."

While Joaquim is one of the most recently hired women, she's not the only one working for the Raptors. There are 11 women working for Toronto or its affiliate, Raptors 905. Others work in basketball operations, player development, coaching, analytics, team services, community relations, nutrition and communications. There's also a female radio play-byplay broadcaster calling 905 games.

Joaquim first joined the Raptors at Summer League in Las Vegas and was introduced to many staffers for the first time during a team dinner. She had assumed a critical role: to help prevent Raptors players from missing games because of injury.

"I knew I would be comfortable in the treatment room - I'm in my element working hands-on with athletes," said Joaquim on a game night at the Air Canada Centre, after putting several Raptors through pregame exercises. "But I was surprised at how welcoming everyone was.

There's a real emphasis here on respect and family and inclusion."

The Raptors advocate for hiring women and hope to see more of it in the world of professional sports.

Recently, the Raptors, along with Maple Leaf Sports and Entertainment, held the first in what it hopes will be a series of speaking events hosted by the team's female leaders.

The event highlighted the careers of the women and encouraged more women to consider sports jobs, and more sport organizations to hire them. Informally dubbed "She the North," the event had hundreds in the audience.

Joaquim was one of several panelists that night. Raptors president Masai Ujiri spoke, too. He called it one of his proudest moments on the job and said he wished to see a female general manager in the NBA some day, hoping that women would come from within the Raptors organization.

It's hard to compare the number of women in Toronto's organization to those at other NBA teams since many different staff structures exist across the league, with some clubs sharing staff among various teams or venues, or hiring consultants. But the Raptors are one of the NBA's most progressive when it comes to hiring women.

However, every year the Institute for Diversity and Ethics in Sport at the University of Central Florida conducts a diversity study called the Lapchick Report on many pro-sports leagues. It shows that women are nowhere near being equally represented in jobs with the NBA or its teams - but the NBA leads other men's pro sports leagues.

According to the 2017 Lapchick Racial and Gender Report Card on the NBA, women held 24.2 per cent of team vice-president positions last season, 29.3 per cent of senior-administration jobs and 40 per cent of team professional-administration roles. Also, there were six women who served as team president or chief executive, the most in men's pro sports.

When the Raptors hired Ujiri in 2013, there was only one woman working day-to-day with the team staff, team-services manager Doreen Doyle.

That number has risen in the years since, especially this season. Several women were recently added, including Joaquim, Brittni Donaldson in basketball analytics, and Jennifer Quinn as the new director of communications, the head liaison connecting players and coaches with the media every day.

The club said it didn't specifically recruit women.

"Now we have 11 women here, and that's unique and I'm proud of that," Ujiri told The Globe and Mail in an interview at his office last week. "We didn't pick them because they are women; they all had exceptional stories and qualifications that brought them here. Yes, we are noticing that our candidate pool is diversifying, and that has a lot to do with Toronto, a great metropolitan city. I hope it translates into a great culture and a winning team on the court."

Several female employees sat for an interview with The Globe in the dining room of the Raps' practice facility, enjoying a lunch prepared by the team chef. Among them was the vice-president of basketball operations and player development, Teresa Resch, the first person Ujiri had called with a job offer after the Raptors hired him in 2013.

The native of Lakefield, Minn., played college volleyball, got an MBA and interned with Disney's ESPN Wide World of Sports, the Miami Heat and the Orange Bowl committee before working at the NBA office, and as senior operating manager for the popular Ultimate Hoops program across Life Time fitness clubs. Ujiri had worked with Resch on the NBA's Basketball Without Borders program.

Today, her role is essentially that of Ujiri's chief of staff, acting as the liaison between the Raptors and MLSE and ensuring everyone has the resources they need. She was key in bringing the new practice facility to life. "These days, almost anything our players, coaches or front-office staff are doing, they're almost always interacting with women, and there is a lot of diversity of thought here," Resch said. "We're trying to build a network of people supporting diversity and inclusion and create advocates for the advancement of women. To do that, you need to tell the stories of the impact those women are making."

Shelby Weaver was another woman around the lunch table. The Halifax native began as an administrative assistant at MLSE in 2011 and pitched in on big Raptors projects. Her natural communication with players was a big reason why Ujiri asked her to be the first manager of basketball operations for Raptors 905 in 2015, then promoted her to a player-development role with the Raptors this season.

"For some reason, it's often hard for us as women to actually say it, but I'd love to be a GM some day," Weaver said. "We see lots of women working on the business side in sports, but why aren't there more women working on the team side?

I'd like to learn why. I'd like to know if women realize they can engage more with the team side."

Donaldson, recently hired for the Raps' analytics team, said many are surprised when they hear about her job. The native of Sioux City, Iowa, studied actuarial science and played college basketball at the University of Northern Iowa before working with sports stats for data provider Stats LLC.

"I can remember one player at first actually saying, 'Analytics? But you're a girl?' and then quickly it was like, 'okay, that's different, but that's cool,' " Donaldson said. "Once I was able to establish that I have a foundation in this, that I can talk basketball, that I belong here, the players and coaches have been great with me. I've recently had some young women approach me and say, 'Wow I have an actuarial-science degree too, and I had no idea a job like this existed.' " Later that night, a number of Raptors staffers made the trip to Mississauga for the 905 home opener, where there were also women on the training and coaching staffs.

On the team bench, 905 assistant coach Nicki Gross sat directly to the left of head coach Jerry Stackhouse.

The multisport athlete from Emerson, N.J., played college soccer at Seton Hall, and managed the men's basketball team while getting her MBA at Monmouth University. She interned at NBA Summer League and worked for the G-League Iowa Energy before Stackhouse hired her last year. Aside from using a different dressing room to change from her warmup athletic clothing to her game-time business attire, she says her gender has no impact on her job.

"I want to coach in the NBA one day, but I'm in no rush because I love working for Stack and I'm learning so much because he's got me playing so many different roles here," said Gross in the back hallways of the Hershey Centre after the game. "I'm learning from an NBA all-star every day who is smart as hell with the Xs and Os."

On any given day at a Raptors or 905 practice or game, several women are watching from sidelines, stands or through the glass of their offices.

"It works for our team; it's refreshing to have women around and it's not weird; I don't really think of it as a thing at all," said Raptors guard Fred Van Vleet. "This is my first NBA team, so it's all I've ever known in the league. We're a very diverse organization - men, women, players from many different countries with different points of view. It makes for a special place."

Another She The North event is slated for January when the organization plays host to the G-League Showcase, a notable scouting event for NBA teams.

"It's a copycat league, and I hope everyone copies what we're doing with those events," Ujiri said. "I want our women to be exposed, for people to know the work they do. I hesitate to advertise them too much because I don't want people to come and take them away from us, but these women are tough, and I'm ready to go to war with them."

Associated Graphic

Raptors physiotherapist Amanda Joaquim admits that 'I'm a small woman, and I would be working with very big guys,' but felt she could help the team. Those are centre Lucas Nogueira's legs during a pregame warmup.


Coach Dwane Casey shares a lighter moment with Jennifer Quinn, the Raptors' director of communications.


Vice-president of basketball operations and player development Teresa Resch, left, says the Raptors are looking to build 'a network of people supporting diversity and inclusion.'

Basketball analytics expert Brittni Donaldson watches a Raptors practice. She is one of 11 women who have prominent roles with the team.

Robo-advisers reach beyond millennials
An increasing number of older investors are finding that digital wealth managers are better geared toward their financial needs
Saturday, October 28, 2017 – Print Edition, Page B9

After discovering that he was paying more than $20,000 a year in fees, Bruce Pinn, a 57-yearold executive from Toronto, decided to make a drastic move and fire his investment adviser of 18 years.

While turning to a do-it-yourself online broker platform would have been a logical next step for someone conscious of fees, it didn't hold much appeal for Mr. Pinn, a selfdescribed "invest and forget" investor. Instead, he decided to move his entire portfolio of more than $500,000 to Nest Wealth, a robo-adviser platform that is costing him less than $6,000 a year in fees, and will automatically rebalance his portfolio as the market changes.

When robo-advisers first launched, they were seen as a tech fad for millennial investors. But now, people such as Mr. Pinn, who belong to an older demographic, are turning to their services. The average age of clients among the 14 robo-advisers now in the Canadian marketplace is about 44 years old.

In the United States, a majority of robo-adviser investors do not fall within the millennial category as 48 per cent of them are over the age of 36, according to market-research firm Accenture.

Robo-advisers - also referred to as online wealth managers or digital advisers - are just beginning to gain traction in the Canadian financial arena. There are now more than double the number of robo-advisers as there were just three years ago.

These web-based platforms offer clients an online risk-assessment tool, which very quickly calculates an appropriate asset allocation based on age, financial goals and risk tolerance. Investors also have the option of speaking to a human portfolio manager throughout the process. The results provide clients with a recommended investment portfolio predominantly made up of exchange-traded funds - all for much lower fees than usually offered by traditional financial advisers.

"Older investors are concerned about reaching their financial goals or making their savings last as long as possible," says Randy Cass, chief executive of Nest Wealth, one of the first robo-advisers to launch in Canada. "They are the perfect audience for these platforms since the lower fees can add hundreds of thousands of dollars to their savings."

While the amount of overall assets under management (AUM) of roboadvisers in Canada is not known (only one firm, Wealthsimple, has publicly announced its AUM recently hit more than $1-billion), the services are booming in the United States: the platforms held $103.3billion (U.S.) in assets under management as of June, 2017, according to a report by Corporate Insight, a market research firm in New York.

The founders of Wealthsimple initially didn't plan to market to an older generation. Instead, as millennials themselves, CEO Michael Katchen, 29, and chief investment officer Dave Nugent, 32, were looking to fill a gap they saw within their 25-to-30 age group when it came to investing.

But since launching in 2012, the company has seen a shift in its user base with more Gen X clients - the generation preceding millennials - setting up accounts, Mr. Nugent says, as well as boomers who are hearing from their children about the online wealth managers who can save them money.

Indeed, fees are the biggest driver for change among both the Gen Xers and baby boomers in North America. Ninety per cent of baby boomers rank fee structure as important when selecting a financial adviser, with 91 per cent of Gen Xers saying the same, according to a recent Accenture research study.

Traditional wealth managers charge fees between 1 per cent and 2.5 per cent. In comparison, robo-advisers charge a fraction of that, ranging between 0.2 per cent and 0.6 per cent, depending on account size.

"Today's population demands transparency and control in wealth management, just as they do in education, consumer goods and other industries," says Kendra Thompson, wealth management global lead with Accenture. "They are vocal in their desire for lower fees; no longer will loyalty keep them in one place."

Mr. Pinn admits he didn't particularly pay attention to his overall fees with his financial adviser, an oversight he now regrets.

"I've always been that person who just dumps the money in and never looks at it again," Mr. Pinn says. "As long as I've been involved with the mutual fund industry, I was just letting my adviser run the funds. I never took a second glance."

It wasn't until a phone call from his financial adviser - with a pitch for a new cheaper investment product - that the light bulb went off.

"I had been with him for 18 years and was surprised that it was the first time he was offering to save me money," Mr. Pinn says. "All of a sudden he wanted to switch me out of mutual funds - the same products he had been selling me on for years."

After hanging up the phone, Mr. Pinn took a closer look at his portfolio and discovered he was predominately invested in the bank's own mutual fund products and, despite qualifying for the high-networth funds that provide lower management fees, they were still costing him more than $20,000 a year in fees.

Recent regulatory changes that came into effect earlier this year have highlighted the dollar amount Canadian investors are paying for financial advice. For many investors, the transparency around fees has been murky at best.

Four years ago, Leonard Rempel, a 58-year old manager in the hospitality industry in Oakville, Ont., decided to dig into his own portfolio when the regulatory changes were getting attention in the media.

As a result, he discovered many of his investments were sitting in funds with a deferred sales charge (DSC), meaning he would be charged a redemption fee for taking out his funds early. (Many DSC funds have redemption fees that charge a certain percentage within the first seven years of the investment).

After calculating that his investment fees were eating up a large chunk of his profit, he knew he wanted to move away from the traditional mutual funds his adviser had put him in - which were charging 2 per cent to 2.5 per cent in fees.

Mr. Rempel decided to bite the bullet and paid out $19,500 in deferred sales charges to make the transition to a robo-adviser.

"The idea that robo-advisers are only made up of robots is a real disservice to them because I've had more one-on-one chats with the portfolio managers at Wealthsimple than any of the financial advisers I have had in the past," says Mr. Rempel, who is on track to retire in two years.

"I don't have a problem paying for a financial adviser - they have to make a living as well - but the performance has to be there, too, and I wasn't seeing that."

With a portfolio north of half a million dollars, Mr. Rempel didn't jump all in at once. He initially transferred 30 per cent of his portfolio to test out the process, and over the past year, has moved 95 per cent of his funds to the online platform. The remaining 5 per cent of his portfolio is held at a discount brokerage: "I enjoy doing some of my own investing, but I also know that I am not good enough to handle my entire portfolio," Mr. Rempel says.

"We always thought people who had reasonably straightforward requirements in their retirement years would find robos appealing because they don't actually need many of the aspects that are found with full-service offerings," Wealthsimple's Mr. Nugent says. "We're finding more investors, and older investors in particular, are recognizing that we're offering a really highvalue service ... clients are getting sophisticated advice and financial planning - they're just getting it at a lower entry point and for a lower fee."

Lowering overall fees is what drove Kent Watts to take the leap.

A 69-year old retiree, Mr. Watts stumbled upon the amount of fees he was paying while calculating what his income would be once he officially retired. He quickly realized that as a conservative investor, the money he was making on his bankowned mutual funds was being eaten up by fees.

"For the amount of money I had to play with, I didn't feel I had a lot of options other than the bank at the time, but as I approached retirement I had more time to look at my statements and I wasn't pleased with what I saw," Mr. Watt says.

Mr. Watt transferred a $25,000 taxfree savings account (TFSA) and $16,000 registered education savings plan (RESP) he has for his youngest daughter to robo-adviser Justwealth - placing one account in an equity growth portfolio and the other in a more conservative fund.

He continues to contribute $200 a month to his TFSA and is satisfied with the level of human interaction he receives - something he rarely experienced from his bank.

"Usually you fill out a form from the bank and you have to wait days before you hear anything, but I was pleasantly surprised with how quickly someone got in touch with me," Mr. Watts says. "That made the entire process really comfortable ... to have a human connection from the beginning and someone I could contact at any time if I needed help in the future."

Justwealth Financial, a robo-adviser that entered the market in 2016, has more than 50 per cent of its assets coming directly from boomer clients, where capital preservation is key to their investment strategy, CEO Andrew Kirkland says.

"These clients are entering a stage in their life where they are looking to keep more of their initial investment secure," says Mr. Kirkland, who anticipated early on that older investors would want to sign up.

"We have investment objectives that are tailored specifically for the boomer investor, for someone who is looking to live off income from their investment portfolio. We certainly didn't build these portfolios for a millennial investor."

Robo-adviser Responsive Capital Management has the highest average age of users in Canada at 50. The higher age may correlated with the higher minimums required to a open an account. Typically, robo-advisers have a $5,000 minimum, whereas Response requires $10,000 for a non-registered account and $15,000 for an RRSP.

One segment of investors joining Responsive are DIY clients from discount brokerages who no longer want to be responsible for monitoring their own investment portfolios once entering retirement.

"We are hearing from clients that they don't want to stress about markets when they are off travelling for extended periods of time or they begin to worry if their spouse would be able to manage a DIY stock portfolio if something were to happen to them," says Thomas Holloway, cofounder and portfolio manager at Responsive. "Paying an additional 50 basis points for peace of mind is exactly what these investors are looking for."

Associated Graphic

Executive Bruce Pinn, 57, seen in Toronto on Sept. 30, moved his $500,000 portfolio over to a robo-adviser platform after dissatisfaction with the fees he was paying for traditional services.



Dispute between scientists prompts review of animal monitoring program
A laboratory in Fraser Valley has been dragged into a long-running political battle over fish farms in B.C.
Saturday, October 28, 2017 – Print Edition, Page S1

VICTORIA, VANCOUVER -- For years, the little-known Animal Health Centre in the Fraser Valley has played a national role in food safety, overseeing the health of livestock, pets, wildlife and marine creatures. This week, the lab's scientists were dragged into the long-running and highly political battle over farmed fish in B.C.

The facility, in the city of Abbotsford, is in the spotlight only during the rare outbreaks of avian influenza in farmed poultry, or the detection of bovine spongiform encephalopathy - mad-cow disease - in cattle.

But a dispute between two scientists over the presence of an inflammatory disease in open-net salmon farms has triggered a probe of potential conflict of interest that has put the entire decades-old operation under a cloud.

Agriculture Minister Lana Popham says a review by the head of the B.C. civil service, Don Wright, is necessary to ensure the public can maintain confidence in the province's animal-health-monitoring program.

"The scientific community depends on integrity of results," she told reporters. "So when shadows of doubt are cast over that integrity, it's very important for us to clear it up as soon as possible."

At the heart of the clash between the two scientists is the presence of a viral disease they each detected in farmed salmon in B.C. - and whether the Animal Health Centre's work with the aquaculture industry has influenced how that disease was reported by the lab.

The lab acts as a watchdog for the B.C. agrifood industry, but it also provides fee-for-service testing for industry and other clients, billing itself as Western Canada's leading full-service veterinary laboratory. Its clients range from poultry farms to Parks Canada, and its pathologists are called on to monitor marine life in polluted waters in the oil sands and the Great Lakes.

The centre has a $7-million budget provided by government, according to the provincial Agriculture Ministry. In the 2016-17 fiscal year, clients - including agriculture producers, other governments, individual citizens and veterinary clinics - paid about $1.4-million in fees. Of that total, the three large salmon aquaculture companies operating in B.C. paid $176,000 in fees.

"They work for the ministry and they work with DFO [Department of Fisheries and Oceans] and it looks like they also work for industry," Ms. Popham said. "That's the model they have been following."

The review by Mr. Wright was announced on Wednesday, after Ms. Popham began looking into concerns raised by Kristi Miller, the head of molecular genetics for DFO's Pacific Biological Station, about a potential conflict of interest involving the Animal Health Centre's chief fish pathologist, Gary Marty.

Not a new dispute

The two scientists have a history of disagreement. A string of e-mails in 2016 offers a look into the origins of their dispute. Dr. Miller earned national media attention when she announced that her department discovered an outbreak of disease in farmed fish that led to inflammation of the heart and skeletal muscle, which can cause mortality in the fish.

That prompted Dr. Marty to challenge Dr. Miller in the e-mail exchange - obtained by The Globe and Mail and then confirmed by Dr. Marty. In his e-mail to Dr. Miller, he said he had discovered the symptoms of the disease in 2013. But the bigger issue was how that disease was characterized. Dr. Miller classified the disease as HSMI (heart and skeletal muscle inflammation) while Mr. Marty rejected that definition.

"I do not want the [DFO work] to be seen as a project that takes credit for discoveries that were previously reported by other scientists," Dr. Marty wrote to Dr. Miller. By avoiding the definition of HSMI in his work, however, the aquaculture industry in B.C. was able to say its fish were not infected with HSMI.

Dr. Miller did not return phone calls and e-mails from The Globe. Dr.

Marty, in response to written questions, told The Globe: "The heart disease is not new to B.C., just the name," he stated. "Changing the name of a disease is not a threat to wild salmon."

He said he understands why some might conclude that working with industry and serving as a public watchdog might be perceived as a conflict of interest, but he does not believe that it is.

"Worldwide, government provision of diagnostic services is a fundamental component of disease control in animals. We need to diagnose serious disease outbreaks as soon as possible, but we can do that only if all animal owners are encouraged to submit their sick animals to us for testing," he told The Globe.

"Because many animal diseases can also infect humans, early diagnosis is also a fundamental component of controlling and preventing disease in people."

Politics enters into it

The fact that Dr. Miller's concerns have prompted a review by the provincial government, in itself, has taken on a strong political hue.

The Opposition Liberals have hammered Ms. Popham over her handling of the affair, dubbing her the "minister of intimidation" for her interventions on fish-farm issues, including an earlier letter she sent to Marine Harvest, a company in the centre of a long-running protest with environmentalists and many Indigenous communities, expressing her displeasure about their decision to restock their fish farms in the midst of that dispute.

In Question Period, Liberal environment critic Peter Milobar called on Ms. Popham to be removed from decision-making around fish farms, saying she has demonstrated a bias against the industry.

"To the minister of intimidation, her bias is quite obvious, and she hasn't attempted to hide it: Will she do the responsible thing and recuse herself from the aquaculture file, given her obvious conflict of interest?" The debate about fish farms in B.C., and whether they pose a threat to wild salmon, has been brewing for decades. But the change in government this summer has given opponents of the fish farms new hope that this will be the year they force the closing of open-net farms.

Last spring, during the provincial election campaign, the NDP candidate for North Island, Claire Trevena, stood up in the Big House in the First Nations community of Alert Bay and declared that an NDP government would get rid of the disputed farms in open waters.

"We will remove fish farms, we are committed to that," she stated, "and make sure that these territories, and the North Island, are clear of fish farms."

Last week, Ms. Trevena said in an interview that she was only outlining the position of the NDP while in opposition: "What I said in the Big House is reiterating a long-standing policy, which is, we are going to work with everyone to find a solution."

The review

The Animal Health Centre is one of at least 10 such labs across Canada, says Carl Johnson, president and chief executive officer of Prairie Diagnostic Services Inc. in Saskatoon.

Mr. Johnson said Prairie Diagnostic operates in a similar fashion to the B.C. lab - it is a non-profit independent corporation, co-owned by the Province of Saskatchewan and the University of Saskatchewan. But much of its revenue comes from fees for service, largely from the veterinary profession in Saskatchewan and adjacent provinces as well as agricultural interests.

"I can understand why some folks may look at this and have some concerns about what is the private versus public interests and who gets priority and things like this, but, to be honest, I don't see this having an impact on what we do," he said in an interview. "We are treating everyone equally."

In general, Mr. Johnson said the labs contribute to food safety by identifying diseases of interest in food, whether issues are raised by the private sector, corporate farms or livestock groups. "We're going to be there to help diagnose what the risk is here in terms of the potential for it to create any food-related illness." Paul Gumprich, who has a small beef farm in the Chilliwack area and teaches a livestock health course at the University of the Fraser Valley, said he was alarmed by the questions that have now been raised about the lab.

"It is an integral part of being able to run your farm, your livestock operation. If you need to know the organisms that are causing you problems on your farm, you need to determine what those organisms are and that lab there does that," he said. "Having that lab is essential for most farmers."

Last year, for example, he said he had to take two or three fecal samples to the centre to test. The centre has 12 veterinarians, 19 laboratory scientists and seven support staff, according to the Agriculture Ministry.

"It is an accredited lab and frankly I have never come across any reason to doubt them," said Mr. Gumprich, who has run his livestock operation since 1994. "I have full confidence in that lab and when I take a sample there, I fully expect to get results I can trust."

A spokesman for the BC Salmon Farmers Association said his members - including Marine Harvest - are also confident in the lab's processes and results.

"If Mr. Wright would like to speak with us about our experience as part of his review, we would be happy to participate," the association's executive director, Jeremy Dunn, said in an e-mailed statement. "As this diagnostic laboratory services all agriculture producers in the province, it's important to thousands of farmers that they have confidence in the results."

However, Ernest Alfred, a hereditary chief of the 'Namgis First Nation who has been part of the occupation of one of the fish farms in the Broughton Archipelago since this past August, said it is the Liberals who are in conflict, because of their reliance on campaign contributions from the salmon-farming sector. In 2016 and 2017, the BC Salmon Farmers Association donated a total of $13,000 to the BC Liberal party. Marine Harvest and other individual fish farm companies have also contributed to the Liberals.

"There is a clear bias of the Liberals," Mr. Alfred said.

Mr. Alfred said he was pleased that Ms. Popham has initiated the review of the lab, and that Premier John Horgan has met with the 'Namgis First Nation to hear the concerns of the Indigenous community about the fish farms in their territories.

"The Liberals ignored our calls for an investigation, and finally we have people of leadership. The fact that the government is talking about this is exciting to us, we couldn't be more encouraged by the position of the NDP to stand up for the First Nations of this territory, and not for the foreign shareholders."

Associated Graphic

A protest banner hangs on a fish farm on Midsummer Island, B.C. Two scientists are clashing over a viral disease they both detected in farmed salmon and how the Animal Health Centre's work with the aquaculture industry has influenced how that disease was reported by the lab.


The debate about fish farms in B.C. and whether they pose a threat to wild salmon has been brewing for decades.


Diplomacy, fellowship, freedom: Global award shines light on community leaders who exemplify pluralism
Wednesday, November 15, 2017 – Print Edition, Page A8

The Global Pluralism Award honours three people around the world for their efforts to build an inclusive society in their community. Former prime minister Joe Clark, who chaired the awards committee, said that the variety of applications broadened his own definition of pluralism, and highlighted the need for pluralistic societies.

"Tensions are rising in the world," Mr. Clark said.

"There needs to be an emphasis on the ways those tensions can be addressed, and respect for differences should be encouraged."

The selection committee received applications from 43 countries and travelled to many of the applicants' countries to see what kind of impact their humanitarian work had made.

"There were 230 candidates from 43 countries," Mr. Clark said. "We bore in mind that we wanted our own selections to reflect that variety. The three prize winners and seven honorary mentions gives some sense of the variety of applications."

This is the first year that the Ottawa-based Centre for Global Pluralism has given the awards. The jury of seven international members - which also included Argentina's former foreign affairs minister, Dante Caputo, and Calgary mayor Naheed Nenshi - judged applicants on their impact on their community, authenticity and innovation in how they tackled conflict.

The three winners used the values of pluralism to break apart divisions of race, gender, economic status and tribal conflict.

The winners included a Kenyan mediator who battled gender norms and resolved conflicts across Africa, an Australian lawyer who worked to shift public opinion on migrants and a Colombian lawyer who would heal wounds in his community after an attack that killed dozens of his family members. Winners will receive their awards in Ottawa on Nov. 15.

Alice Wairimu Nderitu

When Alice Wairimu Nderitu goes to mediate conflicts in an unfamiliar region, she pays close attention to how the locals dress. Then she goes to a tailor, and gets a garment made that makes her fit in seamlessly. Her reasoning isn't fashion - it's because if her outfit goes unnoticed, it's one less thing to make men remember that she is a woman and an outsider.

It's just one of the ways that Ms. Nderitu has had to put extra effort to succeed as a conflict mediator in Africa, where such a role is usually filled by men.

Ms. Nderitu says she was always told that men were the people who started conflicts, so they naturally should be the ones to end them.

But she knew that including all types of people was the best way to actually solve issues.

"I keep seeing knowledge gaps between the men and women that we must fill. We need to train them, they need experience," said Ms. Nderitu, 49. "I want women to feel they've been heard."

A Kenyan national, Ms. Nderitu has worked to resolve tribal conflicts in South Sudan, Somalia, and in her home country. But some of her most extensive work has been in Nigeria.

Decades of slavery, exploitation and colonialism had fostered a sense of mistrust in the country's Kaduna region. The size of the conflict was staggering: There were 29 different tribes in the area, each brought six members to the conflict resolution process, which was moderated by Ms. Nderitu.

After years of work to try to heal their relationship, fighting restarted only three months after Ms. Nderitu left. She returned to spend months more to try to create a peace that would last.

Finally, she says, the groups have kept their peace since she last finished her work there.

"It feels like heaven," Ms. Nderitu said. "I go to bed every night and say, 'Thank you God.' " Her belief that the peace process must be inclusive has led to another side of her work. With the prize money that she'll win from her award, Ms. Nderitu hopes to build a database of women mediators.

The database would be initially made up of 30 Nigerians and 20 Kenyans, she says. The women could, like her, mediate in the opposite country. That kind of database is important, she says, because no such resource currently exists to find qualified women to do conflict resolution work.

Ms. Nderitu wound up winning the pluralism award not only because of her efforts to resolve tribal conflicts throughout Africa, but her efforts to bring women into the peacemaking process.

Organizations like the United Nations often try to include women in skilled roles throughout Africa, but she says there's also a lack of opportunity for those women to become properly qualified. After working to resolve the conflicts of so many different African peoples, Ms. Nderitu now looks to show other women that they, too, can do the kinds of important work that she's done.

"People keep saying, 'Oh, you are the only woman at the negotiating table,' " Ms. Nderitu said. "I want to make that statement obsolete."

Leyner Palacios Asprilla

Leyner Palacios Asprilla cam credit his local church for helping teach him the values of pluralism. In his hometown of Bojaya, Colombia, where it's 11,000 residents are split between Afro-Colombians and the Indigenous communities, Mr. Palacios was able to experience both sides of life in his teenage years when his priests took him to different parts of town as part of their work.

"As I was growing up, because of my [priests'] work, I always visited Indigenous communities," said Mr. Palacios, whose family was Afro-Colombian. "As I grew up, I realized how these people also lived in poverty with lack of access to health and education."

That understanding of how both of his town's peoples had the same struggles proved to be instrumental in sparking change after years of civil conflict between rebel groups in Colombia.

In 2002, a brutal fight between the Revolutionary Armed Forces of Colombia (FARC in its Spanish acronym), a Colombian rebel army involved in a decades-long civil conflict, and other paramilitary forces would ravage not only his community, but an overwhelming part of his family. FARC bombed a church during the fighting, killing 79 people.

More than half of the victims were infants, and 32 of the victims were his own family.

The town of Bojaya had tried to voice their grievances about the decades-long violence to the Colombian government, but with each of the town's 50 ethnic communities speaking out on their own, their words carried no weight.

Mr. Palacios understood that if he could bring the different groups together and unite the voices of the Indigenous and Afro-Colombian people, maybe they could finally be heard.

More than a decade later in 2014, Mr. Palacios co-founded the Committee for the Rights of Victims of Bojaya, a group that would collectively represent his entire town. As a mediator between the town's two major ethnicities, he was able to get the two groups to finally trust each other.

It was a difficult task, he said, because the two groups spoke different languages, had different cultures and lived in different parts of town. It was also difficult because FARC had used their differences against them.

"When the massacre took place, the paramilitaries told the Indigenous population that the blacks were to be blamed," said Mr. Palacios, 41.

"The armed groups just wanted to divide the people ... they started to put families against each other."

To mend these wounds, Mr. Palacios was able to get the town's different communities to actually meet in a physical place and talk out the situation. He ultimately won the award for pluralism because of his ability to bring so many of his town's people together to finally make a difference.

Today, after years of the community voicing their grief together, Mr. Palacios has been able to incite real change. FARC recently acknowledged the role they played in the massacres and the government has also taken the responsibility of properly identifying and exhuming the bodies of those that died in the church attack.

Mr. Palacios says that their work is nowhere near finished, but it has been a promising start.

"They will be able to bury their loved ones, and they'll be able to to it according to their own tradition," Mr. Palacios said. "That will help to begin healing spiritual wounds."

Daniel Webb

Daniel Webb's work is inspired by two things: a deep-seated belief that everybody deserves basic decency and respect, and an opinion that detainees in Australia's offshore detention centres have been denied their basic rights.

As a human-rights lawyer, Mr. Webb has worked for five years to end the detainment of thousands of asylum seekers at Australia's offshore detention centres and to prevent their deportation altogether.

Since 2013, he says the Australian government has actively tried to ward off migrants who are seeking asylum by boat. The government announced that year that asylum seekers would be detained indefinitely at detention centres such as Manus Island, a former naval base in Papua New Guinea.

"On a global level, it's utterly counterproductive," said Mr. Webb, 33. "If every country in the world had a single-minded focus on deterrence, then people fleeing persecution would be left with nowhere to go."

Mr. Webb has visited the centres multiple times, and describes the conditions as jail-like. His first visit came after an asylum seeker was killed. He described the situation there as inhumane, with reports of violence, sexual assault, suicide and medical neglect rampant in the facilities.

"But the thing that cause the most anguish was the uncertainty," Mr. Webb said, adding that the detainees he spoke to described it as mental torture for them to have no idea what would happen next, or when it would happen.

Many of the migrants came from countries such as Burma, Iran, Iraq, Afghanistan, Syria and parts of Africa.

Mr. Webb won the pluralism award not only because of his efforts to free those migrants, but because of the immense challenge that it was to change public perception about the migrants.

Political wrangling over the issue meant that the policy of holding migrants in offshore detention centres was actually popular among Australian citizens because they'd been painted as smugglers and criminals, rather than refugees.

Mr. Webb says changing Australian opinions came down to how you positioned the issue.

"Fundamentally this issue is about people, and whenever we are able to make this debate about people ... the public opinion shifts," Mr. Webb said.

Over years of work, Mr. Webb has been able to spark actual change.

Beyond changing people's perceptions, he has also managed to temporarily bring around 400 detainees into Australia for medical treatment. But their situation is uncertain and by no means permanent.

Mr. Webb says there's still a large amount of work to be done. The Australian government closed the Manus Island centre Oct. 31 and cut off all power, food and water, but several hundred refugees have refused to move to alternative accommodation, saying they aren't safe. Before the closing, the United Nations High Commissioner for Refugees had called the situation a "looming humanitarian emergency" and protests across Australia have since called for the refugees to be brought to Australia.

Thursday, November 16, 2017

The Gulf's buyout king goes where others fear to tread
Saturday, October 28, 2017 – Print Edition, Page B1

LONDON -- In 2008, when Hezbollah fighters seized control of much of western Beirut, the employees of Spinneys supermarket feared street fighting would wreck their outlets.

Phone calls were placed to the owner of the supermarkets, the AbrAj Group of Dubai. "The employees asked, 'What should we do?' " says Arif Masood Naqvi, AbrAj's founder and chief executive.

"Three of our supermarkets were in the middle of a war zone. We thought about it and said, 'Open the doors, guys, and give away all the consumable products to the community, anything with an expiry date.' " The instant act of charity proved to be a brilliant move. "We gave away everything to everyone. In the remaining 15 days of the war, all the local militia patrolled our supermarkets to ensure no looting happened and that customers were safe," he says.

The open-door strategy was classic AbrAj. The private equity (PE) firm, the biggest of its kind solely devoted to emerging markets, relies on a boots-on-the-ground network of managers and operating teams who have intimate knowledge of local politics and business. While other big-name PE firms might have put the supermarket barricades up, AbrAj stayed the course, betting that passing out food for free would buy goodwill among the militiamen.

"You cannot succeed in these markets without being local to these markets," he says.

"Most of our competitors fly in and out," Mr. Naqvi says.

Mr. Naqvi, a Pakistani, is sitting in an elegant wood-panelled room in the company's London office, one of 20 AbrAj outposts around the world, in the city's billionairepacked Mayfair. He is stout, with a full head of pepper-grey hair, and speaks polished English, thanks to his education at the London School of Economics, where he studied Soviet national planning systems before launching himself into a career in Western-style capitalism, which pays better.

Though relaxed, he keeps popping Nicorette gum into his mouth while I sip a coffee. He is 57 and quit smoking five years ago, but the nicotine cravings persist. He looks a bit tired, with good reason.

He travels incessantly, breaking now and then to play cricket with friends on the pitch he built at his country estate in Oxford. "I live in Dubai, but I have been in Dubai for less than 30 days since the start of the year. I live on the airplane," he says.

He had just finished making a presentation on sustainable investing at a conference sponsored by the Financial Times and EMPEA, the global industry association for private capital in emerging markets. Though his talk was studded with jargon ("active investing" and "investing for impact"), I was struck by one figure he tossed out - $9-trillion (U.S.) - which represents the global investment in negative-yield bonds. "How can this possibly be rational," he asked in his talk. "The plumbing of the financial system is broken. There is a massive opportunity for capital to earn strong returns. Look at the big shortfalls in health care, education, energy, clean water and housing. Only the private sector can solve these problems sustainably."

The message was that parking fortunes in bonds guaranteed to lose money is foolish when so much money can be made in emerging markets, or "growth markets," as Mr. Naqvi prefers, noting that China can hardly be considered "emerging" any more.

Mr. Naqvi founded AbrAj in 2002. Today, it has $11-billion in assets under management, covering 200 investments. They include India's Big Basket online retailer, Fan Milk International, a maker of frozen yogurt, milk and ice cream in West Africa, Peruvian restaurants, a pancake chain in the Philippines, an offshore oil and gas servicing business based in Dubai, a fashion footwear company in Mexico that caters to teenage girls, English-language training schools in Vietnam, an Ethiopian brewery, medical diagnostic centres in North Africa and a piece of Air Arabia.

AbrAj mostly avoids the cyclical resources sectors, preferring instead consumer companies that are expanding quickly as regions that we once pejoratively called the "Third World" develop middle classes who want to spend. "Most investors see Africa as a naturalresources story. We see it differently. To us, it's a consumer story," he says.

But aren't emerging markets highly risky? And isn't that why many big PE funds generally give regions such as sub-Saharan Africa and parts of the Middle East a pass?

This is where Mr. Naqvi begs to differ. He notes that the greatest source of risk in the past decade was Wall Street, which handed us the 2008 financial crisis, not the emerging markets (though Brazil, once an emerging-market star, became a source of great risk in 2015 and 2016, when it tumbled into deep recession).

To prove his point, he claims that AbrAj's loss ratio - the amount of investment capital it has written off - has been under 3 per cent against an industry average of 10 per cent or more. "Political headline risk should not be equated with investment risk," he says.

AbrAj doesn't publish its returns, but an investor who knows the numbers says they are better than decent, with net returns in the solid middle-teens and internal rates of return (IRR) even higher. Certainly, the returns are reliably strong enough to have attracted some big-name investors.

AbrAj's roster of investors includes the Bill and Melinda Gates Foundation, the World Bank's International Finance Corp., the European Investment Bank, big health-care companies such as Medtronic and some Canadian institutional investors. Mr. Naqvi won't identify the Canadians, but he is well-connected in Canada, where his contacts include Brookfield Asset Management CEO Bruce Flatt (Mr. Naqvi appears on a panel hosted by McKinsey's Dominic Barton at the Toronto Global Forum on Oct. 30).

Mr. Naqvi is the youngest of four children from a middle-class Pakistani family. His father was a plastics manufacturer in Karachi.

Calling himself a "young idealist," his studies in Soviet economics were rendered rather meaningless when the Soviet Union collapsed, he says. So, after graduating with an economics degree, he worked as an accountant at Arthur Anderson in London and landed in Saudi Arabia in 1990.

After a stint at Saudi Arabian investment conglomerate Olayan Group, Naqvi took his $75,000 in savings and set off on his own. In 1994, he started an investment advisory firm called Cupola in Dubai and got his first big break in 1998, when he and his team of a dozen young managers piled into a twobedroom apartment in London so they could be close to the bidding action for the Middle East businesses of Inchcape, the old British conglomerate that was slimming down into a car-distribution business.

In a highly leveraged buyout, Mr. Naqvi's team landed Inchcape Middle East for $150-million and earned "several multiples on our capital," he says, by selling off businesses that included oil and gas, shipping and retail. Flush with cash, Mr. Naqvi hired McKinsey consultant Kito de Boer to define a business model for him.

"Who are we, I asked Kito. He told me 'You are a private-equity firm,' " Mr. Naqvi says. (Mr. de Boer, who later became a member of the Quartet with Tony Blair to mediate the Israeli-Palestinian peace process, recently became an AbrAj managing partner).

Four years after the Inchcape deal, AbrAj, which means "towers" in Arabic, swung into action, becoming a PE pioneer in the Middle East before expanding into other emerging markets. "There was no private-equity industry in the Middle East at that time," Mr. Naqvi says. "The Middle East had always been an area where large global private-equity firms came to raise capital, not to deploy it. I was the first, or among the first, to actually deploy capital there."

AbrAj became a deal-making machine. By 2008, Institutional Investor labelled Mr. Naqvi "The Gulf's Buyout King." Managing geopolitical risk has always been one of AbrAj's strengths. During the tumultuous and violent Arab Spring in Egypt - where AbrAj owned eight businesses, from health care to farming - the firm didn't panic. It stayed put and watched those businesses grow by 25 per cent a year, even as governments rose and fell and mass protests paralyzed the cities. "We always used a stakeholder-engagement model, not just shareholder returns," Mr. Naqvi says. "We were seen as empathetic to the community and that protected us."

Once in a while, AbrAj gets nasty, in a clever way. In Karachi, where the company bought the country's biggest integrated electrical utility, K-Electric, in 2008, the losses were horrendous since more than half the electricity was being stolen, largely by industrial users.

Instead of cutting off their electricity and triggering factory shutdowns, AbrAj launched a naming-and-shaming campaign.

"We named the big players who stole the electricity," he says. "We put full-page adds in the newspapers and even had a reality-TV show that exposed the illegal connections. As a result, our line losses went from 54 per cent to 18 per cent" (the now-profitable K-Electric is being sold to the Shanghai Electric Power Co. for $1.8-billion).

AbrAj is now embarking on a sustainable-development investing campaign, internally known as "impact investing," which Mr. Naqvi defines as "making a return while doing good for society."

Many of these investments are being made in clean energy and health care, and his enthusiasm for them earned him a spot on the board of the United Nations Global Compact, an initiative to encourage businesses to adopt sustainable and socially responsible policies.

I ask Mr. Naqvi if impact investing is a heroic, feel-good idea that doesn't work, in the sense that investors typically want the highest returns possible on their investment, and damn the consequences.

He strongly disagrees, citing Unilever as an example of successful stakeholder engagement, where maximizing investor returns is not necessarily the priority. "Unilever is geared to a social message," he says. "Lifebuoy is not just about selling soap; it's about creating hygienic conditions."

Mr. Naqvi is probably one of Pakistan's richest men and is giving his wealth away. His family founded the Aman Foundation in Pakistan and endowed it with $120-million, which is used to subsidize health, education and women's-empowerment charities.

In spite of his gruelling schedule, he shows no sign of slowing down.

There's too much money to make, too much money to give away, more work to be done to cement AbrAj's reputation as a competitor to the world's biggest - and largely Western - PE funds. "Retirement?

That's up to the big boss," he says, pointing a finger to the sky.

Associated Graphic

Arif Masood Naqvi, seen in his London office, founded private-equity firm the AbrAj Group in 2002. Today, it has $11-billion in assets under management across 200 investments, covering sectors such as food, fashion, education and medicine.


China's shadow looms over the West
After a publisher scraps a book on Communist Party's influence in Australia, its author warns that Canada is also at risk of Beijing-led campaigns that rely on shadowy government agencies to promote President Xi's agenda among Chinese living overseas. Nathan VanderKlippe and Jeff Gray report
Thursday, November 23, 2017 – Print Edition, Page A12

BEIJING, TORONTO -- Alarmed by creeping Chinese influence on Australian political life, Clive Hamilton set out to investigate.

Businesses and people connected to China had already become the biggest foreign financial contributors to the country's political parties. But "it seemed to me there was much more going on," said Prof. Hamilton, a scholar at Charles Sturt University.

He found much to write about - only to become, himself, the subject of China's efforts to promote its agenda around the world, after fears of retaliation by Beijing caused his publisher to back away from a book containing his findings.

Now, he is warning about the risks of China's rising power - including in Canada, which has become an important target for a Beijing-led campaign that relies on shadowy government-funded agencies to spread influence among Chinese living overseas.

Such "united front" work has been called a "magic weapon" by President Xi Jinping, who echoed a formulation that dates all the way back to Mao Zedong. But Mr. Xi has overseen an effort to enhance China's international standing unparalleled in recent history, either in China or among countries such as Russia or Turkey, whose foreign-influence campaigns Beijing has eclipsed in scale and ambition.

China has cast its united-front efforts both as a necessary corrective to negative images of the country and a bid to invite participation in its domestic development by the worldwide community of ethnic Chinese.

"We have expanded to the maximum extent the boundaries of unity and called on Chinese people from every corner of the world to secure the core interests of our country, and to contribute to our reform and development," Zhang Yijiong, administrative vice-minister of the United Front Work Department of the Communist Party Central Committee, said in a rare public appearance in late October.

Critics, however, accuse Beijing of threatening the sovereignty of foreign political systems.

It was that risk that Prof. Hamilton sought to document.

He tracked the rivers of money flowing into the Australian education system that "have made the universities beholden to China and extremely reluctant to do anything that might upset Beijing." He dug into work by Chinese emissaries "to turn the Chinese diaspora in Australia into a highly effective weapon for Beijing's diplomacy in this part of the world." He looked at opinionmakers espousing views favourable to China, some of whom "have been won over through financial ties to Chinese organizations." He looked at Chinese-language media in Australia, 90 per cent of which now "adopt a pro-Beijing political stance."

He assembled his findings into a book, Silent Invasion: How China is Turning Australia into a Puppet State, in which he named the people he identified as being at the forefront of China's influence campaign.

But months before the book's planned release, his long-time publisher, Allen & Unwin, told him it could no longer go forward as planned, saying in an e-mail it was worried about "potential threats to the book and the company from possible action by Beijing."

In the e-mail, first published by Australian media last week, the publisher cited "Beijing's agents of influence" and said printing the book would raise "the very high chance of a vexatious defamation action against Allen & Unwin, and possibly against you personally as well."

"There have been, as far as I'm aware, no specific threats made to the publisher," Prof. Hamilton said.

"But, in a way, that's more worrying, because it means the mere shadow of Beijing is enough to cause them to pull the plug on this book."

China's immense consumer market and economic power have made it a coveted business partner for countries around the world, not least Australia, which has benefited from its relative geographic proximity.

But in courting Beijing, Australia has allowed China to gain so much sway, Prof. Hamilton warns, that "it will take a decade of determined effort to unwind the program of influence that has been executed in this country."

And, he says, other countries would do well to heed what he has experienced - including Canada, where schools at all levels are increasingly reliant on tuition dollars from Chinese students, while Ottawa has approved controversial investments in sensitive sectors as it holds talks toward a free-trade agreement with Beijing.

Canada is far less economically reliant on China than Australia. But its large population of Chinese immigrants has also made it a target for the United Front Work Department and other arms of the Communist Party and Chinese government tasked with exerting Beijing's influence abroad.

A 2016 book, United Front Theory and the Frontier of Its Practice, says groups of large, relatively new immigrants overseas are "one of the most heated topics" for Chinese study, which has led researchers to devote special attention to countries such as Canada.

The book then provides a description of networks of influence among the roughly one million Chinese immigrants who have arrived in Canada since 1980.

Everyday Chinese in Canada continue to show "a very limited degree" of political interest - but that, the authors suggest, provides fertile ground for united-front influence.

"The positive effects of Chinese political organizations and the encouragement from Chinese political parties have not been fully exploited," says the book, whose primary authors are Chen Mingming, a retired Chinese foreign affairs official, and Xiao Cunliang, who was formerly in charge of united-front work in a Chinese province.

"The huge increase in population has given Chinese people stronger political influence in Canada. The number of Chinese people running for all levels of government positions is increasing. Some Chinese elites have had very impressive performances in elections," the authors write in the book, which The Globe and Mail obtained in Beijing.

Both researchers declined interview requests; Mr. Xiao hung up on a reporter.

United-front work internationally serves two primary purposes: to understand what is happening amongst overseas Chinese and to use them to further Beijing's objectives, said Gerry Groot, a Chinese studies scholar at The University of Adelaide who has extensively studied the trend.

Ethnic Chinese in positions of influence overseas are particularly valuable.

"They hope to be able to use those sort of representatives directly or indirectly to help promote positions which are useful to China or to the Communist Party," Prof. Groot said.

"They hope that ethnic Chinese will be much more sympathetic to Chinese positions and be able to persuade audiences in other countries of the validity of those positions."

Indeed, a United Front teaching manual specifically cites electoral candidates in the Greater Toronto Area as fertile ground.

The manual, first reported by the Financial Times, does not claim Chinese involvement in selecting or prodding candidates to stand for election. But it notes the electoral success of ethnically Chinese in the Toronto area between 2003 and 2010, suggesting that United Front operatives should be "broadly united, aggressively guiding and passionately serving" newly emigrated Chinese overseas, particularly those with high status or possibility for advancement.

For example, according to a Financial Times translation, the document says that in elections across "all the cities and towns in the Toronto area" in 2003, 25 "overseas Chinese" took part and six won.

By 2010, it says, there were 41 "overseas Chinese" candidates in local, regional and school trustee elections in Toronto, Richmond Hill, Markham, Vaughn and elsewhere, although it does not provide specifics or list how many won seats.

A scan of election results yielded numbers roughly in line with the United Front manual.

In 2010, the director of the Canadian Security Intelligence Service warned that cabinet ministers in two provinces, as well as several municipal politicians in British Columbia, were suspected of operating under foreign influence.

Toronto's deputy mayor, Denzil Minnan-Wong, has been a city councillor in Toronto since the 1990s. A prominent Conservative and ally of Mayor John Tory, Mr. Minnan-Wong is the Canadian-born son of a Chinese immigrant father. He has met often with China's consular officials to discuss doing business with the city.

He denied having been approached by any organization seeking to extend China's "soft power." But, in an interview, he acknowledged being exposed to Chinese pressure.

He was once called into a meeting with Chinese consular officials and urged not to travel to Taiwan, which mainland China claims is a breakaway province.

"I have travelled to Taiwan before.

And the Chinese government has expressed concern to me that they're not pleased," Mr. Minnan-Wong said.

He went anyway.

Still, critics say China's efforts are so wide-reaching that its "foreign influence activities have the potential to undermine the sovereignty and integrity of the political system of targeted states."

That was the conclusion of AnneMarie Brady, a University of Canterbury professor who recently published a paper documenting extensive Chinese interference in New Zealand, which has included one local politician openly pledging to promote China's policies in Tibet and translating a local party campaign slogan into a Chinese language saying from China's Mr. Xi.

"New Zealand, like many other states in the world, is becoming saturated with the PRC's political influence activities," Prof. Brady wrote, referring to the People's Republic of China.

Those Chinese efforts create profound questions for diverse, democratic countries, where free speech is cherished and the idea of casting suspicion on an ethnic group is considered repugnant. At the same time, China's united-front efforts target a specific ethnic group.

"It's a very difficult problem. And it's one that the united-front departments like because Western liberal democracies can tie themselves up in knots trying to figure out how best to cope with this," Prof. Groot said.

He added: "We need to be very clear-eyed about the fact that China as a party state has all sorts of reasons and means to try to influence ethnic Chinese overseas."

Prof. Hamilton has argued for tougher laws in response to "this new kind of influence that is being exerted on nations like Australia and Canada."

Australia, for example, is planning new rules to force the registration of foreign agents. Canada has no such legislation, although such a law has long existed in the United States, where the U.S. China Economic and Security Review Commission recently recommended registering Chinese journalists as foreign agents.

Prof. Hamilton also called for Western countries to be vigilant in guarding their own values as China links its economic clout with a desire for global influence.

"Humans have a remarkable capacity to be blinded by money," he said. "And we are seeing that blindness exploited at all levels."

With reporting from Alexandra Li

Finding pleasure in sex, again
In an age of predators and sexual despair, assault survivors talk about how they found intimacy and fun again
Special to The Globe and Mail
Friday, November 17, 2017 – Print Edition, Page L1

'Before the assault, I had an incredible sex drive," says Ellie, a 30-year-old woman who lives in Toronto. (She asked that her full name not be used.) "I was adventurous, found joy in intimacy and viewed sex as a great way to get to know a partner."

"Everything changed," she says, after she was raped four years ago.

Her sex life became a source of indomitable anxiety. "I started having panic attacks any time I tried to be intimate," she says. "The things that I used to enjoy now left me in tears." Eventually, she stopped wanting to have sex at all. "The thought of being physically intimate filled me with dread, so I just avoided it." Another survivor, Samantha, 24, describes her sex life as currently "non-existent." She says that being raped "... took away the excitement of the experience of sex and replaced it with something to be afraid of."

The assault diminished her selfconfidence, which added "to the difficulties of wanting to have sex with someone." She fears that even consensual sex with her trusted partner might trigger bad memories. "I don't want to cry or freak out. I just avoid the situation entirely," she says, noting that the medication she now takes for PTSD and night terrors may also be factors in her decreased enthusiasm toward sex.

(She is currently in therapy.)

The prevalence of sexual-assault reporting in the news of late can remind many people of their worst experiences with consent and sex.

The almost daily reported revelations can cause people - whether survivors, partners of survivors or even people with no history of trauma but who are rightfully cautious - to freshly consider potential dangers that can undermine a sense of trust in any sexual exchange.

But good sex after trauma does exist. Ellie is one of more than a dozen sexual-assault survivors who told The Globe and Mail that her sex life, once diminished, is now thriving. Ellie says the nine months she spent in therapy were essential to "the sex drive I felt I'd lost forever."

"Instead of letting this experience continue to destroy my sexual identity, I was able to take ownership ... and begin to move beyond it," she says. "I don't think rape is something one ever really gets over. But ... I'm thrilled to say that my sex life is almost back to normal."

Understandably, it can take time.

In his 2014 book, The Body Keeps the Score: Brain, Mind, and Body in the Healing of Trauma, psychiatrist Bessel van der Kolk wrote that "When our senses become muffled, we no longer feel fully alive."

Trauma, van der Kolk says, affects the mind and emotions as well as the immune system and one's ability to feel trust and security. A noted researcher into the effects of posttraumautic stress disorder, van der Kolk also writes that it is common for trauma survivors to feel disassociated from their bodies.

"The past is impressed not only on their minds ... but also on the very core of their beings: in the safety of their bodies," he wrote of those who have experienced sexual assault. For many, this complicates the possibility of a satisfying sex life, even with consensual, desired partners.

The celibacy strategy may be familiar to fans of the book and television series Big Little Lies, in which one single mother tentatively reconsiders her own sexuality years after a violent assault. It's one of several common responses for survivors, says Rae Dolman, a registered psychotherapist in Toronto who specializes in sex and relationship issues.

Others are able to have sex, but suffer from flashbacks or body memories triggered by certain kinds of touching, circumstances or environments, she says.

"Trauma manifests differently for different people," she says, noting that the postsexual-assault healing process can be "slow work" compared to situations where sexual trauma has not occurred.

The good news is: Dolman regularly helps clients reclaim their sex lives and reach a point where intimacy is fun again. "I have clients come in who are completely disconnected from their partner, and leave with what they say is a fulfilling sex life," she says.

"I recently concluded treatment with a couple who initiated therapy due to the female partner's past sexual abuse impacting their sex life," Dolman says. "They were exploring whether or not to stay together. It took a year for them to come to any conclusions." The couple recently became engaged.

Some survivors sexually shut down after trauma, while others become hypersexual. Dolman says this is another normal coping mechanism - an attempt to have control or restore what has been stolen.

Roberta Excell, 25, experienced two sexual traumas, one of which occurred during childhood and the second when she was 21. After the second assault, she withdrew socially, but became promiscuous.

"I went from having four [sexual] partners to having 22 partners in the space of 18 months," Excell says.

"I was enamoured with the idea of sex, but also utterly petrified of it."

For years, Excell experienced panic attacks over sensory triggers such as smelling the brand of her attacker's cologne. She says that even consensual kissing as a teenager left her feeling "panicked, fearful and utterly out of control."

Excell went through a stage of chosen celibacy while undergoing cognitive behavioural therapy.

"I love sex, but I've been through a lot. I have to be gentle on myself," she says. "It doesn't mean I'll never have sex again. It just means maybe I won't have sex right now, and that's okay. That really is normal."

Toronto-based sensual body worker Robyn Red helps clients - equally divided between men and women, she notes - to recover from sexual trauma. She offers various types of therapy, some physical, such as reiki and tantric massage, others verbal.

Much of it is designed to help clients rebuild their relationship to their bodies.

"For some, [celibacy] is an okay bargain for a while," she says. "I tend to meet people at the point where that stops being fine."

Red says she usually meets clients several years after they've had a traumatic experience, not right away. The time in between leaves what she calls a "calcified" kind of pain.

"With this kind of healing, you need to go deep into your own underground and face things that are scary to face," says Red, who also notes that the healing process takes time and can be emotionally laborious. "You need to be willing to work with shame and sexuality, which typically people don't really do." As with Dolman, Red acknowledges that the process is not always easy.

But there is triumph to be found.

"There's often a sense of, 'Oh! I'm here again!' " she says. "[Clients] become more present in their lives.

They start seeing colours more clearly. People will often come to the conclusion that they know themselves better than they've ever known themselves."

The focus on active consent, an important element of many sex therapies, sometimes leads trauma survivors to BDSM play (bondage and discipline/dominance and submission), where continuing enthusiastic consent and communication are paramount.

According to a woman named Sandra, 39, the combination of BDSM and therapy helped her fully recover from an assault that took place 20 years ago.

"There is a rewriting that occurs somatically, with respect to the physical acts of violence I've experienced," says Sandra, who regularly engages in BDSM and roleplaying with her partner. "We've reenacted my rape in a way that made me feel safe and in power the entire time. We play a 'game' where I say no, and am heard, and we stop. ... Consent is the default, regardless of what we are doing. We got to that point with an absolutely huge amount of communication."

"My sex life is amazing," says Mandi, a 35-year-old mother of two from Austin, Tex., who endured intimate partner violence and rape during her teenage years and early 20s.

"I do still get nightmares," she says.

"But they aren't as vivid or emotional as they were. More like a bad black-and-white TV show with poor reception."

Mandi sought therapy after a particularly distressing flashback during sex, when her current partner's advance triggered a memory of a long-ago assault. She says that regular group counselling and twiceweekly eye movement desensitization and reprocessing (EMDR) therapy helped "get the poison out."

(EMDR is a psychotherapy technique that repeatedly activates opposite sides of the brain to release emotional experiences trapped within the nervous system.)

Now, Mandi says, "I have complete trust in my partner. I am completely open to try new things.

We've experimented with bondage, which is something I could have never imagined a few years ago."

Dolman and Red both say that the healing process is helped by the presence of a strong support network, or "secure attachments."

"Recovery happens best when survivors find allies in their partners," says Dolman, who often sees couples in her practice together. (Red's practice tends to focus on the individual.) It should be noted, though, that support does not have to come from a romantic partner. Survivors can, and do, recover on their own.

(Some join Facebook groups to connect with others who've had similar experiences.) Whether or not one desires an emotional element to sex, it is possible to enjoy it again.

"I am 56 now," says Margot Curtis, who sought therapy after a number of sexual assaults that began when she was 15. "My advice to survivors is to seek help, sooner than later.

Mentally, we believe there is no way out of the prison we are living in, but that is a lie." Curtis says that due to trauma, it took her a long time to be able to have an orgasm.

"Getting past guilt, self-loathing and having zero self-esteem is difficult," she says. "But it can be done. I have an amazing sex life."

Associated Graphic

Shailene Woodley, centre, plays a single mother who practises celibacy and tentatively reconsiders her own sexuality years after a violent assault in HBO's critically acclaimed miniseries Big Little Lies.

The politics and economics of paid parking
Saturday, November 18, 2017 – Print Edition, Page M1

In a 1992 episode of the hit television show Seinfeld, the character George Costanza explains why he refuses to pay for parking: "It's like going to a prostitute. Why should I pay, when if I apply myself maybe I can get it for free?" It's a common reluctance, which leads to drivers going around and around in search of the perfect spot.

According to some research, such circling is a major contributor to congestion, and when people do manage to find a spot, they're motivated to occupy it for as long as possible.

Charging for street parking can change this dynamic, prompting quicker turnover of users. But it's a tricky balance. Charge too much and you can anger drivers and discourage them from stopping. Charge too little and you'll probably still anger them, without actually improving parking access. The economics of parking is one many municipalities grapple with. Even suburban cities built around the car are increasingly acknowledging the need to put a price on their curb space.

Mississauga, the suburb of Toronto that is the sixth most populous city in the country, is deep in this debate. Its small amount of for-pay street parking is being expanded in the Port Credit neighbourhood and introduced in central Streetsville.

The changes come in advance of a broader shake-up of the city's approach to parking that is expected to go to council next year.

"We need to recognize that there's a cost to offering parking," said Jamie Brown, Mississauga's manager of municipal parking. "The parking master plan builds on work that's already been done to look at how these principles can be applied [on non-residential streets] city-wide."

The history of paid parking The parking meter was introduced in 1935 in Oklahoma City as a way to improve customer access to businesses. Observers had noticed that employees would occupy all the free curb-side spaces, forcing would-be customers to park farther away.

Setting time limits on free parking was not enough to deter people from leaving their car for long periods, leading to the imposition of a nickel-an-hour charge.

The result was faster turnover of the metered spots while the unmetered spots were invariably full.

According to historian LeRoy Fischer, who wrote Reminiscences of the Development of the Parking Meter, businesses noticed this pattern and began asking for meters on their streets, leading to their rapid spread.

Even if bringing in paid parking has benefits, though, it can be a political hot button. There's invariably a flurry of concern whenever planners propose change to the use of road space. Small business owners can be particularly vocal, arguing that losing parking spaces, or charging for them, will hurt their viability.

But for Donald Shoup - a professor of urban planning at University of California, Los Angeles, who literally wrote the book on parking economics, publishing a seminal 765-page tome, The High Cost of Free Parking, spawning a legion of followers who call themselves Shoupistas - such logic is unpersuasive.

"Sure, some people won't come, but they'll be replaced with others who do," he said from Los Angeles, adding that a commitment to visit any particular business might indicate a better customer. "Who do you think will leave a higher tip at a restaurant, someone who's willing to come downtown only if he can park for free or someone who is willing to pay?" Prof. Shoup briskly knocks down many of the common arguments against paid parking, including that it unfairly hurts poor people. He noted that driving involves a variety of costs and society isn't expected to, for example, provide free gasoline.

But simply charging is not enough.

Cities have to do it right.

"One of the reasons meters have a bad reputation is they're often mispriced," he said. "They're very clumsily managed."

When settling on an approach to parking and its cost, politicians first have to figure out what it is they're actually hoping to achieve. Is it costrecovery, encouraging people to use transit instead of driving, maximizing the amount of spaces available or some other goal?

In Mississauga, the city commissioned a 35-page consultant report that details some of the more forward-thinking approaches to parking being used elsewhere. Among the examples it cites is San Francisco's method of having the parking price fluctuate based on demand and the way Markham allows shared parking, in which several buildings can use the same spaces.

Many of these ideas are on the table as Mississauga prepares its parking master plan. In the meantime, the city is expanding the amount of paid curb parking in a few spots, trying to tackle the same problem that led 82 years ago to meters in Oklahoma City.

'You lose that personal touch' In the area known as Streetsville, plans to manage demand by charging for street parking were news to several business owners interviewed along the strip.

Ravinder Khaira, owner of Select Fabric, said her customers wouldn't care about paying a few dollars to park. "If you need a facility, you have to pay," she said.

But a half-block away at Streetsville Travel, owner Connie Przygocki was worried that the charge would accelerate what she characterized as the area's shift to a place people drive through, without stopping.

"I think the initial shock of having to pay will stop some people coming," she said. "If you're paying for parking just to come in and talk about a flight, you might as well do it by phone. You lose that personal touch, and that's what we offer."

Streetsville is a historic centre of Mississauga and Queen Street is its commercial strip, a mix of merchants, restaurants and cafés where street parking has long been free.

The city did put time-restrictions on about 50 curb-side spots in the heart of the area, but that hasn't been enough to manage demand.

"Parking utilization is so high there just isn't any available," Mr. Brown said. "In that area, the premium onstreet parking was very well-utilized.

We were up around 90 per cent."

Parking theory has it that full occupancy for an area is 85 per cent, which translates into heavy use, while still allowing people to find a spot when they need one. Although setting the right price is usually the way to achieve this, parking in parts of Mississauga that are in high demand has traditionally been free.

The city is planning to bring in a modest charge in Streetsville early next year, structured to encourage shorter stays.

In Streetsville, it will cost $1.50 for the first hour and max out at $5 for three hours, the same parking fee structure the city has implemented in part of the Port Credit neighbourhood. And even though central Port Credit has several large lots offering free parking for up to 15 hours, the city says this fee has helped stimulate turnover. "It's working," Mr. Brown said.

Different approaches to the problem Mississauga's changes come as part of Greater Toronto's evolution from bedroom communities to cities in their own right. Throughout the municipalities near Toronto are pressures on everything from zoning to development approvals to transportation. The older model - in which everyone drove to work and there was always more land to develop - appears increasingly unviable.

Until now, Mississauga's approach to parking was old school. Demanding that developers include substantial parking in their buildings based on how they're used, a concept known parking minimums, discouraged the repurposing of older buildings and encouraged driving. Having free-to-use curb space in commercial areas had a similar effect on driving.

City officials acknowledge that their parking minimums are high compared with many other municipalities. There are no plans to do away with minimums as part of their parking overhaul, but these could be reduced in specific areas, to reflect the proximity to transit. And the parking master plan going to council next year will look at different types of fee structures for street parking.

An example of what this could end up looking like lies immediately to the west, where Oakville has long taken a progressive approach toward parking.

Oakville's parking program had a revenue of $2.3-million in 2016, said Jim Barry, the director of municipal enforcement services, and is priced to be self-sustaining, paying for both its capital and operating costs.

There have been no parking minimums for non-residential buildings in downtown Oakville since 1981, an attempt to preserve the character of the area. The metered street parking and local lots have had a graduated system of time limits since at least 1990. The current set-up allows for stays that range, depending on the space, from less than 20 minutes to as long as nine hours.

The quick-stop spots are good for people running in and out, said Anna Rea, whose clothing store Tocca Finita has been in downtown Oakville for 30 years, leaving other space for customers who need more time.

She says the parking set-up works for most of her clients, although some don't like walking to the pay-and-display machine in the winter. What she'd really like, though, is discounted parking for people who work in the city centre.

Prof. Shoup agrees that employee discounts can help blunt public criticism of paid parking. So can Oakville's approach of using parking revenues to pay for itself. But Mark Simeoni, the city's director of planning services, acknowledged that traditional opinions about parking can be hard to overcome.

"Unless they're parking right in front, they're unhappy," he said.

Associated Graphic

Mississauga recently installed parking meters on several streets in the Port Credit area, including Elizabeth Street North.


On Canada's boards, climate takes top billing
As companies grapple with how to measure, mitigate and disclose potential liabilities, inconsistency in policy poses a looming issue
Wednesday, November 22, 2017 – Print Edition, Page B6

Michael Sabia has a message for Canada's corporate directors as he weighs how to deploy one of the biggest pools of investment capital in the country: Climate change is top of mind.

Mr. Sabia - the chief executive officer of the Caisse de dépôt et placement du Québec - wants climaterelated factors to be at the core of how the country's secondlargest pension fund approaches all of its investment decisions, regardless of asset class.

"That's what I think is going to be required for investors like us to benefit from the opportunities and protect ourselves from the risks that are obvious here," Mr. Sabia says.

Last month, the pension fund announced plans to slash the carbon footprint of its investment portfolio by 25 per cent by 2025. It also aims to boost its low-carbon investments by 50 per cent - to the tune of more than $8-billion - by 2020.

The term "carbon footprint" refers to the amount of greenhouse gases produced by a particular company or person. As part of its commitment, the Caisse says it will be reducing its exposure to the most carbon-intensive assets in its portfolio, such as activities related to coal. The pension fund will also begin disclosing data on the portfolio's greenhouse gas emissions in its annual report.

The Quebec-based pension fund is part of a growing tide of institutional investors - which includes giants such as Vanguard and BlackRock Inc. - pressing companies for more information on how they will manage the transition to a low-carbon economy. Companies in carbon-heavy industries such as energy and mining face the highest pressure, as investors fear being stuck holding stranded assets: companies who fail to plan for the future and whose valuations will likely plummet as a result.

"It's a risk that we could be left holding the bag in a Minsky Moment and it could be quite costly," says Toby Heaps, chief executive and co-founder of Corporate Knights Inc., a Toronto-based organization focused on corporate social responsibility. "I wouldn't say we need to sound the fire alarm, but certainly it's time to pause and take a serious look at how we can accelerate our transition to a lowcarbon economy."

The pressure has catapulted climate risk to the top of the agenda in many of Canada's boardrooms as companies grapple with how to measure, mitigate and disclose potential liabilities. Last year, the board at Suncor Energy Inc. recommended that shareholders approve a proposal put forward by NEI Investments to enhance the company's climate-related disclosures.

Shareholders voted overwhelmingly in favour of the resolution.

Suncor president, CEO and director Steve Williams says the company has made efforts to bolster its sustainability efforts, including by elevating carbon risk to one of its principal risks.

"Although we have had a climate action plan since 1997, 2017 was the first year that we released a report outlining the long-term resilience of our strategy," Mr. Williams said in an e-mail. "We also have better discussions with shareholders and include a 10-year forward-looking impact of carbon pricing on our costs and net asset value."

But even as directors train their sights on this growing liability, experts caution that a lack of consistency between how various companies measure and disclose climate-related risks leaves much work to be done.

"There aren't defined standards on exactly what companies should be measuring and how to measure it and how to report on it," says Andrew MacDougall, a partner at Osler, Hoskin & Harcourt LLP who specializes in corporate governance.

"The practices tend to vary between issuers, not only in terms of the amount of disclosure that is available, but also the elements that are disclosed."

There is a dizzying number of best-practice guidelines for climate disclosures, including the recommendations put out recently by a task force struck up by the Financial Stability Board, the international body established in 2009 to monitor financial risk. The lack of consistency between how companies measure and disclose climate risk often leaves investors comparing apples with oranges.

Some companies, such as Barrick Gold Corp., have opted to combine the "hodgepodge" of guidelines into their own internal best-practice standards. "We look at the best ones, the ones that are most applicable," said Peter Sinclair, Barrick's chief sustainability officer.

Climate change has taken on an increased sense of urgency in corporate boardrooms since the signing of the Paris climate accord in 2015. Nearly 200 countries have signed on to the global agreement that aims to tackle climate change.

Canada's resource-heavy stock markets may be particularly vulnerable to a potential "carbon bubble" in the valuations of fossil-fuel-dependent companies. Combined, energy and mining companies make up 20 per cent of the issuers on the Toronto Stock Exchange, compared with only 2 per cent for clean technology and renewableenergy companies. The disparity is even wider on the TSX Venture Exchange, where mining and oil and gas companies account for 68 per cent of the index, compared with 4 per cent for renewables.

Additionally, Mr. Heaps says Canada lags its global peers in terms of the amount of disclosure provided to investors. He points to the fact that Canadian companies aren't legally required to report their direct and indirect greenhouse gas emissions, although a number of them do so voluntarily.

"We have leading companies, and institutions that are leaders globally, but in aggregate, we are big laggards," Mr. Heaps said.

There are a myriad of ways in which climate change can impact a business. Severe weather events such as floods, hurricanes and forest fires can prompt oil producers to shut down some of their sites, as was seen during the forest fires that ravaged Fort McMurray last year.

But extreme-weather events can have a financial impact on businesses outside the resource sector, as well. For instance, a company may have a major supplier or vendor located in Fort McMurray or other disaster-affected regions.

In September, Quebec-based Alimentation Couche-Tard Inc. reported that its convenience-store chain was hurt by Hurricane Harvey. The TSX-listed company said that 123 of its Texas stores were affected to various degrees and had to close for a period of time. The financial toll of the closings, which occurred just after the company's first quarter, has yet to be reported.

"I think virtually every company is exposed to some degree," says Jennifer Longhurst, a partner at Davies Ward Phillips & Vineberg LLP. "The job is to figure out how much."

For mining companies, paying close attention to their environmental footprint - including their carbon emissions and how they manage their tailings ponds - is of the utmost importance. That's why the resource sector is typically more sophisticated than others when it comes to measuring and disclosing climate-related risk, Ms. Longhurst says.

Barrick Gold director Nancy Lockhart says the company's adherence to environmental policy is key to maintaining the co-operation of the local communities where the mining giant operates.

"Our license to operate depends on us having strong environmental policies, making sure our people go home safe every day, paying attention to human rights and just general corporate social-responsibility issues," said Ms. Lockhart, who also chairs Barrick's corporate responsibility committee.

Beverley Briscoe, vice-chair of the Goldcorp Inc. board, echoes the sentiment, calling the board's role in the oversight of environmental risk "critically important." In recent years, the company's board and other stakeholders have placed increased emphasis on its published sustainability reports, Ms. Briscoe said in an e-mail.

"These public reports have improved the transparency and accountability of the company's stewardship of the environment," Ms. Briscoe said. "I expect that this increase in transparency and accountability will continue as the understanding of climate change and environmental risk evolves."

Another financial risk associated with climate change is the regulatory burden. Companies may see their costs rise in the future as a result of carbon-pricing programs and other regulatory changes - including if securities regulators mandate a higher level of disclosure.

Earlier this year, the Canadian Securities Administrators launched a review of the current state of climate-change disclosure in Canada.

The report is expected to be published next year.

"Currently, reporting issuers in Canada are required to disclose material risks, which may include risks associated with climate change, among other environmental matters, in their periodic disclosure," a spokesperson for the Ontario Securities Commission said in an e-mail.

Although much of the conversation about climate change is focused on risk, Mr. Sabia notes that there are positives, as well.

"There are going to be huge investment opportunities created here - smart grids, solar power, wind power, battery technology, urban transit, environmentallly friendly real estate," he says. "This coin has two sides."


Average Board Games score 2017: 73 2012: 68

Percentage scoring below 50 2017: 7 2012: 16

Percentage scoring 80 or higher 2017: 38 2012: 29

Percentage with a majority of related* directors 2017: 2 2012: 5

Percentage that do not split roles of chair and CEO 2017: 13 2012: 16

Percentage with dual-class shares or unequal voting rights 2017: 14 2012: 14

Percentage with "say on pay" votes 2017: 63 2012: 33

Percentage with no women on their boards 2017: 11 2012: 41

Percentage with at least one quarter of board members who are women 2017: 39 2012: 12

Percentage of female directors on S&P/TSX index boards 2017: 21 2014: 15

*Related as defined by Board Games criteria, available online at

Associated Graphic

Michael Sabia, CEO of the Caisse de dépôt et placement du Québec, is taking steps to place climate-related factors at the core of the pension fund's strategy.


Not a piece of cake
The Cheesecake Factory is the most anticipated addition ever for Canada's busiest mall, but success for the American giant is far from guaranteed in a crowded and declining casual dining world
Saturday, November 18, 2017 – Print Edition, Page M1

When The Cheesecake Factory announced last spring that it was launching its first Canadian location at Yorkdale Shopping Centre, customers immediately wanted to know if they could make reservations - months in advance of the opening. The news went viral as Torontonians rejoiced that they would no longer have to drive south to experience the prominent U.S. restaurant chain's 250-plus item menu.

A number of American restaurants have entered the Canadian market in recent years, but none have been as highly anticipated as the arrival of The Cheesecake Factory, which has inspired a cult following from professional athletes to suburban moms. Even Drake is an unabashed fan.

For Yorkdale, the country's busiest mall with 18 million visitors a year, the opening of The Cheesecake Factory this week is a major win. The chain, which has 210 locations in the United States and another 18 internationally, targets premium shopping centres, where it sends waiting diners off to shop with mobile buzzers that signal when their tables are ready.

Yorkdale has had several Canadian "firsts" this year, including the launch of outlets for Britain's Dyson appliance company and the British clothing brand Hunter, but the excitement over the new restaurant in unprecedented, said Claire Santamaria, the mall's director. "With every opening we kept getting asked, 'But when is The Cheesecake Factory opening?' " But even with all the buzz, the restaurant's success is far from guaranteed. Numerous foreign chains, both food and retail, have tried to enter the Canadian market. Some, such as Five Guys, have succeeded, while others, such as P.F. Chang's and, most notably, Target, have failed. Well-established domestic restaurant chains are already struggling, challenged by a rise in food-delivery services and trendier, smaller and more diverse restaurants.

While Canadians are eating out as much as ever, their tastes are changing. Fast-food sales saw a jump last year to $26-billion and 4.5 billion visits, according to data from the NPD Group research firm.

But sit-down casual restaurants saw a slight 2 per cent dip to $22-billion, and a 4 per cent drop in traffic to 1.3 billion visits.

The Cheesecake Factory, like other leading U.S. chains such as Chili's and BJ's, has been battling a similar trend south of the border.

After several years of growth, the California-based company saw its sales drop 2.3 per cent in the third quarter of fiscal 2017. Its stock tumbled 32 per cent since its high point in May. CEO David Overton blamed the drop in sales on poor weather, saying it hurt the restaurants' patio traffic. But analysts pointed to broader trends, with a Bloomberg article declaring "Cheesecake Factory Inc.'s status as a bright spot in the gloomy casualdining industry is beginning to fade."

Still, Yorkdale and The Cheesecake Factory remain confident, believing they have the "X factor" to make it work.

"We've had so many Canadian guests dining with us for so long in the States," said Cheesecake Factory spokeswoman Alethea Rowe, adding that the fame of the brand separates it from others.

The restaurant began in 1978 when Mr. Overton turned his mother's modest cheesecake bakery into a full-blown restaurant in Beverly Hills, Calif. The Cheesecake Factory prides itself on consistency in its locations around the world, thanks to a methodical approach to each of its menu items. A 2012 New Yorker piece by U.S. doctor and writer Atul Gawande even said that the medical industry could learn a thing or two from the restaurant's capability to make such a wide variety of dishes taste exactly the same, every time. He found that the kitchen operated as an actual factory, where prep cooks made ready-made portions for the cooks to use in step-by-step instructions that were provided on a touch screen. It was all topped off with every dish being given a rating out of 10 on its way out of the kitchen, adding a sense of quality control that not even hospitals have.

It's that predictability that Ms. Rowe believes Canadians will embrace. She called on the example of a diner at the restaurant's training day this week, who said the experience at Yorkdale mirrored the experience in the United States.

"It tasted just like what she had in Orlando as a child, so it's recreating those experiences that you can't get anywhere else," she said.

There were rumours about the chain coming to Canada as long as 15 years ago, but Ms. Rowe says the company made the decision now primarily because of the location at Yorkdale. Last year, Yorkdale finished a $331-million expansion project, which added 300,000 square feet and made room for brands such as Uniqlo and Nordstrom.

The mall will serve as a solid base where The Cheesecake Factory can get a feel for the Canadian market and see if expansion is a possibility, and is similar to the kinds of locations the chain has in the United States.

"We like to open and see how it does before getting too ahead of ourselves," Ms. Rowe said. "It's sort of a slow, methodical approach. ... We take the same approach with all of our openings in new countries."

The Cheesecake Factory has licensed restaurants in Mexico, China and the United Arab Emirates, but its location in Toronto is the first corporate-owned store outside the United States.

Opening a corporate store represents a concerted effort to establish a Canadian presence, according to Robert Carter, a retail and food analyst with NPD Group.

"When you've got a corporate store, then you can have tighter controls and deeper pockets to run that store," Mr. Carter said.

"The risk is that they bring that U.S. corporate mentality to the Canadian market and might not understand the differences between the two markets."

Mr. Carter is cautious when it comes to the hype around the new opening.

"They're coming into the market where they've got a relative brand strength, so they may get trial," said Mr. Carter, but he says customers giving it a try isn't necessarily good enough when the casual dining market is as competitive as it is in Canada.

"The casual-dining segment, since 2008, has experienced a steady decline in traffic ... so they're coming in at a time when their area of the market is really challenged."

He says the stakes are even higher when casual dining only makes up 12 per cent of the restaurant industry in Canada. That percentage is daunting when you consider that most casual dining customers only go out once or twice a month, and making them choose The Cheesecake Factory is a tough task when brands such as The Keg have deep roots in the community.

He also says that some of the characteristics that make The Cheesecake Factory special, such as its large portion sizes for cheesecake slices and entrée items such asburritos or cheese steaks, may not resonate with Canadians.

"They have to have something that's so much more appealing and that resonates with customers, compared to Pickle Barrel, Moxie's and Joey's, and all the other casualdining concepts," said Mr. Carter, adding that brands from Western Canada, such as Earls and Cactus Club, have expanded into Ontario as well.

Douglas Fisher, a food analyst at consulting firm FHG International, is more optimistic, but said it's unpredictable how even popular American food chains will play out when they move north of the border.

"Everything comes in hot and then the market reacts in its own way," Mr. Fisher said.

"Most have come up and done poorly, some have come up and done well. I don't think there's much of a prediction - it's a good solid company with a well-rounded menu, but there's lots of Americans who've come up here and had minimal growth."

He pointed to two burger restaurants, Five Guys and Carl's Jr., as examples. Both had launches in Toronto, but Five Guys has prospered while Carl's Jr. closed up shop. They both focused on similar burger products and he says it's hard to explain why one failed and the other didn't.

Both Mr. Fisher and Mr. Carter say that the restaurant's ability to keep attracting customers after its first year will be telling as to whether the expansion was a success or a flash in the pan.

What everyone agrees on is that having The Cheesecake Factory at Yorkdale is good news for the mall itself.

Mr. Carter and Ms. Santamaria both said that The Cheesecake Factory's status as a destination in itself will help bring customers to the mall at a time when physical retail is losing customers to online shopping.

And despite whatever analysts are saying, the company's Ms. Rowe says that they're confident moving forward.

"Hopefully we'll do well here, which means hopefully we'll have more locations."

Associated Graphic

The finishing touches are put on the façade of the Cheesecake Factory at the Yorkdale Shopping Centre where the U.S. chain restaurant is opening its first Canadian location.


Servers at The Cheesecake Factory at Yorkdale mall celebrate before the restaurant's soft opening on Thursday.


The Cheesecake Factory is well-known for its consistency in its locations and its methodical approach to its menu items.

Canada to stand firm against U.S. protectionist demands as NAFTA talks resume
Ottawa believes failing to reach a deal is better than agreeing to a bad one
Tuesday, November 14, 2017 – Print Edition, Page A1

WASHINGTON, TORONTO, OTTAWA -- Canada will give no ground on the Trump administration's protectionist demands when the renegotiation of the North American free-trade agreement resumes this week in Mexico City, but will try to quickly reach deals on easier issues in hopes of showing goodwill, sources familiar with Ottawa's strategy said.

The Trudeau government is well aware that taking a hard line on Washington's "poison pill" proposals risks blowing up the talks, said the sources, who spoke on condition of anonymity to describe confidential discussions. But Ottawa believes failing to reach a deal on NAFTA is better than agreeing to a bad one.

Mexico is in a similar place. One source characterized Enrique Pena Nieto's administration as being in the fifth stage of grief: acceptance that there may be no avoiding the end of the deal.

Outside the talks, Canadian officials will continue their long-running outreach campaign to NAFTA-friendly U.S. businesses and politicians, in hopes of both cranking up domestic pressure on the White House to back off its toughest demands and mobilize Congress to oppose President Donald Trump if he tries to pull the United States out of the pact, the sources said.

No matter how badly talks go, the sources said, Canada is determined to stay at the table and force the Trump administration to decide whether it will pull the plug. One person said that if negotiations become permanently deadlocked - or Mr. Trump ends up in a standoff with Congress on whether he has the unilateral power to pull the United States out of the pact - this would not be the worst outcome for Canada as the current deal would simply remain in place.

Now, a pact governing $1.3-trillion in annual trade hangs in the balance as Canada braces for a bargaining table showdown with the world's most powerful country and sets a collision course with its volatile President.

"The Canadian government has shown that it is tough at the negotiating table, at the same time showing a willingness to continue with the process. But it's been faced with aggressive and unyielding U.S. demands," said Lawrence Herman, a veteran Toronto-based trade lawyer.

"We'll know what the likelihood is of these negotiations going further in the Mexican round. The prognosis is not good."

In Ottawa's view, Washington's main protectionist demands are so far beyond the pale of any modern free-trade agreement that - at least for now - negotiators must continue to hold a hard line against them all, according to sources with knowledge of the Canadian thinking.

These include proposals to require that vehicles made in Canada and Mexico contain 50-per-cent U.S. content; gut or eliminate the disputeresolution mechanisms in Chapters 11, 19 and 20; severely limit the amount of U.S. public procurement Canadian and Mexican firms can bid on; and add a sunset clause that would kill NAFTA in five years unless all parties agreed to keep it.

Canada does, however, believe it can build negotiating momentum by swiftly reaching agreement on less contentious issues, such as slashing red tape at the border and facilitating international e-commerce, the sources said. Some negotiators see a third category in between the non-negotiable proposals and the easy ones: matters that will be tough but that Ottawa might be willing to deal on.

These include raising Canada's $20 cap on duty-free online purchases, tightening intellectual-property protections and granting more access to Canada's protected dairy market. It will, however, be tough for the Canadians to make any compromises on such matters while the first set of protectionist U.S. demands remains on the table, sources said.

The Trudeau government has for weeks been fully prepared for the United States to tear up NAFTA.

Sources with knowledge of Ottawa's thinking said some officials were bracing for the Trump administration to trigger the Article 2205 withdrawal procedure during the fourth round of talks last month near Washington. Instead Robert Lighthizer, Mr. Trump's trade czar, surprised Canada when he opened an Oct. 17 meeting with Foreign Minister Chrystia Freeland at his office by announcing he wanted to scrap the U.S.-imposed year-end deadline for a deal, extend talks to March and take more time between negotiating rounds.

Meanwhile, Ottawa is continuing its push to get free-trade-friendly American business and politicians to knock the Trump administration off its hardline positions. The idea is to use this pressure strategically, said people with knowledge of Canada's plans. Rather than have U.S. companies bombard the White House all at once, the plan is to line up American allies and keep them on standby, ready to jump in at the right moment. When negotiators are discussing procurement at the bargaining table, for instance, that would be the time for American firms with Canadian government contracts to launch a lobbying blitz.

The U.S. business community has been making a full-court press, trying to show the White House that its protectionist ambitions would hurt American industry. But the administration does not seem to be getting this message.

"I don't know that we've heard any particular acknowledgment of the arguments that we've made at a political level," said Christine Bliss, president of the Coalition of Services Industries, which represents companies from high-tech to insurance to finance. "Where is this going and what's the strategy? We honestly don't know."

Ms. Bliss said a vast swath of the U.S. service industry would be hurt if markets between the three countries closed up. American firms, for instance, provide insurance for three-quarters of Mexican government employees, she said. But she said the administration's consistent response in meetings is that the White House is mostly focused on the manufacturing sector, which it believes has suffered because of NAFTA.

Even in manufacturing, however, American firms are alarmed at what Mr. Trump is trying to do.

Several U.S. auto-industry trade associations last month joined together for what they said was the first time in their history to defend NAFTA. Groups representing the Detroit Three auto makers and their global rivals said seven million auto jobs are at risk if the deal is terminated. The group has formed a coalition called Driving American Jobs, with a website that provided a form letter for members to download and send to members of Congress.

"When you examine the data, there's no question that NAFTA has helped advance the global competitiveness of the U.S. auto industry," Matt Blunt, president of the American Automotive Policy Council, said in a statement. In a presentation in Washington last week he warned that, without NAFTA, tariff and other costs would be equivalent to "a $10-billion tax" on U.S. consumers buying cars.

The President's own congressional caucus could also prove a counterweight to the White House.

Unlike Mr. Trump, most of the Republican Party hews to a traditional pro-business line on free trade.

During Prime Minister Justin Trudeau's meeting last month with the House ways and means committee, not a single member advocated tearing up NAFTA, said one person who was in the room. Members of the committee, which has jurisdiction over trade, suggested various ways to improve the deal, but all were supportive of largely keeping the open market in place, the source said.

Republican Senator Pat Roberts of Kansas last month said he has personally lobbied Mr. Trump on the benefits of free trade on three occasions. "We are fighting a pervasive view that our economy has not benefited from NAFTA and that is simply not right. We are coming to a crossroads," Mr. Roberts said in a speech at the U.S. Chamber of Commerce. "Saddle up."

Mr. Roberts said "it might be an option" for Congress to craft legislation that would restrain Mr. Trump from pulling the United States out of NAFTA, but he still hoped U.S. business could talk him down from the ledge: "Let's hope we don't get to that."

Given the chasm between the Trump administration's demands on one side and the Canadian, Mexican and U.S. industry position on the other, some observers said it was hard to imagine how the talks could come back from the brink.

Flavio Volpe, president of the Automotive Parts Manufacturers Association of Canada, said the U.S. desire to extend the talks is at odds with its stringent demands. "If you put that many poison pills on the table, it says to me that you wanted the result of that to be people leaving the table," Mr. Volpe said.

"When they don't leave the table, you've got a major rethink."

Robert Holleyman, a high-ranking trade official in the Obama administration, said Mr. Lighthizer seems to be serious about getting a deal, but it's an open question whether he can find an agreement everyone - from Canada and Mexico to Mr. Trump - can get behind.

"How the United States squares its differences is difficult to see," he said. "We are in a time of significant uncertainty and potential peril if we cannot find a way through."

Associated Graphic

Prime Minister Justin Trudeau shakes hands with U.S. President Donald Trump as they take their seats during the opening ceremony of the 31st ASEAN Summit in Manila on Monday. Mr. Trudeau's government has been prepared for the United States to tear up NAFTA for weeks.


Ace Blue Jays pitcher was a fan favourite
After a dozen seasons with Toronto, he went to the Phillies and pitched a perfect game and a no-hitter in the same season
Special to The Globe and Mail
Tuesday, November 14, 2017 – Print Edition, Page S7

On the pitching mound Roy Halladay exuded the irritated frustration of a master craftsman never quite satisfied with his own work.

A fierce will to succeed made him a glowering presence on the baseball diamond. He stood 6 foot 6 and weighed 225 pounds, a pitcher dominating both in stature and execution. His favourite weapon in a four-pitch repertoire was a crisp, sinking fastball. He also threw a falloff-the-table curveball, which left many batters swinging foolishly at air.

The broadcaster Tom Cheek nicknamed him Doc after the Wild West gunslinger Doc Holliday, a fitting moniker for a fireballer who had five seasons in which he struck out more than 200 batters.

Mr. Halladay, who died at 40 in the crash of a recreational plane he was piloting along the Florida coast, was one of the best pitchers of his generation. He becomes eligible for induction into the Baseball Hall of Fame at Cooperstown, N.Y., in 2019, five full seasons after his retirement as a player.

On the field, he showed a poker face of grim determination. Off the field, he was a kindly, smiling, likeable figure.

The right-hander spent a dozen seasons in Toronto with the Blue Jays, becoming a fan favourite both for his skill as a hurler and his generosity as a philanthropist. He and his wife ran a program called Doc's Box in which children suffering from chronic and fatal illnesses got a brief respite from their travails by being treated like royalty in private seats at the Rogers Centre. The couple also donated $100,000 annually to the team's Jays Care foundation for disadvantaged children and youth.

A workhorse considered a throwback to the days when starting pitchers expected to finish a game, Mr. Halladay won the Cy Young Award as the top pitcher in both the American League (with the Blue Jays in 2003) and the National League (with the Philadelphia Phillies in 2010). It was with the Phillies that he pitched a perfect game - no opposing players reached base - against the Florida Marlins on May 29, 2010. Later that same season, he threw a nohitter in the first game of the National League Division Series against the Cincinnati Reds, only the second no-hitter in all of baseball's postseason play.

Mr. Halladay spent countless hours in training to stay in shape and to improve his game. His dedication to conditioning was such that he arrived at the Rogers Centre each day of a home game at dawn, so early he needed to be given a card of his own to enter the building.

A loss of control and confidence early in his stint with the Blue Jays could have rendered him a journeyman footnote to baseball history had his stubborn nature not driven a comeback that resuscitated his career.

Harry LeRoy Halladay III was born in Denver on May 14, 1977. He was the middle child and only son of three children born to Linda Jean (née King) and Harry LeRoy Halladay Jr., a corporate pilot. As a boy in suburban Aurora, Roy threw baseballs into a mattress placed against a wall. When the family looked for a new home in Arvada, a suburban city northwest of Denver, they sought one with a basement at least 60 feet, six inches long, the distance from the pitching mound to home plate. Once they found a suitable residence, a pitching machine and batting cage were installed. When not taking batting practice, he threw balls at a car tire suspended from the ceiling.

"All that time in the basement," he told the Denver Post in 2002, "that's probably the biggest reason why I'm standing here today."

He made the varsity team at Arvada West High School as a freshman, leading the Wildcats to a state championship in his junior year. He was also a varsity athlete in basketball and cross-country running.

A serious nature made his occasional foray into baseball tomfoolery more effective. He once caused a conniption by showing up for an important game with a cast on his healthy throwing arm.

As a teenager, the pitcher worked with legendary scout and pitching coach Robert Bruce (Bus) Campbell, a grandfather figure who refused to be paid for his sessions with the aspiring athlete. The coach recommended Mr. Halladay to the Blue Jays, who selected the tall pitcher with the strong arm in the first round, No. 17 over all, of the 1995 draft. He had been rated as the 27th best prospect by Baseball America magazine.

After he signed with the Blue Jays, Mr. Halladay bought his personal coach a grandfather clock (and, later, a satellite dish) and spent another $11,000 to replace the fence on his high school's baseball field.

The jump from high school to professional sports meant he did not do the missionary work expected of young Mormons. Sports Illustrated magazine has described him as being non-practising.

After three campaigns of seasoning in the minor leagues, Mr. Halladay was a late-season call-up to the parent club in 1998. In only his second start, he carried a no-hitter into the top of the ninth at Rogers Centre only to have Bobby Higginson of the Detroit Tigers smack a two-strike, pinch-hit home run. The pitcher managed to get the next out for a 2-1 victory, the first of his career. He would go on to win 203 games against just 105 losses. That was also the first of 67 complete games.

Mr. Halladay did not immediately earn a spot on the roster. In 2001, the Blue Jays demoted him three levels, news so grim they had a psychologist break it to him. At 24, he wondered if his baseball career was over. With the aid of his wife, some tough-love coaching from Mel Queen and a worn, second-hand copy of the book The Mental ABCs of Pitching, he managed to regain both his confidence and his pitching touch. The Toronto Star later described this period as "95 days of purgatory." Mr. Halladay established himself as Toronto's ace by recording 19 wins in 2002 and 22 wins the following year.

It was his misfortune to be a championship-calibre pitcher on mediocre Blue Jays teams. He permitted a trade to the Phillies to get a chance to perform in the baseball playoffs.

A nagging back injury, which affected his delivery, in turn causing soreness to his shoulder, persuaded Mr. Halladay to hang up his glove.

He did not want to be an average player. He signed a one-day contract with Toronto in 2013 so he could retire as a Blue Jay.

Mr. Halladay was inducted into the Colorado Sports Hall of Fame in Denver in 2015. In June, he was inducted into the Canadian Baseball Hall of Fame.

"It was a privilege to live and play in Canada for as long as I did," he told the crowd at the induction ceremony at St. Marys, Ont. "The people here were kind, supportive, respectful and always seemed to welcome me home even when I came to visit and sat in the wrong dugout."

In retirement, he served as a baseball coach for both of his sons, including serving as pitching coach for the Warriors of Calvary Christian High School in Clearwater, Fla.

The end of his playing days meant he could indulge a lifelong passion for flight. He spent $400,000 (U.S.) on a sleek, futuristic, two-seat amphibious aircraft, a decision his wife originally opposed. She changed her mind after he took her for a tour aboard an ICON A5, which was recorded and used by the company as a promotional video. Mr. Halladay's enthusiastic tweets described the sensation as being "like flying a fighter jet."

On Nov. 7, Mr. Halladay was alone in the aircraft, one of fewer than two dozen in service, when it crashed in shallow waters of the Gulf of Mexico off the Florida coast. (Earlier this year, the plane's designer and an engineer died in a crash in California.) He leaves his wife, the former Brandy Gates, with whom he would have marked his 19th anniversary later this month, as well as their sons, Braden and Ryan; his parents; and sisters, Merinda Halladay and Heather Halladay Basile. A full list of whom he leaves was unavailable.

Within hours of the news of his death, baseball fans suggested ways to honour the pitcher. Some urged the Blue Jays to retire his No. 32 uniform.

The broadcaster Dan Shulman called for the creation of an award named after Mr. Halladay for the pitcher who throws the most innings each season.

A public celebration of his life is scheduled for 7,000-seat Spectrum Field in Clearwater on Tuesday at 4 p.m. EST. It is set to be shown live in Canada by at least one television sports channel.

To submit an I Remember: Send us a memory of someone we have recently profiled on the Obituaries page. Please include I Remember in the subject field.

Associated Graphic

Roy Halladay, seen pitching against the Minnesota Twins in Toronto in 2005, was so dedicated to honing his craft that he arrived at the Rogers Centre each day of a home game at dawn - so early he needed to be given a card of his own to enter the building.


Regina's Taylor Field now a field of dreams
Saturday, October 28, 2017 – Print Edition, Page S1

Amy Dormuth and her husband Alex stood in the cold on the east side of Regina's Taylor Field for an hour and a half Friday. They were there to watch a demolition crew tear down the stadium's west grandstand - known as "the shady side" to Saskatchewan Roughriders fans. Hundreds of people joined the Dormuths. Scores more watched from rooftops throughout Regina. School kids watched it in class. The Canadian Forces Snowbirds flew over Taylor Field.

"One last hoorah for the old girl," said Amy Dormuth, who wore a Riders bunnyhug, which is what Saskatchewanians call a hooded sweatshirt that has a singular pocket at the belly and lacks a zipper.

She surprised herself by not crying.

"There was no explosion at all.

Just a crumple of metal and down it went. No kaboom at all," the 33year-old fan said. "Just my heart exploded."

The shady side tipped forward, on to where the Riders used to play, at about 2:20 p.m. local time.

Dust clouded the blue sky. "It didn't take as long to fall as I thought [it would], but it was also happening in slow motion," said Dormuth, who is part of a fan podcast.

The CFL team and its predecessors played on this patch of land full time for eight decades. Taylor Field had been on life support for years, its deficiencies addressed by patchwork, and even its death was prolonged as demo crews spent an extra hour and 20 minutes preparing for the collapse.

The shady side was 39 years old.

It is survived by the sunny side on the field's eastern edge, although those stands are dying a slow death. The shady side was predeceased by its counterparts on the north and south sides of the openair stadium.

Taylor Field birthed and nurtured Rider Pride, populated by folks known for wearing watermelon helmets supporting the underdog.

Regina, knowing Rider Nation is fanatical, set up viewing areas for Friday's crash. The collapse took down a section that was 100 metres wide, 40 metres high and 17 metres deep. Part of the shady side had already been removed.

The Riders' spiritual home has a permanent place in the country's history, recognized as one of Canada's most electrifying sports facilities. While Canada's broader population can, to some degree, understand Taylor Field's legacy, only Rider loyalists know that inside the gates, the stadium operated under a culture of segregation.

Roughriders fans are rightfully considered brainwashed maniacs, so in love with the Green and White that, in 2015, Insightrix Research Inc. determined the team's brand strength ranked third in the country, behind the Montreal Canadians and the Toronto Maple Leafs, respectively. To put that in context, the research firm noted Saskatchewan accounts for just 3 per cent of Canada's population.

Insightrix asked 2,700 sports fans questions about five topics: the first team that comes to mind; respect for the club; perception of most loyal fans; popularity; and the atmosphere of the team's home stadium or arena. The survey covered Canada's 21 professional sports teams.

Only 2.8 per cent of respondents mentioned the Roughriders when asked to rattle off the first three Canadian teams that came to mind.

The Riders, however, gained ground in other categories. Roughly 12 per cent of the survey's participants believed the Riders had the most loyal fans, putting the team third behind the Habs and the Leafs. Taylor Field came in sixth when fans considered which arena or stadium had the best atmosphere. The survey's participants, however, assumed Taylor Field would finish third.

Where you sat in Taylor Field reflected your lot in life: how you perceived yourself and others, how much money you had, how much you were likely to drink. Taylor Field hosted a microsociety with a class system. And the west grandstand - with its back blocking the sun and wind and overhang shielding patrons in its highest benches from rain and snow - represented the top of the social pyramid.

Season-ticket holders and folks with more disposable income gravitated to the shady side's 14,463 spots. Its constituents were calm, by Rider standards. The Dormuths called it Shady Pines. They preferred the eastern benches - known as the sunny side, which encompassed the university section and was known for its rowdiness. The sunny side's bleachers, on the visiting team's side of the field, were exposed to Saskatchewan's moody weather.

Suzanne White grew up in Regina and now lives in Canmore, Alta. As a kid, she considered the shady side lame. "It was the grown-up side," White said. "Fancy."

Her parents tried to restrict her to the grandstand when she was younger, but she strayed to the sunny side when she could get away with it. Now, at 43, the cycle of life has changed her attitude. "The sunny side would just be too intense.

I'm too old. I'd be: 'Get off my lawn, you crazy kids.' "Jeremy Powlowski reckons he has attended about 50 Rider games over his 41 years. He graduated to the shady side, which is behind the home team's bench, when he got his first "big boy job."

"Once you go there, it's hard to go back," Powlowski said. "Especially on a plus-40 day or a minus-40 day, the shady side was the only place to be."

The popular onion grill and whispers of culinary superiority helped fuel west-side righteousness. "Legend has it that the shady side had better food," said Powlowski, who now holds season tickets. "Like you could get perogies on the shady side but you couldn't get them on the sunny side."

Taylor Field's stratification extended beyond the east and west stands.

Rowdies who procrastinated or couldn't afford to buy those tickets congregated in the Family Fun Zone's stands behind the north end zone. The stadium's undisputed gutter tickets were for Hemorrhoid Hill, behind the south end zone. No weather protection. No benches. Just ground. The football club only sold tickets there when demand outpaced supply. Translation: Hemorrhoid Hill was a staple at Labour Day Classics between the Roughriders and the Winnipeg Blue Bombers.

"You couldn't see anything so we would just sit there behind the CBC monitor ... and we'd just watch the game on TV," White said. "But we were there."

Even fans who weren't on the edges of the Riders' rectangle were part of Taylor Field's seating system.

Diehards with homes north of Taylor Field watched from their rooftops.

Temporary seating made Taylor Field's capacity flexible and its record clocked in at 55,438 on Oct 14, 1995. Permanent seating came to the south around 2012, as part of Taylor Field's scattershot approach to upgrading the facility.

The Riders played their last home game at Taylor Field on Oct. 29, 2016, losing 24-6 to the BC Lions. Saskatchewan's community-owned football team now plays in a new $278.2-million stadium. The final price tag on the new digs, however, is expected to climb.

The Mosaic Co. bought the naming rights to Taylor Field in its final years and showed respect for the province's history by renaming it Mosaic Stadium at Taylor Field. The new facility is known simply as Mosaic Stadium. It holds 33,000 seats, with room to expand to 40,000.

Budget Demolition, which took down the Hamilton Tiger-Cats' Ivor Wynne Stadium in 2013, is in charge of Taylor Field's deconstruction. The stadium's demise is part of a larger vision for Regina. The deconstruction will create a 20-acre blank canvas, which the city hopes will fuel its future rather than nostalgia. The city envisions a revitalized mixed-use community within walking distance of Taylor Field's replacement. "We expect the plan to include a range of housing options to help meet the diverse needs of Regina's growing population while respecting the heritage of Regina's north central neighbourhood," the city's vision reads.

The entire bill for Taylor Field's deconstruction is $2.01-million, although fans offset this cost by paying a collective $80,000 for 14,500 square feet of turf and 880 benches. The Dormuths forked over $55 for their old bench and had to extract it themselves. They installed their spots - Section 27, Row 34, Seats 6 and 7 - in their spare bedroom and sold the rest of the row to their fellow bench mates.

The Dormuths have season tickets in the new stadium, which provides weather protection to all despite its open roof. "The stadium is fabulous," Dormuth said. "I love it. You can flush all the toilets at the same time in the bathroom. There's hot running water in the bathroom."

But it doesn't feel like home yet.

The demure culture in section 641 doesn't suit the Dormuths. They think it is populated by people who used to sit in Taylor Field's shady side.

"We're planning on moving next year," Dormuth said.

Associated Graphic

A crew for a demolition company brings down the west-side grandstand - known as 'the shady side' - of Regina's venerable Taylor Field football stadium on Friday. The Roughriders now play in a new $278.2-million stadium nearby. The Taylor Field site will be redeveloped.


Health Canada eyes opioid restrictions for popular painkiller
Wednesday, November 22, 2017 – Print Edition, Page A1

Health Canada has launched a review of the increasingly popular pharmaceutical drug tramadol - a move that could prompt the department to reverse its controversial, decade-old decision not to classify the medication as an opioid.

A change in the classification would put the drug on the same regulatory footing as opioids such as morphine, hydromorphone and oxycodone. It would also subject tramadol to tighter controls and enhanced reporting and record keeping.

Health Canada told The Globe and Mail late Tuesday that it is launching the review in response to recent data showing a dramatic rise in tramadol prescriptions. Once the assessment is complete, the department will determine whether the drug should be reclassified and regulated as an opioid. Currently, the painkiller is marketed in Canada as a non-opioid.

"Scheduling decisions are done in consultation with stakeholders, in order to balance all views," a spokesman said in an e-mail.

The review coincides with the release of new figures Wednesday from the Canadian Institute for Health Information (CIHI) that provide the most comprehensive publicly released national review of opioid-prescribing trends. The report reveals for the first time that doctors dispensed smaller quantities of opioids for shorter durations in each prescription between 2015 and 2016. While the institute describes the overall decline as "good news," it also highlighted concerns related to the growing use of two drugs - tramadol and hydromorphone.

Prescriptions for tramadol rose 30 per cent between 2012 and 2016.

The CIHI report notes that Health Canada allows the drug to be marketed as a non-narcotic even though the department recognized back in 2007 that higher-dose formulations of tramadol "may be abused or misused in the future."

Wednesday's report is aimed at addressing gaps in Canada's ability to monitor a worsening and deadly opioid epidemic.

Former health minister Jane Philpott pledged last November to create a central clearing house for tracking prescribing trends, emergency-department visits and overdose deaths.

Overprescribing is behind the opioid crisis, which has worsened in recent years with the arrival of illicit fentanyl, leading to a sharp spike in overdose deaths.

Canada ranks as the world's second-biggest consumer of pharmaceutical opioids.

A Globe and Mail investigation found that Ottawa and the provinces have failed to take adequate steps to stop the indiscriminate prescribing of opioids, a class of painkillers that includes hydromorphone, oxycodone and fentanyl.

The fact that tramadol is even included in CIHI's report is noteworthy. Because Health Canada considers tramadol to be a non-narcotic, the department does not list it as an opioid under the Controlled Drugs and Substances Act (CDSA). This puts the department out of step with international regulators. The World Health Organization and the United States' Drug Enforcement Administration classify tramadol as an opioid. As well, the manufacturers' own scientific descriptions describe tramadol as an "opioid analgesic."

"It kind of walks and talks like a narcotic, but it's not classified as one in Canada now," said report co-author Michael Gaucher, who is CIHI's director of pharmaceuticals and health workforce information services. He said the institute included the drug in its report in large part because CIHI follows WHO's classification system.

Because tramadol is not subject to the reporting requirements laid out in the CDSA, data about the extent of its abuse and misuse in Canada are lacking. South of the border, the U.S. Substance Abuse and Mental Health Services Administration found that the number of emergency-department visits related to the abuse or misuse of tramadol rose from 6,255 to 21,649 between 2005 and 2011 - an increase of roughly 250 per cent.

Tara Gomes, a scientist at Toronto's St. Michael's Hospital, described Ottawa's 2007 decision to continue to allow tramadol to be marketed as a non-opioid as a "strange" one. "We can start to see more people getting put on tramadol and being told that it is a safer alternative to other opioids, which is exactly what happened with OxyContin all those years ago, and we've seen what that did," she said.

Both Mr. Gaucher and Ms. Gomes spoke with The Globe before Health Canada's statement regarding the review.

When tramadol came on the market in Canada in 2005, it was sold as a low-dose product combined with acetaminophen - best known as the drug in Tylenol - and was not considered to pose a significant risk of dependence or abuse. By 2007, two drug companies gained approval for their once-daily, higher-dose formulations, even as one of those companies struggled to get the same product approved for sale in the United States.

That same year, Health Canada seriously considered - and then backed away from - a regulatory change that would have seen tramadol classified as a Schedule 1 drug under the CDSA.

According to a July 7, 2007, posting in the federal government's official newspaper, Health Canada recognized that higher doses of tramadol could lead to dependence in much the same way as other opioid painkillers, such as oxycodone and morphine.

"In particular, extended release formulations could be abused by dissolving, crushing, chewing or snorting the product, which may result in uncontrolled delivery of the opioid, and could result in overdose and death," the Canada Gazette posting said. "This regulatory amendment will benefit Canadians as the increased control of tramadol will serve to minimize its diversion, and the health risks associated with its illicit use."

The proposal was supported by provincial and territorial licensing bodies such as the College of Pharmacists of British Columbia and the Saskatchewan College of Pharmacists. However, the department faced resistance from officials from two tramadol manufacturers who expressed concern over the proposed change.

In the end, Health Canada did not go through with the regulatory change.

Two years later, in 2009, Health Canada conducted a second assessment of the health and safety risks associated with tramadol, but concluded that the drug did not warrant a reclassification as an opioid. "The available evidence suggested that tramadol had lower potential for abuse than other prescription opioids," the department said in its statement Tuesday evening.

The CIHI report also showed that doctors are prescribing higher-potency painkillers at an increasing rate, despite heightened awareness of the risks of addiction and overdoses associated with strong opioids.

Strong opioids accounted for 57.3 per cent of all prescription painkillers dispensed by retail pharmacies across Canada in 2016, a five-percentage-point increase from 2012.

Benedikt Fischer, a senior scientist at Toronto's Centre for Addiction and Mental Health, said it is not known whether the trend toward prescribing strong opioids has provided better care for patients - "probably not," he said - because the evidence for the efficacy of these drugs is limited.

"But it definitely has put a lot more people at higher risk, specifically in regard to misuse, potential addiction and also death," said Dr. Fischer, whose earlier research on opioid-prescribing trends is cited in the CIHI report.

The number of prescriptions for hydromorphone, a highly potent controlledrelease drug, soared 57 per cent over the past five years, accounting for one of every five opioid prescriptions in 2016. The drug is largely behind the move away from weak opioids to potentially highly addictive strong painkillers.

Many doctors began shifting patients to hydromorphone in 2012, after the blockbuster drug OxyContin - a brand-name version of oxycodone made by Purdue Pharma - was no longer available in Canada. At one time, the country's top-selling long-acting opioid, OxyContin also became a lightning rod in the early 2000s, as reports of addiction and overdoses exploded. Purdue pulled the drug from the market; alternative painkillers, notably hydromorphone, filled the void.

"I think [hydromorphone] is the sleeper opioid drug, if you will, that we neglect," Dr. Fischer said. "It has almost the same profile as oxycodone, but we haven't really been paying a lot of attention to it. ... The risks for dependency, misuse or overdose are very, very high. It can kill a lot of people."

Hydromorphone is five times stronger than morphine, and morphine, in turn, is five to 10 times stronger than codeine.

As part of the trend away from weak drugs, the number of prescriptions for codeine declined 10 per cent over the past five years. Still, it remains the most widely prescribed opioid in Canada. Among the less-potent opioids, tramadol, which is similar in potency to codeine, bucked the trend.

CIHI used numbers from health-data company Quintiles IMS to calculate that opioid prescriptions increased to 21.5 million in 2016, up 7 per cent over the five years. (The Globe reported in March that prescriptions for opioids totalled 19 million in 2016, based on data from Quintiles IMS that did not include tramadol and some other codeine products. Tramadol accounted for 70 per cent of the discrepancy.)

Associated Graphic

A new report by the Canadian Institute for Health Information shows that doctors are prescribing higher-potency painkillers at an increasing rate, despite heightened awareness of the risks of addiction and overdoses associated with strong opioids.


Giving gym class an educational treatment
A new program teaches youth gym is as valuable as math or English, taking a fun but scientific approach to physical education
Monday, November 20, 2017 – Print Edition, Page L3

BURNABY, B.C. -- Shouts and laughter fill a large gym in the Vancouver suburbs as some 50 kids in Grades 5 to 7 are put through their paces, from swings of a baseball bat to wobbling while standing on one leg on foam squares. Before and after the swirls of activity, there are talks about the value of sleep and a discussion of passion and purpose in one's life.

"Stay awesome!" offers 11-year-old Justice Smith, as instructor Akriti Sharma tallies the kids' ideas of purpose on an easel board.

Welcome to KidsMove, a new program based in Burnaby, B.C., that seeks to teach "physical literacy" to children ages nine through 12. The core idea behind KidsMove is that gym class is as valuable in life as math or English. It takes a fun yet scientific approach to physical education that treats learning how a body moves and works with the same seriousness as schools treat algebra or reading fiction. A driving motivation for the program is the challenging backdrop of health issues affecting Canadian children, everything from inactivity to sugar and obesity. KidsMove is at the starting line right now, but its founders and backers believe it could become a template of physical literacy among kids across North America.

The roots of the program and its methods start with Steve Nash, the retired Canadian basketball legend, and his work with B.C. physiotherapist Rick Celebrini. With the help of Celebrini, Nash, as a young professional player, overcame a wonky back, a condition called spondylolisthesis that causes vertebral slippage.

On the court, Nash was one of the best passers and shooters in National Basketball Association history - but it was made possible off-court by careful, grinding physical drills to make sure his back and body held up to the physical pounding of professional basketball.

Early in his career, Nash connected with Celebrini and the two came to work closely together. The key period was when Nash had turned 30. It was 2004, and he was about to join the Phoenix Suns, where his career would really take off. Nash and Celebrini spent the summer working at the University of British Columbia, on the court, in the weight gym, on forested trails and in the ocean.

They devised a series of exercises, focused around core strength, that fortified Nash and his back.

A decade later, in 2014, Celebrini started on a plan to bring his elitelevel work with Nash to children, the genesis of KidsMove.

Celebrini brought in local colleagues who worked with the National Hockey League's Vancouver Canucks and Major League Soccer's Vancouver Whitecaps, as well as Olympic athletes, with specialties in physiology, psychology and strength and conditioning. For one winter, the group developed their program with an astom hockey team that Celebrini's sons played on. Nash heard of what Celebrini was up to and got his own foundation - whose main focus is healthy kids - involved.

"Steve embodies the things we're trying to teach," said Celebrini, who also works with the Canucks and Whitecaps. "He's a super-active kid, really, at 43. That's the way he'll always live his life."

The Fortius Sport and Health centre in Burnaby has become the home for the small but growing KidsMove program. Fortius staff help run KidsMove and the facility hosts groups of children in its big gym. The first KidsMove sessions were staged at Fortius in July, 2016, for kids from the region. This fall, KidsMove expanded to host its first school group, a 10-week program for the 50 or so students from Grandview Elementary, a school in East Vancouver where the majority of pupils are Indigenous.

KidsMove is further expanding this month to include six schools from the Burnaby School District.

Fortius, where Celebrini co-founded the medical-services program, is best known as a place for top-level sports. Canada's national women's soccer team has trained there and the Toronto Raptors have staged several training camps at the centre.

But Fortius has also strived to welcome as diverse an audience as possible. With KidsMove, Fortius brings the kids into a facility they might not otherwise see.

It does not come cheap.

Between the facility and all the adults involved to run the program, the cost is $20,000 to cover 10 sessions for 50 children. Add in busing costs of $5,000 and the total is $25,000. It's free for the kids and the schools - but the price tag remains $500 a child; a program based on pro-calibre techniques honed by Steve Nash costs a lot.

The money is coming from Fortius's charitable arm, the Fortius Foundation, although it has yet to raise all the cash needed to take KidsMove through its full 2017-18 plans. The Steve Nash Foundation has been a supporter, as have local corporate and individual donors.

John Tognetti, chairman of Vancouver investment firm Haywood Securities, helped underwrite the Grandview kids. Tognetti attended Grandview as a boy.

KidsMove sessions run two hours and there are at least a half-dozen adults involved. Children in Grades 5 through 7 are considered an ideal age to learn the ideas the program seeks to impart - the kids are old enough to take in specifics of various techniques and appreciate and absorb mottoes such as "set goals," "work hard" and "have fun," which are posted on signs around the gym.

On a recent Thursday morning, Fortius program leader Akriti Sharma began with a refresher on the previous week's lesson about the value of sleep. Then there was a minute of silence, a kind of beginners' meditation for children. There was barely a peep.

The kids were thereafter set loose, guided through activities in four groups. Across the gym, all the kids participated with at least some amount of gusto. There were no losers and nobody was picked last.

Girls and boys flung and caught footballs. The kids teetered in balance drills. In an agility drill, they hustled, moving forward and backward and sideways as best they could between coloured pylons as a teacher shouted out: "Purple! Red! Blue! Red! Yellow!" On another side of the gym, a mesh baseball backstop was set up. Children took their turns at the T-ball stand and at fielding. One girl, at bat, eyed up the ball and drove a sharp line drive through all the defenders. She celebrated with a smile and a bat flip, though not quite as declarative as Jose Bautista's.

Afterward, Justice Smith was bouncing. "Fortius is fun," she declared. Back at Grandview Elementary, her favourite class is gym - but it's the broader ideas here that have caught her attention.

"We talk about stuff other than sports," Justice said. Before KidsMove, she didn't know about the science of sleep. "If you don't sleep," she said, when asked what she has learned, "it's going to be harder for your brain in class."

This is exactly what Nash wants to see: Valuable information clicking with kids.

"The 'why' is where everything changes," Nash said.

While KidsMove remains small for now, Nash said his foundation and the program developers are looking for ways to move it beyond British Columbia.

"There are so many young people that can benefit from these principles," he said.

Another of the goals of KidsMove is that the teachers who help run the sessions bring back the elements to gym classes at their schools.

Grandview Elementary teacher Aaron Singh is applying for a grant to buy equipment such as agility ladders and hurdles used in the program - and on many pro teams.

Singh has seen what he calls a "super-fun, enjoyable program" resonate with his students.

"It's dynamic," Singh said of KidsMove. "This pushes the kids. If something's hard, they're learning it's about doing your best."

As the kids filed out, Fortius's Sharma laughed and exhaled. "That was exhausting," she said.

She spoke about how concepts such as the athletic stance - the poised crouch that is central to physical activity - has connected with the young participants. At other KidsMove sessions, successful athletes have come to talk with the children, such as gold-medal freestyle skier Dara Howell. Another time, the kids were grossed-out but interested to hear from a Fortius nutrition expert about the various colours of pee and how different shades can indicate good health or a problem.

The backdrop of KidsMove, and a driving force behind the investment, is all the big issues around the worsening fitness levels of children.

"There's a huge public-health crisis," Sharma said. "Our purpose is to get kids moving."

Associated Graphic

Grandview Elementary School students participate in the KidsMove program at the Fortius Sport & Health facility in Burnaby, B.C., on Nov. 2.


While KidsMove remains small, Steve Nash said his foundation and the program developers are looking for ways to move it beyond B.C. 'There are so many young people that can benefit from these principles,' Nash says.

Consuming, and dissecting, art in the #MeToo era
Saturday, November 18, 2017 – Print Edition, Page R1

Last week, a few hours after The New York Times reported that comedian Louis C.K. was guilty of sexual misconduct, the actress Lucy DeCoutere uttered an exasperated sigh on Twitter. "I feel like I should consume the work of my favourite male actors, comedians musicians, etc., as quickly as possible in case yet another dude whom I used to respect is found to be an abusive asshat no longer worthy of support."

That night, Trevor Noah joked on The Daily Show that "we're going to need a new Oscar category - Best Actor Whose Movies We Can't Watch Any More."

Sure enough, it has become a little tougher for fans to watch Louis C.K.'s work now, even for those who haven't suddenly lost the taste to do so: In the wake of the revelations, HBO in the United States and Bell Media in Canada pulled his standup programming from their ondemand services and the cable network FX cut ties with him and his production company.

The Nov. 17 release of I Love You, Daddy, a comedy he had written, directed, stars in and self-financed, which its distributor was positioning for an awards-season run after its world premiere at the Toronto International Film Festival, was also scrapped.

That move came days after Sony Pictures announced it would erase Kevin Spacey, another newly disgraced actor, from his most recent film, All the Money in the World, and reshoot his scenes with Christopher Plummer in hopes of still hitting its intended Dec. 22 release. Meanwhile, Hamilton-based CHCH-TV pulled old episodes of House of Cards from its schedule this week, telling viewers that, because of the allegations about Spacey, "the show itself has now become controversial." Writers on the Netflix series are feverishly trying to work up a new storyline that will allow them to produce a new, final season for the streaming service without Spacey.

The moves, with their whiff of expunging inconvenient history, may seem reminiscent of Soviet regimes airbrushing people suddenly deemed persona non grata out of official photographs. (It also conjures the possibility of another Soviet-era relic, the creation of samizdat marketplaces, where fans might clandestinely trade material of disgraced artists.)

If the approach seems reminiscent of communism's culture-snuffing machinery, the companies now cutting artists loose are driven by pure capitalist calculations, ones which determined that the potential upside to continuing business with the tarnished stars was not worth the potential downside.

But for many fans, the decision is more complicated: How to forge a new relationship with the work of an artist - and maybe the artist himself - who has suddenly become problematic?

For critics and curators, this is not necessarily a new issue.

"Many of us have been watching (and reading and listening) from this kind of complicated perspective for a long time," noted Cameron Bailey, TIFF's artistic director, in an e-mail this week replying to a request for an interview.

Bailey was not suggesting he knew about C.K.'s misconduct. (Indeed, he said, he was unaware of the swirling rumours when he programmed I Love You, Daddy.) Rather, he explained the next day over the phone, "if you've watched movies critically in any way, then this has been a part of how you watch a movie.

"If you're a feminist, if you're black, if you're gay, you probably grew up watching work critically to begin with, so you knew some of these artists didn't like people like you. And that's just a fact that you had to live with," Bailey said. In university, he recalled, his course work included reading philosophers who were known to be racist or anti-Semitic. "And you have to kind of keep that in mind, as you continue to enrich your mind. It doesn't mean that you block those things out, but you take that into account.

It's hard to do. It makes your life more complicated."

Still, he chuckled, life and art is supposed to be complicated. "It just happens that there's a bit of a barrage of personal histories that are awful, coming out right now, and it's making the job a bit more urgent in terms of how you bring that context to watching films." (He hastened to add that he understands people who choose to not engage with the work of artists they find personally reprehensible.)

Some things may be too complicated, though: TIFF recently removed a podcast of an interview with Louis C.K. recorded during the festival, explaining to The Globe it had done so, "since its content, told within the context of his film I Love You, Daddy, is diminished by the accusations and admission from Louis C.K. of his sexual harassment."

Other art forms have faced similar questions, and often shrugged off the moral implications: Michael Jackson's career endured some bumps from his brushes with the law and the tabloids over his penchant for sleeping (in the same bed) with young boys, but fans continued to flock to his shows and buy his albums. Before him, many rock musicians in the 1970s used and abused the sometimes underage girls who found their way onto tour buses.

The art world has been grappling with some of these questions for decades. Pablo Picasso and Jackson Pollock were adored by curators and collectors despite their abusive treatment of women in their lives.

Since their deaths, their personal behaviour and art has come under new scrutiny.

In the late 19th century, Paul Gauguin famously abandoned his wife and five children to move to the South Pacific and shack up with three native girls between the ages of 13 and 14. He infected them, and likely others, with syphilis before dying of the disease. He also made his own (white, male, French-born) fantasies the stuff of his art. Over the past two decades, critics have vigorously reappraised his life and work, even while some have cautioned against imposing contemporary standards on historical behaviour.

"With Gauguin, the one fault I have is that he never saw the women as equal, and human beings, and from that point of view I would have a great problem with the art," said Bogomila Welsh-Ovcharov, an art historian, this week. "But does that mean I will not look at his art and understand it within the connections, like Picasso or Munch, or what was great art or what was produced at the time? Absolutely not."

"Gauguin is a perfect example of the role of the male artist in the late 19th century, and the complexities of living as a man and as an artist, and how he related to women," she added. "You have to place yourself perhaps in two different modes. If you're going to be a judge, you're going to be a sociologist, you're going to be a feminist - go right ahead. But if you look at it, you don't go to a museum to make judgment. You go to a museum for your soul to be aesthetically moved, to see creativity, to see beauty."

Bailey, the TIFF artistic director, argues that, at least in the realm of film, those judgments can both deepen and darken our appreciation of the work. He noted that the singer Bjork recently announced that a "Danish director," presumed to be Lars von Trier (with whom she made Dancer in the Dark), had mistreated her.

"I think Lars von Trier is a remarkable, unique voice in cinema, but there are patterns in his films, and one of his patterns is making his female characters suffer," Bailey acknowledged. "You can write about that in a very scholarly way as a kind of trope that recurs in his films, or it can be a sign of something darker that he's expressing. So when that becomes amplified by [Bjork's comments] ... yeah, that does make you look at those films differently. And so, if it came down now to decisions about showing those films, I think the context is absolutely essential."

Similarly, Bailey said that revelations of Alfred Hitchcock's brutal treatment of some of his leading ladies has prompted a re-evaluation.

"It doesn't mean we stop watching those films. It means we watch them with new eyes, in a way."

Perhaps, he suggested, the re-evalution will also spur a renewed look at the work of female contemporaries: "Let's look at Dorothy Arzner's films as well, let's look at Ida Lupino's films, as we're looking at the films that were made by men in those era," he said. "I think as we recontextualize and reframe these movies, as we learn more about the men who made them, we may also find room to look more closely at, and elevate, films by women."

Associated Graphic

The release of Louis C.K.'s I Love You, Daddy was scrapped after The New York Times reported sexual-misconduct allegations against the comedian.

Can-Am champion raced on a shoestring
For much of his career he was self-financed, but a sponsorship finally allowed him to perfect his car and led to his greatest victory
Special to The Globe and Mail
Saturday, November 18, 2017 – Print Edition, Page S12

Horst Kroll, who died on Oct. 26 at the age of 81, won the CanAm motor-racing championship in 1986 when he was 50 years old, an age when most auto racers have retired. The only other Canadian to win a Can-Am championship was Jacques-Joseph Villeneuve (Gilles Villeneuve's brother), when he was 29.

In Can-Am racing, which ran from 1966 to 1987, the cars were behemoths with much larger engines than Formula 1 vehicles.

Mr. Kroll's car had a 5-litre engine that generated more than 550 horsepower. After his most celebrated victory in more than 20 years of racing, he quit and went back to running his car repair shop in West Hill, in Scarborough, Ont.

Horst Kroll's life was shaped by the Second World War and the Cold War that followed. He was born on May 16, 1936, in Kreuzwalde in Silesia, which was then part of Germany. The family moved west to Saxony and lived there during the war.

A woman gave the family refuge in a house near Dresden. They were there when the British and U.S. bombing force dropped 3,900 tonnes of high explosives and incendiary bombs on the city from Feb. 13 to 15, in 1945, causing a firestorm. It was a controversial raid on a target of little strategic importance. Even British Prime Minister Winston Churchill eventually questioned it.

Horst was eight years old when the attack occurred. He later remembered hiding in the basement of the house, which was about 50 kilometres from Dresden, and feeling the ground shake from the explosions. "When I went outside it was night, but the flames from Dresden lit up the sky like it was the sun," he told friends many years later.

When the war ended, Horst, his two sisters and his mother, Elisabeth, became refugees, fleeing westward, away from the advancing Soviet Red Army. They eventually settled in East Germany.

His father, Emile Kroll, was in the German Army and died of tuberculosis several years after returning from the war. Horst finished eight years of school and then took a three-year apprenticeship as an auto mechanic. He worked in a local garage and then in, 1955 or 56, decided to leave East Germany. The police stopped people from leaving, but it was before the Berlin Wall, which was built in 1961. He made up an excuse to get out, saying he was going to an auto show in West Germany.

"I left everything behind except what I could carry. I left friends, relatives and I had no money," Mr. Kroll told an interviewer in 2002.

In West Germany, he landed an apprenticeship at a Porsche factory in Stuttgart. He worked building the Porsche 356, the original Porsche sports car, which was a derivative of the Volkswagen Beetle. Mr. Kroll would say he knew the car so well he could repair one blindfolded. He ended up servicing VIP and executive cars.

After two years in West Germany, he sneaked back into East Germany to see his family. "The Vopos [East German Police] caught me. They kicked me out. I only had five hours visiting my mother."

He might have been forbidden to leave, but he lied to the police saying he had a fiancée back in West Germany, according to his daughter, Brigit Kroll.

Volkswagen, which sold Porsches, sent Mr. Kroll to Canada to work in Toronto, specializing in servicing the Porsche 356. He made an effort to learn English, though he always spoke with a soft German accent.

His friends were other young Germans who were interested in cars and racing.

Mr. Kroll joined a German racing team and started racing Porsche 356s at a track at Saint-Eugène, near Montreal. By 1963, he was ice racing, then competing at Harewood Acres, a track just west of Toronto. He started out driving a Porsche 356; then he moved to a Formula Vee, which looked like a small Formula 1 car but was not as powerful.

The Vee stood for Volkswagen, and the Formula Vee ran on a Volkswagen engine. Mr. Kroll built his own Formula Vee and was also racing a Porsche Speedster. He was winning race after race.

"Sometimes I would come home with six trophies in a weekend from Harewood," Mr. Kroll said.

At this stage, he was still working at Volkswagen Canada and he could experiment with souping up the VW engine for his weekend race car.

"I would work late at night at Volkswagen of Canada and build an engine. I would test it, and if it wasn't right, I would tear into it and do it again, until I got it right," Mr. Kroll said. Not only did he race the Formula Vees, but he went on to build 18 of them and sold them to other drivers after he left Volkswagen and opened his own shop.

Peter Felder, a racing manager and admirer, said it was Mr. Kroll's intimate understanding of the workings of the engine that made him such a great race driver.

"He had a phenomenal mechanical mind. He knew the engine. He also had focus and concentration when he was driving," Mr. Felder said.

During the mid-1960s, Mr. Kroll raced a Porsche 356 Carrera, the fastest version of the early Porsches; all Porsche 356s are valuable today, but a 2-litre Porsche 356 Carrera sold this year for $517,000 (U.S.).

In 1968, Mr. Kroll won the Canadian Driving Championship. For the next two decades, he raced all over North America, from Mosport near Toronto to Saint-Jovite at Mont Tremblant, and in California, Texas and Wisconsin. He raced on a shoestring, financing his own cars, as he found it difficult to find sponsors.

"At races, my father would go through what the other race teams threw away," said his daughter, Birgit, who accompanied her father to many races. "Sometimes, other drivers or mechanics would come by and tell him there was a good camshaft in the garbage bin."

Mr. Kroll raced on a tiny budget until he got a sponsorship from Chipwich in the 1980s, which allowed him to perfect his Can-Am car. In 1984, he came third overall, then second the next year, before winning the championship in 1986.

Mr. Felder says Mr. Kroll could have done better if he had had more money.

"The trouble is he couldn't afford to crash. It was his money. If it came down to it, he would have to back off in the final corner," Mr. Felder said.

When he was off the track, Mr. Kroll drove in much the same way he did when he was racing. He went fast and cut the edges off corners. He received a lot of tickets, but more than once the officers who stopped him let him off because they were race fans.

Once he and his girlfriend, Connie Beadle, were driving two Porsches - a 356 and a 911 - back from California when they passed a police speed trap, on the other side of the road in Oklahoma.

"I saw he spotted Connie and was wheeling around to come after us," Mr. Kroll told a reporter. "I told her if she ever saw me flashing my lights to take the next exit."

She did, and they made it to a motel.

"We checked out in the middle of the night and kept going on back roads."

At one point the 25-year-old 356 had some engine trouble, but Mr. Kroll repaired it in a hurry.

Mr. Kroll was devastated some time later when his companion, Ms. Beadle, died in an automobile accident.

For many years, he ran a car repair service on Kingston Road in Scarborough. He was a great mechanic, but not a great businessman.

"Horst's lot was jammed with cars because he was a terrible salesman. If someone came in and tried to haggle over the price, he refused to deal with them," said his friend, Dan Proudfoot, an auto journalist, who recently wrote a series of articles on the restoration of two of Mr. Kroll's Porsche 911s that he never managed to sell.

Mr. Kroll loved cats. He took in strays, and they lived all over his garage, some of them sleeping in one of his old Can-Am race cars.

Mr. Kroll leaves his daughter, Birgit; his wife, Hildegard, from whom he had been separated for many years; and his sisters, Renate and Krista.

To submit an I Remember: Send us a memory of someone we have recently profiled on the Obituaries page. Please include I Remember in the subject field.

Associated Graphic

Racecar driver Horst Kroll is seen in a Kelly Porsche. In 1968, Mr. Kroll won the Canadian Driving Championship. For the next two decades, he raced all over North America, in places such as Toronto, California, Texas and Wisconsin.

Horst Kroll

Experts lukewarm on foreign-buyer ban
New Zealand's crackdown on non-resident housing purchases has raised eyebrows, but few see it as workable in B.C.
Special to The Globe and Mail
Saturday, October 28, 2017 – Print Edition, Page S5

New Zealand's new coalition government made a surprising announcement this week - that it would ban non-residents from buying existing properties.

Meanwhile, in Vancouver, we got another round of numbers that attest to the yawning gap between incomes and housing costs. A new batch of 2016 census data showed that the median-housing-value-tomedian-total-household-income ratio in Metro Vancouver is now at 11, the highest in the country.

That ratio means that the typical Vancouver resident needs 11 times his or her income to purchase a typical house. The national average is a far healthier 4.9. The Victoria region is getting the spillover of the Vancouver market, with a ratio of 8.4, second highest in the country.

Metro Toronto's ratio is 8.3 and its spillover market, Hamilton, is at 5.6. (Analyst Andy Yan, adjunct urban studies professor at Simon Fraser University, supplied the ratios.)

"Vancouver is quite clearly the outlier," says Josh Gordon, assistant professor at Simon Fraser's school of public policy, who has written on Vancouver's affordability crisis.

He was not surprised by the new data. Vancouver area residents are desensitized to such numbers by now. We're well aware that our static incomes do not match up with stratospheric home prices. As with several other gateway cities, the only explanation for our level of unaffordability is that money earned elsewhere is driving housing values. In Vancouver's case, the wealth is largely earned in China.

And considering that an estimated 58,000 homes are left empty across the region, we know that speculative buying is at play, and is also fuelling prices. There are those who continue to argue that a shortage of supply is the root of the problem, but the numbers don't back that argument, says Prof. Gordon.

"There is no evidence to support the idea that the crisis has to do with a slowdown in building," he says. "The crisis is very clearly a product of a surge in demand."

Canadian housing experts may not embrace a ban on non-resident property buying, but they mostly agree that the gesture speaks loudly to residents experiencing frenetic growth. In Canada, all levels of government, particularly in cities such as Vancouver and Toronto, should take heed. Housing is a top priority for the electorate, and there are signs of a growing impatience in B.C. that unaffordability has not been meaningfully addressed. So far, the NDP-led government has said that it will reveal a strategy with the budget in February.

"I think there are better ways to address the impact of foreign capital than a full ban," Prof. Gordon says. "But nevertheless, as a policy statement that says homes are going to be used for housing and not investment, certainly that will resonate in the contemporary discourse.

"There is clearly frustration and anxiety with the delay in action and a concern that the NDP won't follow through," he adds. "And making people wait until February to see any substantive action is not a good course for this government to take, in my view. They should be sending clearer signals through a range of policy stances that they are going to address speculation and demand side pressures."

Adam Olsen, housing critic for the Green Party and MLA for SAnich, says housing is a constant priority for the Greens during Question Period. But he says government should proceed with caution. A ban would be extreme.

"We are very much encouraging our current government to take a measured and pro-active approach - but a measured approach - to ensure that that we can start to let some air out of the bubble, for lack of a better term.

"There are a number of ways we could do it right. We could do it through a foreign-buyer tax, or go as aggressive as what New Zealand did, with a ban, and we could connect it to income tax.

"What's most important for me is that it's not necessarily a citizenship issue, but whether or not there are contributions being made to community - to income tax - to ensure that this isn't just parking capital in our country, but there are contributions being made.

"I personally think a foreign-buying ban is going very, very far."

The New Zealand government was responding to an affordability crisis like our own, with the city of Auckland seeing its average house price hit more than $1-million last year.

On social media at least, there is a growing mood of impatience for government to take action, of some kind. If Twitter is a gauge, there is a disappointment that the new government hasn't yet offered up a game plan on the affordability crisis.

As Prof. Gordon puts it: "The NDP campaigned on the promise of affordability and they shouldn't forget that. That was clearly part of the campaign in New Zealand, and that party has clearly and quickly taken action on that."

Mr. Olsen says he doesn't look at Twitter, but he is aware of the frustration.

"I am hearing that and in many cases, I support it. We need to get from solid sound bites to solid plans and solid action pretty quickly."

He also knows that the more time people wait for a plan, the higher expectations are going to get.

"It's taken a long time for government to take action on housing affordability issues, and in that time the issues have been compounding. On the other side of it, we have a new government that has to be able to get in there and tear the drywall off the wall and see what kind of mould and rot are there.

"We've been pushing them, asking them to be accountable to the commitments they've made, and we'll continue to do that," he adds.

"People are frustrated that it hasn't moved quickly enough, and [government] could have jumped right out and done something as was done in New Zealand, that is for sure. I think they are setting themselves up for some very, very big expectations.

"Could they have taken more courageous action and tinkered with some other things? Yes ... and the longer you say, 'We are going to do a plan,' the more spectacular the expectations will be of that plan."

Restricting foreign property buying is nothing new. Countries around the world have long had similar policies. Countries such as China, Singapore, Australia, Mexico and Denmark have varying degrees of restrictions on foreign real estate buying.

Leilani Farha, the United Nations Special Rapporteur on Adequate Housing, based in Ottawa, is planning to visit New Zealand to review the housing situation there. Ms.

Farha's job is to go around the world and study living conditions, on the basis that housing is a human right. She doesn't think New Zealand's ban on foreign buying is a fit for Canada.

"Initially, you want to applaud the boldness and say, 'Go for it,' but when you start really looking at it, is it going to make a big enough difference? Is it good policy? Do you want to have a protectionist policy of that nature?" As well, there are ways around the ban, she says.

"In Vancouver for example, there are permanent residents, such as students, who are not in fact "foreign," but people whose parents might be wealthy and would buy a property, and the parents may not live in Canada or be resident or Canadian. Where do they fall in?

"It's kind of a divisive policy. And there are always ways around these things. If I knew that [the New Zealand ban] was part of some package, a whole, fulsome approach to dealing with unaffordability issues, I might feel a little differently."

Ralph Fox, owner of a brokerage that specializes in downtown Toronto, agrees that a ban doesn't address the true path of foreign money.

"It's not someone coming in from China who doesn't speak the language walking into a show room or a real estate office and starting to write cheques," Mr. Fox says. "The real way our real estate markets are being affected by foreign money out of China is it's coming to family members and trusted individuals living in Canada who are Canadian citizens with social insurance numbers and bank accounts, who are able to get mortgages at 20-percent down.

"There is a much more indirect way it's influencing our market, and there's no real data because it's very hard to track."

Associated Graphic

Vancouver's real estate market has the greatest gap between housing prices and local household income in Canada, but analysts say a full ban on non-residents buying properties, as New Zealand has imposed, would be extreme and probably not effective.


'Invisible mending' at the DNA level
A micro-editing procedure done on a man with Hunter syndrome, if successful, could give a major boost to gene therapy
Associated Press
Friday, November 17, 2017 – Print Edition, Page L5

OAKLAND, CALIF. -- Scientists for the first time have tried editing a gene inside the body in a bold attempt to permanently change a person's DNA to try to cure a disease.

The experiment was done Monday in California on 44-year-old Brian Madeux. Through an intravenous, he received billions of copies of a corrective gene and a genetic tool to cut his DNA in a precise spot.

"It's kind of humbling" to be the first to test this, said Madeux, who has a metabolic disease called Hunter syndrome. "I'm willing to take that risk. Hopefully it will help me and other people."

Signs of whether it's working may come in a month; tests will show for sure in three months.

If it's successful, it could give a major boost to the fledgling field of gene therapy. Scientists have edited people's genes before, altering cells in the lab that are then returned to patients. There also are gene therapies that don't involve editing DNA.

But these methods can only be used for a few types of diseases.

Some give results that may not last.

Some others supply a new gene like a spare part, but can't control where it inserts in the DNA, possibly causing a new problem such as cancer.

This time, the gene tinkering is happening in a precise way inside the body. It's like sending a mini surgeon along to place the new gene in exactly the right location.

"We cut your DNA, open it up, insert a gene, stitch it back up. Invisible mending," said Dr. Sandy Macrae, president of Sangamo Therapeutics, the California company testing this for two metabolic diseases and hemophilia. "It becomes part of your DNA and is there for the rest of your life."

That also means there's no going back, no way to erase any mistakes the editing might cause.

"You're really toying with Mother Nature" and the risks can't be fully known, but the studies should move forward because these are incurable diseases, said one independent expert, Dr. Eric Topol of the Scripps Translational Science Institute in San Diego.

Protections are in place to help ensure safety, and animal tests were very encouraging, said Dr. Howard Kaufman, a Boston scientist on the National Institutes of Health panel that approved the studies.

He said gene editing's promise is too great to ignore. "So far there's been no evidence that this is going to be dangerous," he said. "Now is not the time to get scared."

Fewer than 10,000 people worldwide have these metabolic diseases, partly because many die very young. Those with Madeux's condition, Hunter syndrome, lack a gene that makes an enzyme that breaks down certain carbohydrates. These build up in cells and cause havoc throughout the body.

Patients may have frequent colds and ear infections, distorted facial features, hearing loss, heart problems, breathing trouble, skin and eye problems, bone and joint flaws, bowel issues and brain and thinking problems.

"Many are in wheelchairs ... dependent on their parents until they die," said Dr. Chester Whitley, a University of Minnesota genetics expert who plans to enroll patients in the studies.

Weekly IV doses of the missing enzyme can ease some symptoms, but cost $100,000 to $400,000 a year and don't prevent brain damage.

Madeux, who now lives near Phoenix, Ariz., is engaged to a nurse, Marcie Humphrey, whom he met 15 years ago in a study that tested this enzyme therapy at UCSF Benioff Children's Hospital Oakland, where the gene-editing experiment took place. He has had 26 operations for hernias, bunions, bones pinching his spinal column, and ear, eye and gall bladder problems.

"It seems like I had a surgery every other year of my life" and many procedures in between, he said. Last year, he nearly died from a bronchitis and pneumonia attack.

The disease had warped his airway, and "I was drowning in my secretions, I couldn't cough it out."

Madeux has a chef's degree and was part owner of two restaurants in Utah, cooking for U.S. ski teams and celebrities, but now can't work in a kitchen or ride horses as he used to.

Gene editing won't fix damage he's already suffered, but he hopes it will stop the need for weekly enzyme treatments.

Initial studies will involve up to 30 adults to test safety, but the ultimate goal is to treat children very young, before much damage occurs.

A gene-editing tool called CRISPR has received a lot of recent attention, but this study used a different one called zinc finger nucleases.

They're like molecular scissors that seek and cut a specific piece of DNA.

The therapy has three parts: The new gene and two zinc finger proteins. DNA instructions for each part are placed in a virus that's been altered to not cause infection but to ferry them into cells. Billions of copies of these are given through a vein.

They travel to the liver, where cells use the instructions to make the zinc fingers and prepare the corrective gene. The fingers cut the DNA, allowing the new gene to slip in. The new gene then directs the cell to make the enzyme the patient lacked.

Only 1 per cent of liver cells would have to be corrected to successfully treat the disease, said Madeux's physician and study leader, Dr. Paul Harmatz at the Oakland hospital.

"How bulletproof is the technology? We're just learning," but safety tests have been very good, said Dr.

Carl June, a University of Pennsylvania scientist who has done other gene therapy work but was not involved in this study.

Safety issues plagued some earlier gene therapies. One worry is that the virus might provoke an immune system attack. In 1999, 18-year-old Jesse Gelsinger died in a gene therapy study from that problem, but the new studies use a different virus that's proved much safer in other experiments.

Another worry is that inserting a new gene might have unforeseen effects on other genes. That happened years ago, when researchers used gene therapy to cure some cases of the immune system disorder called "bubble boy" disease.

Several patients later developed leukemia because the new gene inserted into a place in the native DNA where it unintentionally activated a cancer gene.

"When you stick a chunk of DNA in randomly, sometimes it works well, sometimes it does nothing and sometimes it causes harm," said Hank Greely, a Stanford University bioethicist. "The advantage with gene editing is you can put the gene in where you want it."

Finally, some fear that the virus could get into other places such as the heart, or eggs and sperm where it could affect future generations.

Doctors say built-in genetic safeguards prevent the therapy from working anywhere but the liver, like a seed that only germinates in certain conditions.

This experiment is not connected to other, more controversial work being debated to try to edit genes in human embryos to prevent diseases before birth - changes that would be passed down from generation to generation.

Madeux's treatment was to have happened a week earlier, but a small glitch prevented it.

He and his fiancée returned to Arizona, but nearly didn't make it back to Oakland in time for the second attempt because their Sunday flight was cancelled and no others were available until Monday, after the treatment was to take place.

Scrambling, they finally got a flight to Monterey, Calif., and a car service took them the 170 kilometres north to Oakland.

On Monday he had the three-hour infusion, surrounded by half a dozen doctors, nurses and others wearing head-to-toe protective garb to lower the risk of giving him any germs. His doctor, Harmatz, spent the night at the hospital to help ensure his patient stayed well.

"I'm nervous and excited," Madeux said as he prepared to leave the hospital. "I've been waiting for this my whole life, something that can potentially cure me."

Associated Graphic

This week, Brian Madeux made medical history when surgeons for the first time attempted to edit a gene to try to cure his Hunter syndrome, a metabolic disease. Billions of copies of a corrective gene were fed into his body through IV, and his DNA was cut in a precise spot. It will take months to determine how successful the procedure was. 'I'm willing to take that risk. Hopefully it will help me and other people,' said Madeux, seen above getting his IV set up by nurse Siobhan Field at the UCSF Benioff Children's Hospital Oakland in Oakland, Calif., and at left with his girlfriend Marcie Humphrey.


Themed ETFs - solid strategy or gimmick?
Niche or thematic products may have a place in your portfolio, but watch the timing, both on the purchase and the sale
Special to The Globe and Mail
Tuesday, November 14, 2017 – Print Edition, Page B10

While exchange-traded funds have traditionally been utilized as a conservative way to invest in securities that belong to a widely diversified stock exchange, more investors are now using ETFs to zero in on a particular segment of the market that catches their fancy.

"There is an ETF for just about any trend at this point - online retail, gender diversity, video gaming, health and wellness, robotics. The list just goes on and on," says Prerna Chandak, assistant vice-president of exchange-traded funds at Mackenzie Financial Corp. in Toronto.

But do these funds represent smart strategic plays in an investor's portfolio? Or is the whole concept of a thematic ETF more of a gimmicky nature?

Graeme Egan, head of CastleBay Wealth Management Inc., a portfolio manager and fee-only financial planning company in Vancouver, has mixed feelings about the merits of thematic ETFs in an investment portfolio.

Mr. Egan believes there can be a sort of gimmicky rationale behind the decision of some investors to hold thematic ETFs, akin to jumping on a trending bandwagon. "There's probably some flavour of the month stuff that is so trendy that it will be out of fashion next year. I'm concerned about that," he says.

However, Mr. Egan also believes that, if carefully chosen and researched, there may be a limited place for thematic ETFs in some investors' portfolios. "I wouldn't necessarily call them strategic. I'd call them more tactical. But you've got to be nimble and know what you're doing," he advises.

Raj Lala, president and chief executive officer of Evolve Funds Inc. in Toronto, a 2017 startup ETF firm that offers themed ETFs, says thematic funds are strong investments to add to a portfolio because they reflect long-term trends taking place.

"I would absolutely disagree that themed ETFs are gimmicky in any way, because gimmick to me is more like a fad without a long-term investment thesis. There's a very solid investment thesis behind the themed ETFs in our name," Mr. Lala says.

Evolve recently launched three funds that trade on the TSX - the Evolve North American Gender Diversity Index ETF consisting of about 150 firms, the Evolve Cyber Security Index ETF, consisting of about 30 companies, and the Evolve Automobile Innovation Index ETF , also consisting of about 30 firms.

Mr. Lala explains why each of those ETFs were viewed as valuable investment themes. Gender diversity, he says, has been in the spotlight for many years. But it got more attention a couple of years ago when incoming Prime Minister Justin Trudeau famously responded, when asked why he had a fully gender-diversified cabinet, "because it's 2015."

"I think that really sparked a lot of the corporate CEOs north of the border to at least focus a little bit more on increasing gender diversity within their firms," says Mr. Lala, who explains that the gender practices of thousands of blue-chip North American corporations were closely scrutinized to determine the 150 companies chosen for Evolve's fund.

Evolve's Cyber Security Index ETF includes well-known industry giants such as Symantec Corp., FireEye Inc. and Check Point Software Technologies Ltd., among others.

"When you get a cyber breach of client data or information, stocks tend to fall dramatically, and consumers start to lose confidence, and it's tough to recover. So one of the drivers for a lot of corporate CEOs is to make sure that they preserve their stock price, and part of that is making sure they're insulated from cyber theft or cyber crime," says Mr. Lala.

Evolve's CARS ETF fund covers organizations throughout the automotive supply chain that are contributing to technological changes. Many experts predict there will be an unprecedented transformation in the automotive industry over the next 10 years.

"For example, we've got organizations that create semi-conductors that help with connectivity for selfdriving vehicles, camera manufacturers for self-driving, and battery manufacturers for the electric vehicles," Mr. Lala says.

Tim Morton, the senior vice-president and portfolio manager with TD Wealth in Toronto, says investors in themed ETFs need to be careful.

"You've got to have a very strong conviction to want to go down into a specific sector. One of the difficulties [is] you have to get the timing really right. Maybe it's not an asset that you want to hold throughout the entire investment cycle, so your timing, both on your purchase and your sale have to be good," he says.

How much to purchase is another important consideration, taking into account various individual risk and other factors. With an ETF, "you have to look and say, 'Maybe it's not as volatile as an individual stock.

But maybe there's 20 per cent or 30 per cent volatility in it and maybe that volatility rate is two or three times that of the market. Therefore I've got to make sure I'm very careful of my sizing,' "Mr. Morton says.

The potential liquidity of the underlying stocks that make up the themed or micro-focused ETF must also be studied.

"You need to consider, 'Is that asset going to go in and out of vogue?' There might be good liquidity in it today. But you have to be concerned about what the liquidity might look like when you want to get out of it," says Mr. Morton.

Thematic ETFs are a strong component of an overall investor portfolio because they can meet an investor's specific desires and strategies, says Steve Hawkins, president and co-chief executive officer of Horizons ETFs Management (Canada) Inc. in Toronto. That firm recently launched its proprietary Horizons Marijuana Life Sciences Index ETF, which seeks to replicate the performance of the North American Marijuana Index, net of expenses.

This involves a basket of North American publicly listed life-sciences companies with significant marijuana-related business.

"We started working on it last year.

The market had matured enough to a point where we thought it could support the sustained liquidity of an ETF that was needed to bring a niche, or thematic product like that to market," says Mr. Hawkins. For example, medical marijuana has been approved for many years in Canada, and "we've seen marijuana sales on the medical side grow significantly as it becomes more mainstream," he notes.

Companies within Horizon's ETF marijuana fund include Canopy Growth Corp., Aphria Inc., and Aurora Cannabis Inc., among others.

The company currently has two other themed ETFs - the Horizons Cdn Insider Index ETF and the Horizons Canadian Midstream Oil & Gas Index ETF .

The concept of having an insider index as a thematic product is based on the insider trading sentiments of management and directors of corporations. It involves tracking the insider trading reports and the buying and selling of their senior management.

Horizon's ETF inside trading fund includes HudBay Minerals Inc., Canfor Corp., and West Fraser Timber Co. Ltd., among other companies, explains Mr. Hawkins.

Horizon's oil and gas ETF is designed to "allow investors to access the market between when oil comes out of the ground to when it goes into the gas tank of your car.

There are a lot of steps in between for that, with respect to post-refinement, delivery, pipelines - all of those pieces to the energy transition process. So we created an ETF that directly accesses that market," he says.

Components of that fund include Pembina Pipeline Corp., Shawcor Ltd., and Enbridge Inc., among others.

Ms. Chandak warns that certain thematic ETFs might not be giving investors as pure an exposure to an economic sector or industry as they might be expecting, and therefore they need to do their homework before investing.

For example, "if we look at something like robotics, there are a number of robotics ETFs, both in Canada and the U.S., but not a lot of public companies that actually work exclusively within the robotics area. So ETFs covering themes like robotics may also have exposure to companies that aren't specifically in the robotics industry. You might be buying into a more diversified portfolio than you are aware of," she cautions.

Moreover, an investor has to look across their total portfolio exposure to avoid unwittingly going overweight in certain themes, says Ms. Chandak, who notes how, for instance, many Canadian portfolios already have oil and gas exposure.

Associated Graphic

There may be a place for thematic ETFs in your portfolio, if carefully chosen. Some themed funds, for example, include stocks in companies that display gender diversity, or that focus on cyber security firms, midstream oil and gas companies and the marijuana business.


Jill of all trades
Chef Charlotte Langley's canned sustainable seafood business is just one way she is leaving her mark on the food industry
Special to The Globe and Mail
Wednesday, November 22, 2017 – Print Edition, Page L3

Chef Charlotte Langley has a lot on her plate.

She's probably best known for Scout Canning, her nearly four-yearold company focused on canned sustainable seafood that the Prince Edward Island native calls her "PEI alter-ego." Scout has a loyal following eager for her cured trout, smoked oysters, mussels in tomato and oil and Spanish-style albacore tuna conserva.

In the past year, the 33-year-old has seriously added to her résumé.

She launched Bibs & Bubbs, an event series centred on her love of oysters and Champagne, plus worked as the buyer and food stylist for Top Chef Canada. She served as chef and culinary curator at the annual Restaurants Canada trade show and contributed to a forthcoming cookbook by John Bil of Toronto restaurant Honest Weight.

Plus, she took on the role of Canadian chef and brand ambassador for the Marine Stewardship Council, developing fun, easy recipes using widely available sustainable seafood products from grocery stores, to help steer the masses away from farmed fish.

"I feel like a jill of all trades," says Langley, who now lives in Toronto.

"One day, I'll be doing a small private dinner, the next working on a trade floor with 15,000 people. I like the challenge of every day being different."

She makes it seem easy, but Langley's success came after a long run of bad luck. Four years ago, she was out of work and living on employment insurance. She had just gotten out of a miserable experience as a catering chef - a job she never wanted but took for the paycheque.

"I was having a really tough time in Toronto," Langley says. "I couldn't land anywhere that was the right fit for me and I was really frustrated because I had come from such a great place." That would be the Whalesbone Oyster House in Ottawa, where she was executive chef and renowned for her big personality and bold seafood-focused fare.

Her move to Toronto came with much fanfare and high hopes, but three years in, Langley accepted that in the capital she had been "a big fish in a small pond.

"I realized," she says, "if I couldn't find something, I needed to make it myself."

Betting on herself, Langley funded Scout's debut on her credit card. The idea was inspired by "chicken haddie," a classic mix of haddock, hake, cod and pollock once supplied by PEI's Babineau Fisheries. "It makes the best fish cakes," Langley says.

"They stopped making it and I missed it, so I decided to make it myself."

From that kernel of inspiration, Langley quickly branched out into other products. She was soon selling to wholesale clients in the city and hosting events built around her canned goods. And with that, she was back on the scene - working for herself and making her mark in the industry.

"Her events feel like you're at the best dinner party that you've never been invited to," wine importer Nicole Campbell says. Along with sommelier Krysta Oben, Campbell hosts wine events under the name Grape Witches and the duo have collaborated with Langley to pour wine at Bibs & Bubbs events.

"Her food's not trendy, it's not made to show off, it's just exceptional food that we just want to eat," Campbell says. "And Charlotte's talking to everyone and connecting with people in a way that you wouldn't have in a traditional restaurant. She's all about creating an inclusive space."

Langley is remarkable for a number of reasons, one of which is that yes, she's a woman in a profession with a spotty reputation toward them. In recent weeks - and mirroring revelations in the entertainment industry, politics and beyond - numerous reports have shone a light on long-standing rumours about sexism in the industry.

Notably, the New Orleans TimesPicayune ran a wide-ranging exposé on sexual harassment within famed chef John Besh's restaurant group, including allegations against Besh himself. In Ottawa, chef and restaurateur Matthew Carmichael admitted to sexual harassment as some employees approached reporters with their stories. In response, male industry heavyweights such as Tom Colicchio and Daniel Patterson published essays discussing the need for change in restaurant culture.

Langley, though, points to a piece written for Esquire by Amanda Cohen - a Toronto native most famous for her New York restaurant Dirt Candy - as ringing most true to her. In it, Cohen laments the media only pay attention to women in the industry when stories such as this surface, largely ignoring their talent and accomplishments otherwise.

"She hit the nail on the head: Like, it took sexual assault for you to pay attention to female chefs?" Langley says. "I am a chef who just happens to be a woman. Coming into a kitchen as a chef or a cook who happens to be a woman is always challenging. For lots of reasons, not just sexual assault and harassment."

And so, another project she's taking on is a partnership with Vancouver chef Mark Brand for his Greasy Spoon Diner Supper Series, a threeyear-old event that features top chefs serving four-course diner-inspired meals.

Next year, Brand and Langley will collaborate to feature a Greasy Spoon roster comprised entirely of chefs "who happen to be women."

Their foremost hope is to showcase some of the country's best cooks, while also deepening the discussion around equality in the industry.

Langley will serve as chef for one dinner and help Brand recruit chefs for others, including some to be held outside of Vancouver.

Right now, all dinners take place at Brand's butcher shop and diner, Save on Meats. He's not just a chef, but a social entrepreneur and community activist, one long celebrated for providing both meals and employment to countless members of the city's marginalized Downtown Eastside community.

So it's not surprising that proceeds from the series go to charity (Brand's A Better Life Foundation, which focuses on food security in the city) or that he's interested in helping bring better gender balance to professional kitchens.

"We could do 10 years of chefs who just happen to be female, or 10 years of chefs who just happen to be male," Brand says. "But the point is to start the conversation because the industry definitely needs some change."

And though Brand only met Langley a few months ago, he instantly knew she was the right person to help shed a light on those challenges and help promote equality and inclusion.

"Charlotte will call you out when you're wrong but you don't feel like you're being attacked, you feel like you're being nurtured and understood," he says. "She's inspirational and also motivational. Not Tony Robbins motivational, but 'I've been in the trenches' motivational. And she's just an amazing cook, too."

Another unusual aspect of Langley's success is that it has come outside of restaurants. This unique path affords her a level of control she wouldn't have running one permanent location, allowing her to take on projects she's passionate about.

"It's given me the luxury of saying no and making time for myself," she says of her career choices. "There's an opportunity to evolve - my restaurant today wouldn't look the same as I thought it would when I began cooking."

When Langley envisions a bricksand-mortar space now, it's modelled on what she's already doing: A restaurant, but also a café and takeout shop for prepared foods, along with a space for classes and events, and interactive elements such as a DIY canning station. "It's not just one thing, it's multimedia," she says.

And while opening a restaurant is still a dream, it's just one of many. "I just want to stay active and I want to stay present," she says. "I want my industry partners to respect me and say Charlotte Langley's got it together - she's doing some interesting and challenging things, whether in a traditional restaurant environment or not."

Associated Graphic

Chef Charlotte Langley, 33, has substantially added to her résumé through a slew of projects she's been involved with in the past year: She launched the Bibs & Bubbs event series, worked as the buyer and stylist for Top Chef Canada, served as chef and culinary curator at the annual Restaurants Canada trade show and contributed to a forthcoming cookbook by John Bil of Toronto restaurant Honest Weight.


As detractors and skeptics become converts, cryptocurrency enthusiasts say these digital assets could have a big advantage over traditional investments, Brian Milner writes
Thursday, November 16, 2017 – Print Edition, Page E4

Raj Lala

President and CEO of Evolve Funds Group Inc. in Toronto

Raj Lala discovered the value of cryptocurrencies through personal experience. His Venezuelan-born wife was having a tough time getting money to her hard-pressed relatives facing a collapsed economy, massive shortages, runaway inflation, a broken financial system and severe restrictions on currency transactions.

"There was really no way to get money to them," says Mr. Lala, president and chief executive officer of Evolve Funds Group in Toronto.

It was when they turned to bitcoin as a means of transferring the money that "we realized this digital currency actually had a future."

Still, it wasn't the easiest thing to buy, and the process almost certainly would have put off ordinary investors. So Mr. Lala, whose firm has developed some intriguing exchange-traded funds, decided it might be useful to create one designed to track the price of bitcoin. If approved by regulators, it would be a first for Canada. That way, people who have no desire to own the actual currency, but believe both demand and price have further to run, could make a market bet on that view.

No such investment product has been approved south of the border. But that's certain to change now that bitcoin futures are expected to be launched by the end of the year, which will help to reduce wild price swings and to persuade more institutional investors to climb aboard.

Mr. Lala suggests that even gold bugs "may eventually get their heads around cryptocurrency, that it's kind of a safe haven currency."

And a heck of a lot more portable.

David Orrell

Applied mathematician and co-author of The Evolution of Money and The Money Formula

When Canadian mathematician and writer David Orrell began taking a close look at digital currencies a couple of years ago as part of his research for a book, enthusiasts were more excited about their growing use and acceptance as money than in their investment potential.

That's no longer the case. Today, "the buzz is all about the worth of bitcoin as an investment," says Mr. Orrell, co-author of The Money Formula. "So it is in more of a speculator-driven growth phase."

And when speculators jump in and prices skyrocket, bubbles can't be far behind.

"Bitcoin is in a bubble in the sense that it is only supported by group faith in its value," Mr. Orrell says. "But gold is the same. You can say that it has been around for a long time, but that just means group faith has lasted a very long time."

The crypto balloon will eventually be punctured, but don't hold your breath waiting for the collapse, particularly as new money pours in from institutional investors and traditional market players drawn to the exchange-traded funds, futures contracts and other vehicles that are already in the pipeline or on the horizon.

As for Mr. Orrell, "I'm all for keeping a small amount of money in cybercurrencies just because it's fascinating to see how these things are evolving, and it's more fun and you are more likely to get involved if you have a small stake. ... This isn't in quite the same spirit as a regular investment, though."

Kenn Bozak

Bitcoin investor, tutor and consultant

Once Kenn Bosak started bringing home a regular paycheque, he was eager to invest a small portion in the stock market. But the costs and other impediments proved too much to overcome for someone of modest means. The young New Jersey resident did buy a couple of stocks using an online discount brokerage, but he was discouraged by the high fees and what he regarded as a slow-moving market.

Then he discovered bitcoin and bought $20 worth, which is what his two stock trades had cost. "I took a chance and invested in something that is also a currency," Mr. Bosak says.

"It made me feel a little more comfortable, because I wouldn't have to worry about selling a stock, paying a $10 fee and then transferring the money [from his broker] to my bank account. And then waiting 15 days for access to it. It was very disincentivizing."

Today, Mr. Bosak, 29, spends a big chunk of his time extolling the virtues of cryptocurrency investing and teaching others how to get in on the action. These include wealthy older investors who don't have a clue how to go about playing in one of the world's hottest markets.

"These are people who can't wait to throw money at stuff," he says with a laugh. But they first need to know how the technology works, how to safeguard, store and transfer their assets and how to recover them if something goes wrong.

Then, if the global financial system crashes and burns, as some cryptofanatics fear, those digital assets could have a big advantage over traditional investments - because they can be used as portable currency. "You can't take your Facebook stock to Wal-Mart."

Jack Tatar

Co-author of a new investor's guide to cryptoassets

Jack Tatar takes a dim view of investors who become so enthralled with a sexy new asset like cryptocurrencies that they ignore the basics of prudent portfolio construction.

"Believe it or not, I'm actually a very conservative investor," says Mr. Tatar, an early bitcoin proselytizer and co-author of Cryptoassets: The Innovative Investor's Guide to Bitcoin and Beyond.

Mr. Tatar was working as a financial advisor for a major Wall Street firm in 2008 when the global financial meltdown made a hash of supposedly diversified investment portfolios.

Afterward, a growing number of advisors suggested that investors should devote 10 to 20 per cent of their total to less-correlated alternative assets such as precious metals, property or private equity, rather than just the usual mix of stocks and bonds.

Several years later, Mr. Tatar was looking into retirement investment strategies when he concluded that bitcoin could qualify as one of those alternative assets.

"My feeling was, why not put 5 per cent into bitcoin? I actually did that in my retirement account" at a time when that was even harder to do than it is today.

He did reasonably well with that first foray and wrote about the experience.

"I had a lot of people call me stupid, an idiot and everything else," Mr. Tatar says from his office in Pennington, N.J.

Today, as the number of digital currencies and their uses multiply and money pours in, some detractors have become converts or at least have gone silent. But Mr. Tatar, 58, still thinks the inherently volatile asset "shouldn't be any more than 10 per cent of a portfolio."

Fred Pye

CEO of 3iQ Corp., which has created a fund dedicated to cryptoassets

When cryptocurrency investing first grabbed his attention, Fred Pye was running an exchange-traded fund that held the world's best-performing seven asset classes at all times. The idea was to be as diversified as possible. But the correlation among the various assets was too close for comfort. And if another global market crash occurred, the only alternative would be to convert everything to cash and wait out the storms.

Then the financial services veteran came across a report describing an asset class that didn't seem correlated to anything else on the market. "Every financial advisor in this country is on a quest for a top-performing, noncorrelated asset class. And that is something called bitcoin," Mr. Pye says from his office in Montreal.

To tap into that demand, the chief executive officer of 3iQ Corp. has launched a fund offering well-heeled investors an opportunity to participate in the world's leading cryptocurrency assets.

"I'm a real old dog who's learning a new trick," says Mr. Pye, who has been in the investment business for 35 years.

No one can predict which players will become the dominant Apple or Google of the blockchain technology that makes it all work, he says. "What we can tell you is the core cryptocurrencies - bitcoin, ethereum and also litecoin - are definitely large and powerful at this stage and so far ahead of anybody else it will be tougher [for new entrants] to compete."

It's the job of financial advisors to be informed, prudent and skeptical, Mr. Pye acknowledges, before launching into his sales pitch. But they need to know that this is "the single largest financial innovation in our lifetime."

Starting next month, new parents will be eligible for a longer period of paid leave. With luck, that will allow more men to bond with their newborns but, as Dave McGinn reports, time is just one of the obstacles
Friday, November 17, 2017 – Print Edition, Page L1

Later this month, when his second child is born, Jason Goldlist will be taking two months of parental leave. It's to help care for the little one, of course, but also to set an example at work.

The 31-year-old general manager at Wealthsimple, a Torontobased online investment manager, only took a couple of weeks away from work when his first child was born in 2015. Back then, the company had 10 or so employees, all working out of a garage.

"Now that we're doing this with, like, 150 people in three offices, you look at your leadership team and there's a tone to be set," says Goldlist, whose company offers a top-up to 100 per cent of salary for the first six months of parental leave. "If we don't use it, then it's not really a benefit we can confidently talk about with our team."

Fathers who take parental leave usually gush about how important and rewarding it is to spend time with their newborns. But few new Canadian dads, at least outside of Quebec, actually do it.

According to Statistics Canada, only 12 per cent of recent fathers in Canada outside Quebec claimed or intended to claim parental leave benefits in 2015. That's basically unchanged over a decade - the number was 11 per cent in 2005.

Last week, the federal government confirmed an election promise: Starting Dec. 3, parents will be entitled to up to 18 months paid leave after the birth of a child. The aim is to encourage more dads to take leave, and it might.

But there are a variety of reasons that fathers are reluctant, including a financial barrier that is now perhaps more acute: The employment-insurance stipend is only 55 per cent of a parent's salary, now with the option to spread 12 months of assistance out over a year and a half.

Also still in place are various social factors, including moms who want the entire 12 months of EIassisted time off for themselves and, perhaps most difficult, the stigma faced by fathers at work. More time doesn't solve any of these problems.

That's especially true when the time is available to either parent. Experts say that dedicating a period of leave time specifically for fathers and non-birth parents would do much more to boost the numbers of those taking time off work to help bring up baby.

"When paternity leave is available, and it's exclusively use it or lose it for dads, dads take it in big numbers," says Nora Spinks, chief executive officer of the Vanier Institute of the Family, an Ottawa-based charitable organization.

That's the example out of Quebec, where 86 per cent of recent fathers claimed or intended to claim parental-leave benefits in 2015, up from 28 per cent in 2005. Those numbers skyrocketed after 2006, when Quebec introduced a paternity benefits program that gives fathers three weeks of benefits at 75 per cent of their average weekly insurable earnings, or five weeks at 70 per cent of average insurable earnings, up to a yearly maximum of $71,500.

Some countries have similar policies, such as Norway, which provides 10 weeks of leave for fathers only, and Sweden, which reserves 90 paid leave days just for dads. In all three places, if fathers don't use the time, it's not eligible for moms to take: It's just gone.

Maya Roy, CEO of YWCA Canada, says she would "absolutely" have liked to see the federal government include dedicated paternity leave time in the new rules. "The more men are encouraged to access paternity leave, that opens up opportunities for moms, for working moms," Roy says. "And it brings the conversation forward between partners around 'What does this partnership look like?' " That conversation has tangible consequences. A 2015 study of Quebec fathers who took paternity leave concluded that the program "had a large and persistent impact on gender dynamics within households even years after the leave period ended."

In particular, the time dads spent on daily housework was 23 per cent higher than new dads outside the province, even years after their paternity leave was up, while their partners spent more time in paid work. Promoting gender equality is unquestionably good, but many fathers who have taken parental leave say they did it for more reasons than sharing the workload at home.

"It was my opportunity to learn how to be a dad," says Chris FarleyRatcliffe, a 42-year-old father of three who took leave with his first two children when he worked for the Ontario provincial government, which provided an EI top-up that made it financially viable.

Aside from the financial hit of not earning a full salary, men have traditionally earned more than their wives in the past, giving an economic sense for dads to keep working.

But that, too, is changing. "Increasingly, moms are earning more than dads," Spinks says.

Toronto marketing manager Michael Cusden wasn't able to take any leave when his first child was born. "My wife wanted all the time," he says. But he took six months when his second child came along: After an entire year with their first child, she was happy to split the time with their second.

"I enjoyed taking over the home," Cusden says. "What I liked about it was it was my thing. It's not like my wife left a note and said, 'You have to do it this way.' " Samir Basaria, an environmental scientist who works for the federal government, took three months of parental leave when his son Noah was born in 2010.

"It's really the time to really engage and be a parent and learn all about this stuff," he says. "Plus, you fall in love with your kid when you're home 24/7 with them. For me, it was beautiful. It was great. We just bonded." Harder to combat than eager moms is the social stigma ingrained across much of Canada's corporate landscape, where requesting parental leave is interpreted as a lack of commitment to one's career.

While women have been battling that for decades, it's a relatively new fight for men.

Spencer Callaghan, a 41-year-old communications manager who lives in Ottawa, says he would have loved to take leave from the startup he was working at when his first child was born in 2010. But he never felt comfortable asking.

"In that world, you're expected to work as much as humanly possible," he says. (He was laid off just before the birth of his second child, making leave a moot point).

But Spinks believes that the stigma around men taking leave, both in the tech world and the broader corporate culture, is changing.

Younger men are more interested in taking leave and companies are having to accommodate them. "The professional services sector is one of the leaders with respect to young men," she says, noting that there is less research on which sectors are farthest behind.

In the financial services, KPMG offers new fathers and adoptive parents four weeks of paid parental leave. Deloitte offers fathers an option of either three weeks of paid time away from work at 100 per cent of their salary or a six-week top up of their employment-insurance benefits to 100 per cent of salary.

Goldlist's coming leave from Wealthsimple is another example of that change. The average age of people on the team is 32 years old, he says, which is part of the reason he wants to set precedent.

That said, being an early adopter is obviously not what Goldlist most looks forward to with his opportunity to take parental leave. "I'm super excited to build a relationship with my little guy," he says.

Associated Graphic

Jason Goldlist, seen with his son, Abe, in Toronto on Tuesday, is looking to start a precedent at work by taking more time off when his second child is born later this month.


Jason Goldlist interacts with his son, Abe, in Toronto on Tuesday. Experts say dedicating a period of leave time specifically for fathers and non-birth parents would do much more to boost the numbers of those taking time off work to help bring up baby.


Tuesday, November 21, 2017


A Friday Life & Arts article about parental leave incorrectly said Sweden reserves 90 paid leave days just for dads. In fact, it is for any parent other than the birth parent.

Provinces eye the digital future of cannabis sales
As Canada moves toward marijuana legalization, officials in Vancouver and across the country are looking for ways to bring in black-market customers, and for some, that means offering the option to shop from the comfort of their homes
Saturday, November 18, 2017 – Print Edition, Page S1

VANCOUVER, CALGARY -- A small, nondescript parcel arrives at the doorstep of Candice Beyer's Edmonton home every couple of months. She signs for the delivery, then quickly and quietly squirrels the shrink-wrapped, odourless package away in a secret drawer.

The mother of three says the cannabis helps her unwind on the odd Saturday night when her kids are out of her hair, a comfort she likens to the glass of wine other parents might enjoy.

She's not a medical-cannabis patient, so she has no way to get the drug legally. She's not keen on buying from a street dealer and with no illegal cannabis dispensaries in Alberta, Ms. Beyer sought out one of the dozens of underground Canadian companies selling the drug online and started getting the special deliveries about a year ago.

"I've never liked the idea of buying it off of random people [on the street] that I don't really know or trust," she said.

Ms. Beyer is exactly the type of customer that governments hope to bring out of the black market once recreational cannabis is legalized next year.

As provinces reveal their plans for how they will allow cannabis to be sold, much of the focus has been on bricks-and-mortar retail stores and whether they should be private or public. However, online sales might be as lucrative - or more so - as people already accustomed to shopping online look for a way to get the drug easily and, for the most part, anonymously.

And in almost every province that has announced its plans for legal cannabis, provincial governments are keeping exclusive control of the online market - and the profits.

Canada's cannabis black market is estimated at about 400,000 kilograms a year, although it's not clear how much of that is from online sales from dispensaries, which ship their products undetected through Canada Post. That's on top of the legal medical cannabis system, which shipped 33,000 kilograms of product to 168,000 patients across the country last year.

Licensed medical cannabis growers across the country have been telling provincial governments they have the capacity and expertise to run online sales directly to consumers. So far, all provinces except Manitoba have opted for a public system of online sales meant to capture consumers such as Ms. Beyer. British Columbia, long home to the country's largest illicit cannabis industry, has yet to unveil its plans, but has signalled it favours a mix of public and private retailers similar to the model Alberta has proposed.

On Thursday, Alberta introduced a hybrid system in which the province runs online sales and allows private businesses - including licensed cannabis producers - to operate special stores where the drug is sold separately from tobacco, pharmaceuticals or alcohol. The provincial government said this strikes a balance between bolstering its entrepreneurial image - in a place where consumers are long accustomed private alcohol sales - and providing the oversight needed to ensure legal cannabis stays out of the hands of minors.

Oversight of minor use is one of Ottawa's key priorities behind this historic policy shift. To do that, government workers may end up delivering the cannabis.

Alberta has not decided whether it will mark up online product to match its competitors in private storefronts, but Justice Minister Kathleen Ganley told reporters on Thursday that, especially in the first few years, as the legal market is established, the costs to the provincial government - in terms of areas such as policing, education and health care - will exceed any revenues.

Ms. Ganley said the province does not yet have a forecast for revenues from online sales and her spokesperson said no business case was available for this nascent public enterprise.

Potential profits from online sales would be over and above tax revenue. Ottawa has proposed an excise tax of roughly 10 per cent, split evenly with the provinces. Provincial governments say that share would be insufficient, since they have to deal with all of the issues related to legalization, including law enforcement, public health and establishing a regulatory framework and system of sales. A consortium of 12 licensed medical-cannabis producers had pitched Alberta and B.C. on allowing them to run a co-operative network of stores with an e-commerce platform to sell the drug at no extra cost to the provincial government, even floating the idea of a profit-sharing dividend. Pierre Killeen, vice-president of corporate communications at Quebec-based Hydropothecary and spokesman for the Canadian Cannabis Co-op, said it is natural for governments to want to retain tight control of all facets of the market at the dawn of legalization.

A spokesperson for Liquor Stores N.A. Ltd., Alberta's largest chain of alcohol retailers, declined to comment on his company's plans for this new sector.

Jeremy Jacob, president of the country's largest dispensary trade group, the Canadian Association of Medical Cannabis Dispensaries, said a government-controlled online sales system runs contrary to the spirit of free enterprise and will push black-market retailers to continue operating outside the regulatory environment.

"What other industry would you be given the right to retail, but not online?" he said. "Unless [governments] can show that private businesses will not be able to do age verification, then it seems to me that there would be no clear reason for the provinces to reserve retail for themselves other than to gain the revenue."

Alberta's hybrid approach seems much more sensible than that of Ontario, New Brunswick and Quebec, where in-person and online sales will be run solely by the government, according to Anindya Sen, an economist at the University of Waterloo who studies public intervention in markets.

"If Amazon is any indication, [online] is definitely where retail is going," he said.

Whereas the Eastern provinces will want to keep online and in-person pricing level, so one arm of their public-sales system doesn't vastly outperform the other, Alberta can dictate the market price it wants private retailers to meet through what it charges on its government website, Prof. Sen said.

"It's a smart move because they won't have any overhead and, if they set prices a bit lower, they can ensure that the bricks-and-mortar retailers will also ensure that they keep their prices low," he said. "From that perspective, it's very useful to control black-market growth."

Rielle Capler, a University of British Columbia PhD candidate who has been studying how Canadians access legal and illicit cannabis for almost two decades, said provincial governments may be damaged politically for creating retail systems that make it easier for people to buy cannabis, but that is the only way the black market will be squeezed out.

"They have to look at the evidence and not the politics," she said.

A study published in the March, 2016, issue of the peer-reviewed journal Health Affairs found that U.S. states with less government control over legal cannabis sales saw more people join the regulated market, she said. She added that some people will continue to fear and distrust any government involvement in the cannabis market as long as criminal penalties related to the drug exist.

Skye Bergen says she has a prescription to use the federal e-commerce system for medical cannabis, but she says her trusted street dealer has more strains, which she can get cheaper and faster than from one of the country's six dozen licensed commercial growers. The Edmonton mother of two says some of the licensed firms are better than others, but the price must come down and shipping times must be cut drastically for any legal medical or recreational market to beat out its underground competitors.

"It doesn't make sense to put that order in and wait for a week and a half to two weeks when I can call somebody and have them come to me," she said.

Associated Graphic

A vendor trims marijuana during an annual celebration in Vancouver in April. British Columbia, long home to Canada's largest illicit cannabis sector, has yet to unveil plans for legalization, but signalled it favours a mix of public and private retailers, similar to Alberta's proposed model.


Alberta eyes digital future of cannabis sales
As Canada moves toward marijuana legalization, officials in Edmonton and across the country are looking for ways to bring in black-market customers, and for some, that means offering the option to shop from the comfort of their homes
Saturday, November 18, 2017 – Print Edition, Page S1

VANCOUVER, CALGARY -- A small, nondescript parcel arrives at the doorstep of Candice Beyer's Edmonton home every couple of months. She signs for the delivery, then quickly and quietly squirrels the shrink-wrapped, odourless package away in a secret drawer.

The mother of three says the cannabis helps her unwind on the odd Saturday night when her kids are out of her hair, a comfort she likens to the glass of wine other parents might enjoy.

She's not a medical-cannabis patient, so she has no way to get the drug legally. She's not keen on buying from a street dealer, and with no illegal cannabis dispensaries in Alberta, Ms. Beyer sought out one of the dozens of underground Canadian companies selling the drug online and started getting the special deliveries about a year ago.

"I've never liked the idea of buying it off of random people [on the street] that I don't really know or trust," she said.

Ms. Beyer is exactly the type of customer that governments hope to bring out of the black market once recreational cannabis is legalized next year.

As provinces reveal their plans for how they will allow cannabis to be sold, much of the focus has been on bricks-and-mortar retail stores and whether they should be private or public. However, online sales might be as lucrative - or more so - as people already accustomed to shopping online look for a way to get the drug easily and, for the most part, anonymously.

And in almost every province that has announced its plans for legal cannabis, provincial governments are keeping exclusive control of the online market - and the profits.

Canada's cannabis black market is estimated at about 400,000 kilograms a year, though it's not clear how much of that is from online sales from dispensaries, which ship their products undetected through Canada Post.

That's on top of the legal medical cannabis system, which shipped 33,000 kilograms of product to 168,000 patients across the country last year.

Licensed medical cannabis growers across the country have been telling provincial governments they have the capacity and expertise to run online sales directly to consumers. So far, all provinces except Manitoba have opted for a public system of online sales meant to capture consumers such as Ms. Beyer. British Columbia, long home to the country's largest illicit cannabis industry, has yet to unveil its plans, but has signalled it favours a mix of public and private retailers similar to the model Alberta has proposed.

On Thursday, Alberta introduced a hybrid system in which the province runs online sales and allows private businesses - including licensed cannabis producers - to operate special stores where the drug is sold separately from tobacco, pharmaceuticals or alcohol. The provincial government said this strikes a balance between bolstering its entrepreneurial image - in a place where consumers are long accustomed private alcohol sales - and providing the oversight needed to ensure legal cannabis stays out of the hands of minors, which is one of Ottawa's key priorities behind this historic policy shift. To do that, government workers may end up delivering the cannabis.

Alberta has not decided whether it will mark up online product to match its competitors in private storefronts, but Justice Minister Kathleen Ganley told reporters Thursday that, especially in the first few years, as the legal market is established, the costs to the provincial government - in terms of areas such as policing, education and health care - will exceed any revenues.

Ms. Ganley said the province does not yet have a forecast for revenues from online sales and her spokesperson said no business case was available for this nascent public enterprise.

Potential profits from online sales would be over and above tax revenue. Ottawa has proposed an excise tax of roughly 10 per cent, split evenly with the provinces. Provincial governments say that share would be insufficient, since they have to deal with all of the issues related to legalization, including law enforcement, public health and establishing a regulatory framework and system of sales.

A consortium of 12 licensed medical cannabis producers had pitched Alberta and B.C. on allowing them to run a co-operative network of stores with an e-commerce platform to sell the drug at no extra cost to the provincial government, even floating the idea of a profit-sharing dividend. Pierre Killeen, vice-president of corporate communications at Quebec-based Hydropothecary and spokesman for the Canadian Cannabis Co-op, said it is natural for governments to want to retain tight control of all facets of the market at the dawn of legalization.

A spokesperson for Liquor Stores N.A. Ltd., Alberta's largest chain of alcohol retailers, declined to comment on his company's plans for this new sector.

Jeremy Jacob, president of the country's largest dispensary trade group, the Canadian Association of Medical Cannabis Dispensaries, said a government-controlled online sales system runs contrary to the spirit of free enterprise and will push black-market retailers to continue operating outside the regulatory environment.

"What other industry would you be given the right to retail, but not online?" he said. "Unless [governments] can show that private businesses will not be able to do age verification, then it seems to me that there would be no clear reason for the provinces to reserve retail for themselves other than to gain the revenue."

Alberta's hybrid approach seems much more sensible than that of Ontario, New Brunswick and Quebec, where in-person and online sales will be run solely by the government, according to Anindya Sen, an economist at the University of Waterloo who studies public intervention in markets.

"If Amazon is any indication, [online] is definitely where retail is going," he said.

Whereas the Eastern provinces will want to keep online and in-person pricing level, so one arm of their public sales system doesn't vastly outperform the other, Alberta can dictate the market price it wants private retailers to meet through what it charges on its government website, Prof. Sen said.

"It's a smart move because they won't have any overhead and, if they set prices a bit lower, they can ensure that the bricks-and-mortar retailers will also ensure that they keep their prices low," he said.

"From that perspective, it's very useful to control black-market growth."

Rielle Capler, a University of British Columbia PhD candidate who has been studying how Canadians access legal and illicit cannabis for almost two decades, said provincial governments may be damaged politically for creating retail systems that make it easier for people to buy cannabis, but that is the only way the black market will be squeezed out.

"They have to look at the evidence and not the politics," she said.

A study published in the March, 2016, issue of the peer-reviewed journal Health Affairs found that U.S. states with less government control over legal cannabis sales saw more people join the regulated market, she said. She added that some people will continue to fear and distrust any government involvement in the cannabis market as long as criminal penalties related to the drug exist.

Skye Bergen says she has a prescription to use the federal e-commerce system for medical cannabis, but she says her trusted street dealer has more strains, which she can get cheaper and faster than from one of the country's six dozen licensed commercial growers. The Edmonton mother of two says some of the licensed firms are better than others, but the price must come down and shipping times must be cut drastically for any legal medical or recreational market to beat out its underground competitors.

"It doesn't make sense to put that order in and wait for a week and a half to two weeks when I can call somebody and have them come to me," she said.

Associated Graphic

.Skye Bergen, a user of medical marijuana seen in Edmonton on Thursday, says she can get her cannabis cheaper and faster from her trusted street dealer, who has more strains, than through one of the country's six-dozen licensed commercial growers.


Heartthrob starred in The Partridge Family
Although cast in a supporting role, he soon took centre stage and won over millions of young fans
Thursday, November 23, 2017 – Print Edition, Page S6

David Cassidy could sell the heck out of uncertainty.

I Think I Love You, the smash hit that in 1970 launched the Partridge Family musical group plus the ABC comedy-with-songs show of the same name, found Mr. Cassidy centre stage delivering such lyrics as "I think I love you, so what am I so afraid of? / I'm afraid that I'm not sure of a love there is no cure for."

There was no doubt: At 20, Mr. Cassidy was the radiant man-boy to help usher young girls into the untold mysteries of pubescence, adolescence, romance and rock 'n' roll.

For all that, millions knew they loved him.

Within a few years, those legions of fans would outgrow him, just as Mr. Cassidy would outgrow himself, or, at least, what had made him a superstar. His cherubic looks would fade along with his popularity; his laddish proto-Farrah-Fawcett shag would thin.

Mr. Cassidy, who announced earlier this year that he had been diagnosed with dementia, died on Tuesday surrounded by his family.

He was 67. No further details were immediately available, but publicist Jo-Ann Geffen said on Saturday that Mr. Cassidy was in a Fort Lauderdale, Fla., hospital suffering from organ failure.

The Partridge Family aired from 1970 to 1974 and was intended at first as a vehicle for Shirley Jones, the Oscar-winning actress and Mr. Cassidy's stepmother. Ms. Jones played Shirley Partridge, a widow with five children with whom she forms a popular act that travels on a psychedelic bus. The cast also featured Mr. Cassidy as eldest son and family heartthrob Keith Partridge; Susan Dey, later of L.A. Law fame, as sibling Laurie Partridge and Danny Bonaduce as sibling Danny Partridge.

The Partridge Family never cracked the top 10 in TV ratings, but the recordings under their name, mostly featuring Mr. Cassidy, Ms. Jones and session players, produced reallife musical hits and made Mr. Cassidy a real-life musical superstar. I Think I Love You was the Partridges's best-known song, spending three weeks on top of the Billboard chart at a time when other hit singles included James Taylor's Fire and Rain and Smokey Robinson and the Miracles' The Tears of a Clown. The group also reached the top 10 with I'll Meet You Halfway and Doesn't Somebody Want to be Wanted, and Mr. Cassidy had a solo hit with Cherish.

"In two years, David Cassidy has swept hurricane-like into the prepubescent lives of millions of American girls," Rolling Stone magazine noted in 1972. "Leaving: six and a half million long-playing albums and singles; 44 television programs; David Cassidy lunch boxes; David Cassidy bubble gum; David Cassidy coloring books and David Cassidy pens; not to mention several millions of teen magazines, wall stickers, love beads, posters and photo albums."

Mr. Cassidy's appeal faded after the show went off the air, although he continued to tour, record and act over the next 40 years, his albums including Romance and the awkwardly titled Didn't You Used To Be?

He had a hit with I Write the Songs before Barry Manilow's chart-topping version and success overseas with The Last Kiss, featuring backing vocals from Mr. Cassidy's admirer, George Michael. He made occasional stage and television appearances, including an Emmynominated performance on Police Story.

Even while The Partridge Family was still in primetime, Mr. Cassidy worried that he was being mistaken for the wholesome character he played. He posed naked for Rolling Stone in 1972, when he confided that he had dropped acid as a teenager and smoked pot in front of the magazine's reporter as he watched an episode of The Partridge Family and mocked his own acting.

That same year, in what he later recalled as a career peak, Mr. Cassidy headlined Madison Square Garden, wearing the kind of white jumpsuit Elvis Presley also favoured in the 1970s. By then, Mr. Cassidy was already weary of incessant career demands and squealing mobs.

"Oh, they're cute. They get flustered and I get flustered, and it's all kind of fun," Mr. Cassidy said of his devotees in 1972, when he was 21.

"But it's no fun when they rip your clothes and take rooms next door in hotels and keep pounding on the door and slipping notes under it." Reviewing Mr. Cassidy's 1972 concert at Madison Square Garden, Don Heckman wrote in The New York Times: "What happened at Madison Square Garden Saturday afternoon was less a musical event than a love feast, less a concert than a symbolic announcement of what pop music might become. The focus of it all was David Cassidy, singer and star of television's 'The Partridge Family,' and the current idol of almost every 13 year old girl in America."

"At the close of his program he sang his hit song, 'Cherish,' and there are people there who would have been very happy to do just that," Heckman wrote. "But I suspect that their affection had more to say about the manipulative powers of television and recordings than it did, about David Cassidy."

Mr. Cassidy would endure personal and financial troubles. He was married and divorced three times, battled alcoholism, was arrested for drunk driving and, in 2015, filed for bankruptcy. Mr. Cassidy had two children, musician Beau Cassidy and actress Katie Cassidy, with whom he acknowledged having a distant relationship.

"I wasn't her father. I was her biological father but I didn't raise her," he told People magazine this year.

"She has a completely different life."

Mr. Cassidy himself was estranged from his father. Born in New York on April 12, 1950, he was the son of actors Jack Cassidy and Evelyn Ward and half brother of entertainer Shaun Cassidy. David Cassidy's parents split up when he was five years old and he would long express regret about Jack Cassidy, who soon married Shirley Jones, being mostly absent from his life. David Cassidy stayed with his mother and by the early 1960s, had moved to Los Angeles.

Kicked out of high school for truancy, David Cassidy dreamed of becoming an actor and had made appearances on Bonanza, Ironside and other programs before producers at ABC asked him to audition for The Partridge Family, unaware that he could sing and intending at first to have him mime songs to someone else's voice. Mr. Cassidy, who only learned during tryouts that Ms. Jones would play his mother, worried that Keith Partridge would be a "real comedown" from his previous roles.

"I mean, how much could an actor do with a line like, 'Hi, Mom, I'm home from school,' or 'Please pass the milk?' " he wrote in his memoir. "I didn't see how it could do much for me. After all, I wasn't the star of it. Shirley had top billing; I was just one of the kids."

Of course, that wasn't how it worked out.

In the show's musical numbers, he was placed front and centre, upstaging Ms. Jones, an actress whose beauty and crystalline vocals had graced the movie musicals Carousel, Oklahoma! and The Sound of Music. Her voice was buried in the chorus of the other lesser "Partridges."

And while Ms. Dey, who was 17 when The Partridge Family debuted, soon won a rapt following among the show's male viewers, she, too, was eclipsed by Mr. Cassidy.

It was he who could sell the chaste romanticism of "I woke up this mornin,'/ Went to sleep with you on my mind." For a glorious instant, he made mysteries clearer in the minds of his millions of fans.

To submit an I Remember: Send us a memory of someone we have recently profiled on the Obituaries page. Please include I Remember in the subject field.

Associated Graphic

David Cassidy gained fame playing Keith Partridge in the early seventies television hit The Partridge Family. Mr. Cassidy continued to tour, record and act over the next few decades, even though much of his appeal had faded.

Provinces embrace online cannabis sales
As Canada moves toward legalization, officials across the country are looking for ways to bring in black-market customers
Saturday, November 18, 2017 – Print Edition, Page M8

VANCOUVER, CALGARY -- A small, nondescript parcel arrives at the doorstep of Candice Beyer's Edmonton home every couple of months. She signs for the delivery, then quickly and quietly squirrels the shrink-wrapped, odourless package away in a secret drawer.

The mother of three says the cannabis helps her unwind on the odd Saturday night when her kids are out of her hair, a comfort she likens to the glass of wine other parents might enjoy.

She's not a medical-cannabis patient, so she has no way to get the drug legally. She's not keen on buying from a street dealer, and with no illegal cannabis dispensaries in Alberta, Ms. Beyer sought out one of the dozens of underground Canadian companies selling the drug online and started getting the special deliveries about a year ago.

"I've never liked the idea of buying it off of random people [on the street] that I don't really know or trust," she said.

Ms. Beyer is exactly the type of customer that governments hope to bring out of the black market once recreational cannabis is legalized next year.

As provinces reveal their plans for how they will allow cannabis to be sold, much of the focus has been on bricks-and-mortar retail stores and whether they should be private or public. However, online sales might be as lucrative - or more so - as people already accustomed to shopping online look for a way to get the drug easily and, for the most part, anonymously.

And in almost every province that has announced its plans for legal cannabis, provincial governments are keeping exclusive control of the online market - and the profits.

Canada's cannabis black market is estimated at about 400,000 kilograms a year, though it's not clear how much of that is from online sales from dispensaries, which ship their products undetected through Canada Post. That's on top of the legal medical cannabis system, which shipped 33,000 kilograms of product to 168,000 patients across the country last year.

Licensed medical cannabis growers across the country have been telling provincial governments they have the capacity and expertise to run online sales directly to consumers. So far, all provinces except Manitoba have opted for a public system of online sales meant to capture consumers such as Ms. Beyer. British Columbia, long home to the country's largest illicit cannabis industry, has yet to unveil its plans, but has signalled it favours a mix of public and private retailers similar to the model Alberta has proposed.

On Thursday, Alberta introduced a hybrid system in which the province runs online sales and allows private businesses - including licensed cannabis producers - to operate special stores where the drug is sold separately from tobacco, pharmaceuticals or alcohol. The provincial government said this strikes a balance between bolstering its entrepreneurial image - in a place where consumers are long accustomed private alcohol sales - and providing the oversight needed to ensure legal cannabis stays out of the hands of minors, which is one of Ottawa's key priorities behind this historic policy shift. To do that, government workers may end up delivering the cannabis.

Alberta has not decided whether it will mark up online product to match its competitors in private storefronts, but Justice Minister Kathleen Ganley told reporters Thursday that, especially in the first few years, as the legal market is established, the costs to the provincial government - in terms of areas such as policing, education and health care - will exceed any revenues.

Ms. Ganley said the province does not yet have a forecast for revenues from online sales and her spokesperson said no business case was available for this nascent public enterprise.

Potential profits from online sales would be over and above tax revenue. Ottawa has proposed an excise tax of roughly 10 per cent, split evenly with the provinces. Provincial governments say that share would be insufficient, since they have to deal with all of the issues related to legalization, including law enforcement, public health and establishing a regulatory framework and system of sales.

A consortium of 12 licensed medical cannabis producers had pitched Alberta and B.C. on allowing them to run a co-operative network of stores with an e-commerce platform to sell the drug at no extra cost to the provincial government, even floating the idea of a profit-sharing dividend. Pierre Killeen, vice-president of corporate communications at Quebec-based Hydropothecary and spokesman for the Canadian Cannabis Co-op, said it is natural for governments to want to retain tight control of all facets of the market at the dawn of legalization.

A spokesperson for Liquor Stores N.A. Ltd., Alberta's largest chain of alcohol retailers, declined to comment on his company's plans for this new sector.

Jeremy Jacob, president of the country's largest dispensary trade group, the Canadian Association of Medical Cannabis Dispensaries, said a government-controlled online sales system runs contrary to the spirit of free enterprise and will push black-market retailers to continue operating outside the regulatory environment.

"What other industry would you be given the right to retail, but not online?" he said. "Unless [governments] can show that private businesses will not be able to do age verification, then it seems to me that there would be no clear reason for the provinces to reserve retail for themselves other than to gain the revenue."

Alberta's hybrid approach seems much more sensible than that of Ontario, New Brunswick and Quebec, where in-person and online sales will be run solely by the government, according to Anindya Sen, an economist at the University of Waterloo who studies public intervention in markets.

"If Amazon is any indication, [online] is definitely where retail is going," he said.

Whereas the Eastern provinces will want to keep online and in-person pricing level, so one arm of their public sales system doesn't vastly outperform the other, Alberta can dictate the market price it wants private retailers to meet through what it charges on its government website, Prof. Sen said.

"It's a smart move because they won't have any overhead and, if they set prices a bit lower, they can ensure that the bricks-and-mortar retailers will also ensure that they keep their prices low," he said.

"From that perspective, it's very useful to control black-market growth."

Rielle Capler, a University of British Columbia PhD candidate who has been studying how Canadians access legal and illicit cannabis for almost two decades, said provincial governments may be damaged politically for creating retail systems that make it easier for people to buy cannabis, but that is the only way the black market will be squeezed out.

"They have to look at the evidence and not the politics," she said.

A study published in the March, 2016, issue of the peer-reviewed journal Health Affairs found that U.S. states with less government control over legal cannabis sales saw more people join the regulated market, she said. She added that some people will continue to fear and distrust any government involvement in the cannabis market as long as criminal penalties related to the drug exist.

Skye Bergen says she has a prescription to use the federal e-commerce system for medical cannabis, but she says her trusted street dealer has more strains, which she can get cheaper and faster than from one of the country's six dozen licensed commercial growers. The Edmonton mother of two says some of the licensed firms are better than others, but the price must come down and shipping times must be cut drastically for any legal medical or recreational market to beat out its underground competitors.

"It doesn't make sense to put that order in and wait for a week and a half to two weeks when I can call somebody and have them come to me," she said.

Associated Graphic

Medical-marijuana user Skye Bergen says her street dealer has more options and is cheaper and faster than legal operators.


On the cusp of greatness?
Maserati's cars have always flown a little under the radar, but with the 2018 Ghibli leading a refreshed lineup, the auto maker's lower-profile days could be numbered
Special to The Globe and Mail
Thursday, November 23, 2017 – Print Edition, Page D1

MONACO -- Over the hundred-plus years it has been making cars, Maserati, like every good Italian auto maker, has had its brushes with bankruptcy and more than its fair share of mismanagement. Its successes have been spectacular; its failures have been embarrassing, but rarely has there been a dull moment - until now.

Today, the company is stronger than ever, but you probably haven't noticed. It's been doing well but flying under the radar.

Ferrari cranks out a new dream machine or superlimited edition every year; so, too, does Aston Martin, Lamborghini and McLaren.

But Maserati, despite three years of record sales, barely rates on the hype-o-metre.

We're in Monaco for the launch of the refreshed Ghibli, Maserati's smaller sedan, introduced in 2013.

It's been given a new bumper, some neat LED headlights and a little more horsepower, among other things. Not exactly the sort of news that makes you stop scrolling to retweet or like. Having just driven the 2018 Ghibli on the mountains above Monte Carlo, I can confirm it's a good car - excellent in some respects - but it leaves you wondering what's next. What comes after the refreshes and updates?

The company's flagship coupe, the GranTurismo, is now 10 years old with no sign of a replacement in sight. The brand's record sales have come primarily from the Levante SUV, an $89,750 rival to Porsche's Cayenne, which accounts for more than half of global sales. Ghibli sales are in slow decline, although frequent updates have kept it and the bigger Quattroporte sedan fresh. The gorgeous Alfieri coupe concept, shown in 2014 at the Geneva Motor Show to universal acclaim, has yet to materialize as a production car.

Giovanni Ribotta, the Italian chief exterior designer at Maserati since 2011, puts 100 years of history into perspective. "Okay, yes, ups and downs because of some economic reasons or struggle, but in the end, after more than 100 years, we are still here." That's not insignificant. Many other Italian auto makers have perished, or worse. Look at Lancia: The once-proud maker of brilliant, championship-winning rally cars is now hustling rebadged Chrysler minivans.

Ribotta can recount most of Maserati's 100-year history from memory, but here's the short version. The brothers Maserati - three of them, initially: Alfieri, Ettore and Ernesto - founded the company in 1914 in Bologna to build racing cars. Turns out they were pretty good at it. Their cars won the famous Targa Florio road race in Sicily and went on to win the Indianapolis 500 and a Formula One championship. Juan Manual Fangio's victory in a Maserati 250F at the 1957 German Grand Prix - in which he set nine lap records over the final 10 laps to come from behind and win - is the stuff of legend.

Maserati didn't build its first road car until 1947. Its success here was more sporadic. There were beautiful cars, such as the Giugiaro-designed 1967 Ghibli and Ribotta's favourite, the 1954 A6 GCS. But there were also a few ugly cars, such as Biturbo II.

Frequent changes of ownership didn't help. Ribotta says the years under Citroën control in the 1970s were the worst. "The employees showed up one day and the doors were locked." Citroën had gone bankrupt and left without a word.

Today, Maserati is part of Fiat Chrysler Automobiles, under chief executive Sergio Marchionne. With a coupe, a convertible, two sedans and an SUV, Maserati's lineup is at its biggest on record. But record sales in 2016 fell short of the predicted 50,000 units.

Maserati needs some new metal and it's coming, just not as soon as planned.

Ribotta explained the Alfieri was originally scheduled for production in 2016, but Marchionne decided to focus investment elsewhere. New models for Alfa Romeo's relaunch in the United States were a priority.

"[The Alfieri] was too expensive for one model." It required changing the wheelbase and firewall position of the Alfa Giulia platform, on which it was to be based.

Maserati will take a lead on electrification, Marchionne said earlier this year in an earnings call. In Monaco, Enrico Billi, product planner at Maserati, said "Alfieri could be the pioneer for electrified Maserati."

"From a style point of view, we can do a jump forward," Ribotta said. "It will be interesting to see how we do our interpretation of electrification.

Marchionne spoke about the Levante [SUV] as something that we need to do as a hybrid in the next year."

Driving the updated Ghibli shows there's real engineering talent at Maserati. Over the same broken alpine pavement used as part of the Monte Carlo Rally's tour de corse, the Ghibli's composure was impressive.

Where a German sports sedan car would be pounding down the road, the Ghibli's Skyhook semi-active suspension made the car seem to float.

The car feels lighter on its feet than an 1,800-kilogram sedan should. And yet, for all the comfort, you don't sacrifice steering precision.

Maserati is moving to electric power-steering for 2018, which, among other things, allows the introduction of an advanced driverassistance package similar to Tesla's Autopilot or alternatives from Mercedes and BMW. While there's not much feedback through the wheel, the floatiness of the chassis disappears when turning into a corner.

Pushing faster, the Ghibli is nimble and accurate, but never loses that impressive composure. It's probably the most comfortable sport sedan on the market today.

The twin-turbo V-6 made by Ferrari sounds somewhat muted but makes a nice raspy purr. Minor updates have increased horsepower to 424 in the all-wheel-drive Q4S.

Pricing for the 2018 Ghibli is a tad lower than last year, starting at $85,050 (versus $86,600 for 2017) and rising to $100,300 for the new GranLusso or GranSport trims.

In Monaco, where one in three people is a millionaire, the streets were crammed with Rolls-Royces, Bentleys and Maybachs as well as all kinds of exotic supercars. The only Maserati I saw there was a Ghibli being used as a taxicab.

Maserati's cars have always flown a little under the radar. That was the point: a Ferrari with a little less flash, for a little less money. Today, its cars are priced further downmarket, to compete with Porsche, to grow the brand. But - as good as the updated Ghibli is - if Maserati is to survive and hit its ambitious sales targets, it will need more than refreshes.

"I'm feeling good for the future," Ribotta said. "I'm feeling that we can do a surprise as we've done in the past."

Several sources from Maserati said FCA's Marchionne will reveal a full plan for the future of the brand in the spring. The Alfieri is a sure thing, as are some new plug-in hybrid models and maybe an all-electric car to rival Porsche's Mission E.

Is Maserati finally on the cusp of greatness again? We've had our hopes dashed before. In 2014, the Alfieri concept made everyone remember Maserati was capable of making spectacular cars and then disappeared. But the stage is set once again. Alfa Romeo had its turn. It looks as if Maserati's days of flying under the radar are numbered.

The writer was a guest of the auto maker. Content was not subject to approval.

Associated Graphic


In Monaco, the streets are crammed with Rolls-Royces and Bentleys as well as all kinds of exotic supercars. The only Maserati the writer saw there was a Ghibli being used as a taxicab.


Where a German sports sedan car would be pounding down the road, the Ghibli's semi-active suspension makes the car seem to float - a testament to Maserati's engineering talent. Among the auto maker's few successful road cars in its history is the A6, bottom.


'Epitome of evil' convicted of Bosnian genocide
Ex-Bosnian Serb military chief Mladic sentenced to life for Europe's worst atrocity since Second World War
Thursday, November 23, 2017 – Print Edition, Page A1

THE HAGUE -- A United Nations tribunal on Wednesday convicted ex-Bosnian Serb military commander Ratko Mladic of genocide and crimes against humanity for massacres of Bosnian Muslims and ethnic cleansing campaigns to forge a "Greater Serbia", and jailed him for life.

Mr. Mladic was hustled out of the court minutes before the verdict for angrily shouting, "This is all lies, you are all liars!" The outburst occurred after Mr. Mladic returned to the courtroom from what his lawyers described as a visit to the bathroom, then a blood-pressure test, which held up proceedings.

The UN Criminal Tribunal for the Former Yugoslavia (ICTY) found Mr. Mladic guilty of 10 of 11 charges, including the slaughter of 8,000 Muslim men and boys at Srebrenica and the 43-month siege of the Bosnian capital Sarajevo, in which more than 10,000 civilians were killed by shelling, mortar and sniper fire.

The killings in Srebrenica of men and boys after they were separated from women and taken away in buses or marched off to be shot amounted to Europe's worst atrocity since the Second World War.

"The crimes committed rank among the most heinous known to humankind, and include genocide and extermination as a crime against humanity," Presiding Judge Alphons Orie said in reading out a summary of the judgment.

"Many of these men and boys were cursed, insulted, threatened, forced to sing Serb songs and beaten while awaiting their execution," he said.

Mr. Mladic had pleaded not guilty to all charges. His legal team said he would appeal against the verdict.

Called the "Butcher of Bosnia" by survivors of his actions, Mr. Mladic was the most notorious of 163 ICTY indictees together with Radovan Karadzic, the former Bosnian Serb nationalist leader and political mastermind of ethnic cleansing, and their patron, then-Serbian president Slobodan Milosevic.

The tribunal found Mr. Mladic "significantly contributed" to genocide committed in Srebrenica with the goal of destroying its Muslim population, "personally directed" the bombardment of Sarajevo and was part of a "joint criminal enterprise" aimed at purging Bosnian Muslims and Catholic Croats from Bosnia.

Prosecutors said the ultimate agenda of MR. Mladic, Mr. Karadzic and Mr. Milosevic was what came to be known worldwide as ethnic cleansing, to carve out an Orthodox "Greater Serbia" in the ashes of multinational federal Yugoslavia.

ICTY chief prosecutor Serge Brammertz called the verdict "a milestone" in holding Mr. Mladic accountable not just for massacres but the detention of tens of thousands of non-Serbs in camps where many were beaten and raped, and the forced displacement of over one million to remake Bosnia's demographic map.

The Mladic case is the last major decision by the ICTY, which plans to close its doors soon after sentencing 83 Balkan war criminals since opening in 1993.

In Geneva, UN human rights chief Zeid Ra'ad al-Hussein called Mr. Mladic the "epitome of evil" and said his conviction after 16 years as an indicted fugitive and five years of trial was a "momentous victory for justice."

"Today's verdict is a warning to the perpetrators of such crimes that they will not escape justice, no matter how powerful they may be nor how long it may take," Mr. Zeid said in a statement.

Kosovo's Foreign Ministry said the verdict marked an act of "international justice and satisfaction for the Bosnia war victims."

The ministry also recalled that its own ethnic Albanian population, like Bosnians, suffered at the hands of Mr. Milosevic and his generals, who "applied in Kosovo, too, all the forms of crimes described in the charges against Mladic."

President Aleksandar Vucic of Serbia said Serbia "respects the victims."

"I would like to call on everyone [in the region] to start looking into the future and not to drown in tears of the past. ... We need to look to the future ... so we finally have a stable country," Mr. Vucic told reporters when asked about the verdict.

Serbia, once the most powerful Yugoslav republic, is now democratic and seeking ties to the European Union.

Bosnian Prime Minister Denis Zvizdic said he hoped that "those who still call for new divisions and conflicts will carefully read the verdict rendered today ... in case that they are still not ready to face their past."

He was alluding to enduring separatism in postwar federal Bosnia's autonomous Serb region.

Srebrenica, near Bosnia's eastern border with Serbia, had been designated a "safe area" by the United Nations and was defended by lightly armed UN peacekeepers. But they quickly surrendered when Mr. Mladic's forces stormed it on July 11, 1995.

A bronzed and beefy Mr. Mladic was filmed visiting a refugee camp in Srebrenica on July 12. "He was giving away chocolate and sweets to the children while the cameras were rolling, telling us nothing will happen and that we have no reason to be afraid," recalled Munira Subasic of the Mothers of Srebrenica group.

Serbian TV footage showed Mr. Mladic approaching a blond boy in a friendly way and asking him his name and how old he was, then turning to fearful Muslim women and children and assuring them: "All who would like to stay can stay. Just take it easy."

Ms. Subasic said: "After the cameras left, he gave an order to kill whoever could be killed, rape whoever could be raped and finally he ordered us all to be banished and chased out of Srebrenica, so he could make an 'ethnically clean' town."

Dutch peacekeepers looked on helplessly as Bosnian Serb officers separated men and boys from women, then sent them out of sight on buses or marched them away to be shot.

The remains of Ms. Subasic's son and husband were both found in mass graves by International Commission of Missing Persons (ICMP) workers. The ICMP have identified some 6,900 remains of Srebrenica victims through DNA analysis.

The siege of Sarajevo terrorized its people. It involved both heavy shelling that sometimes slaughtered residents queuing outside for scarce supplies, and random sniper fire that picked off people who dared to venture into the streets, or even as they stood indoors by exposed windows.

In May, 1992, as artillery barrages from surrounding hillsides were setting Sarajevo ablaze, Bosnian intelligence intercepted a Mladic phone call in which he was giving orders about targets: "Fire on the parliament, presidency, the Old Town. Fire so that they cannot sleep, burn their brains!" That phone call was entered as evidence in his trial.

Mr. Mladic is still seen as a national hero by some compatriots for the swift capture of much of Bosnia after its Serbs rose up against an early 1992 referendum vote by Muslims and Croats for independence from Serbian-dominated Yugoslavia.

His lawyers will argue in their appeal that Bosnian Serbs were "victims" of the referendum and fought in "self-defence."

Mr. Mladic's lawyers contended that Sarajevo was a legitimate military target as it was the main bastion of Muslim-led Bosnian government forces. They also asserted that Mr.

Mladic left Srebrenica shortly before Serb fighters began executing Muslim detainees and was later shocked to find out they had occurred.

But Wednesday's verdict was never much in doubt, given the mountain of evidence of Serb atrocities produced at previous trials. Four of Mr. Mladic's subordinates received life sentences.

Mr. Karadzic, 72, was convicted of genocide in 2016 and sentenced to 40 years. He is appealing.

Mr. Mladic was indicted along with Mr. Karadzic in 1995, shortly after the Srebrenica killings. But he evaded capture until 2011, three years after a heavily disguised Mr. Karadzic was arrested.

The ICTY indicted 161 people in all from Bosnia, Croatia, Serbia, Montenegro and Kosovo. Of the 83 convicted, more than 60 of them were ethnic Serbs.

Associated Graphic

A woman mourns over a relative's grave at the memorial centre of Potocari near Srebrenica on Wednesday. United Nations judges sentenced former Bosnian Serbian commander Ratko Mladic to life imprisonment after finding him guilty of genocide and war crimes.


Adapting to the winds of change
As she nears retirement, Margarite is seeking to maintain her lifestyle while still leaving a healthy estate to her three children
Special to The Globe and Mail
Saturday, November 18, 2017 – Print Edition, Page B10

When Margarite's husband died, he left his family well provided for. In addition to their home, he bought three investment properties, one for each of his children.

As the years went by, Toronto real estate rose in value substantially. But rental properties require regular maintenance and eventually, renovation. Margarite, who at the age of 69 is still working in an office earning $50,000 a year, faced a severe cash-flow crunch. By the time she contacted Financial Facelift, she had run up about $600,000 in mortgages, high-interest second mortgages, back taxes and credit cards.

Her daughter stepped in to help.

First, they mortgaged the family home to repay the high-interest debt. Together, they decided to put two of the properties up for sale.

Margarite will use part of the proceeds to pay off the mortgage on her home, where she hopes to stay as long as possible. She plans to leave it to her daughter. Her elder son is living in the second house, renovating it, paying the mortgage and paying Margarite $500 a month. Margarite plans to leave that house to him.

Margarite's younger son, who gets social assistance benefits under the Ontario Disability Support Program, has been living rent-free in one of the properties being sold, but soon he will have to move. Initially, Margarite planned to rent him an apartment. Now, she is considering using part of the sale proceeds to buy him a condo in the $300,000 range so he would have a secure place to live.

There is nothing in that price range in Toronto, so the son would have to leave his familiar surroundings and his family.

There's another potential problem.

Because Margarite still thinks in terms of one property for each child, when she dies, her three children stand to inherit homes that differ in value. Presumably, they would also share in whatever financial assets remained.

We asked Warren MacKenzie, head of financial planning at Optimize Wealth Management in Toronto, to look at Margarite's situation. Mr. MacKenzie holds the designation of Chartered Professional Accountant (CPA).

What the expert says Margarite likes her job and her coworkers so she intends to keep working until the end of 2020 when she is 72, Mr. MacKenzie says. Her goals are to maintain her lifestyle, support her disabled child, travel, spoil her grandchildren and leave a healthy estate to her three children "but not at the expense of quality of life," she says. She has not been doing the things she enjoys because she's been short of money and fearful of not having enough in her old age. She needs a financial plan to prove to her that she has more than enough capital to achieve all her goals, he says.

"With more cash going out recently than coming in, it was difficult for her to realize that she is in fact quite wealthy." While her real estate sales have not yet closed, Margarite's accountant has advised her that she will net $1.3-million after expenses, income tax and debt repayment. The properties are held by a private corporation, and because of a debt owing to the shareholder (Margarite), the proceeds can be paid to her on a tax-free basis, her accountant says.

About $300,000 of that will go to buy a condo for her disabled son, with the remainder being invested.

Margarite has very little investing experience and is uncomfortable about the stock market.

Margarite spends modestly on herself, and when she retires, her work pension of $14,875 a year, indexed to inflation, her Canada Pension Plan of $19,355 (deferred to the age of 70 and including survivor benefit), Old Age Security benefits of $7,020, rent from her son of $6,000 and her investment income of $40,000 a year (assuming the sales go through and the money is invested at a net rate of return of 4 per cent) will be enough to ensure she never runs out of money, Mr. MacKenzie says. It adds up to $7,270 a month or $87,250 a year before tax.

Margarite should be in a goalsbased investment portfolio with an asset mix designed to take no more risk than is necessary to achieve her 4-per-cent goal, he adds. She should also have an investment-policy statement that clearly explains the investment process and sets out the benchmarks against which she can measure performance.

First off, Margarite should open a tax-free savings account and deposit $52,000 to take advantage of her unused contribution room. If she wants to leave the second house to the son who is living there, she should consider immediately transferring it to his name so he could designate it as his principal residence and avoid being taxed on any future rise in value, Mr. MacKenzie says. If she is concerned that he might lose it through divorce or to creditors, she could take back a second mortgage to cover her equity in the property, he says.

For her disabled son, Margarite should open a registered disability savings plan (RDSP) as soon as possible to take advantage of tax-free income and matching government grants, Mr. MacKenzie says. She could contribute up to $200,000. If she makes payments annually rather than a lump sum, the plan could qualify for up to $70,000 in grants.

Designed as a long-term savings plan, an RDSP does not interfere with disability benefits.

If she can find a suitable trustee, Margarite could also explore the possibility of setting up a Henson trust, either now or in her will. This also would allow her son to keep drawing social assistance benefits. The trustee has absolute discretion over how to use the funds. A Henson trust can pay out up to $10,000 a year, plus "comforts," including a radio, television, clothing, extra food, recreation, entertainment and spending money, among other things.

She might also want to rethink buying a condo for her son that is so far from Toronto. She could either rent an apartment for him or buy a place a little closer to family, even if it costs more.

If she thinks her children might feel they have been treated unfairly, Margarite might instruct her executor in her will to sell any real estate she owns so the children could inherit equal amounts of cash, Mr. MacKenzie says. The proceeds would be added to her remaining financial assets. She could also consider buying life insurance and using the proceeds to equalize the inheritance.

She should hold regular meetings with all her children so that there are no surprises when her estate is settled.

Special to The Globe and Mail .

Want a free financial facelift?


Some details may be changed to sprotect the privacy of the persons profiled.


The person: Margarite, 69, and her three children.

The problem: How to ensure her own financial security and provide for her disabled son.

The plan: Draw up a financial plan to prove that she has more money than she needs, set up an RDSP for her son and consider a Henson trust.

The payoff: Peace of mind and a comfortable living.

Monthly net income: $5,250 (salary after tax, pension plan contributions and employee benefits plus rent [from elder son] plus OAS) .

Assets: Bank accounts $10,000; anticipated net proceeds from property sales $1.3-million; principal residence $1.6-million; second house $1.6-million; estimated present value of pension $220,000. Total: $4.7-million

Monthly outlays: Property tax $585; utilities $305; home insurance $130; security $35; maintenance $800; garden $20; car sharing $800; parking, transit $60; groceries $435; clothing $110; gifts $100; grooming $50; club memberships $100; dining, entertainment $400; other personal $100; dentist $50; phones, internet $240; unallocated spending $1,200. Total: $5,520 .

Liabilities: Mortgage on second house $800,000

Associated Graphic


Eliminate the bad artists, and you eliminate art itself
Special to The Globe and Mail
Monday, November 20, 2017 – Print Edition, Page L2

The great Renaissance sculptor and goldsmith Benvenuto Cellini, creator of Perseus With the Head of Medusa, was a murderer and a rapist. He killed at least two men and was accused by a model of sexually assaulting her. This does not stop me from looking with great amazement and curiosity at the naked and sexual Perseus With The Head of the Medusa. The knowledge of the immorality of the creator does not distract from my enjoyment of his creation; indeed I am made even more curious to know how beauty is perceived by a violent man. I assume that all art is made by people who are pretty bad in one way or another and that I am going to see the world through the prism of their own particular badness. I assume that any good art will be in part about badness.

And I will eagerly look at the work of any tyrant, rapist or murderer for the same reason. If KimJong Un wrote a novel I would be first in line for a copy.

Nor is my absorption of these things a question of compartmentalizing, of ignoring or suspending my disgust at an artist's personal behaviour so as to concentrate on the art. I'm watching and reading because I expect art to be about moral dangers in a way that is less didactic than essays are. I expect art to be troubling because I expect people to be troubling. I am prepared to like and dislike something in every work. I can also appreciate the aesthetic genius of a moral monster without feeling that I am becoming inured to monstrosity. Just as I can read Heidegger without becoming a Nazi, I can look at one of Hitler's juvenile watercolour paintings and appreciate a bit of pink in the sky there, and understand it as a painting of its era and one by a tyrant at the same time. And if I do this and am judged immoral for it, is it because it is bad for just me or bad for the society at large? A moral question arises, to me, only when money is exchanged. Looking is one thing, but what about buying? If I buy the photo of the work of a babyeater, am I enriching a criminal and therefore perpetuating criminal acts? I really want to roll my eyes at this and say who the hell cares, my essay on it will be more valuable than this indirect complicity - and furthermore, it is easy for me to get a free pirated copy of anything - but okay, I will stop and try to take this scruple seriously.

Here is where we enter the moral quandary that affects the contemporary mass cultural moment. The problem of engaging with art by bad people, it is said, is an economic one. There is Zhu Yu, the Chinese artist who photographed himself eating what was purportedly a human fetus. And then there is Woody Allen. I need to understand the art of both men and so need to look at it. But Zhu Yu and Woody Allen are in fact only distantly analogous because Zhu Yu's art is not commercial. I'm not really supporting Zhu Yu by looking up his pictures on the internet.

But, it is argued, by paying money to see a film by a still-living man accused of raping a child, that we would be rewarding someone who deserves to be shunned. It is also argued that the culture of moviemaking in Hollywood is pervasively sexist and abusive and that contributing to its economic success as a whole is a subtle approval of its tactics. An essayist in The New York Times tweeted "the critical acclaim and economic clout of the art facilitates the abuse."

A writer in Esquire echoed her, taking an even more puritanical stance. We must stop separating artists from art, Tyler Coates argues, and throw out all the movies made by bad men. There is plenty of art in the word and we would not miss the handful of movies by abusers. He does not extend this demand to the other arts created by bad people (novels by fascists, poems by thieves), so I don't know if we are meant to throw those out too. Coates speaks of movies as art to be "enjoyed" (not precisely the role art plays in my own life), and proposes that we deprive ourselves of the presumed pleasure - a simple pleasure, such as ice cream - of the corrupted movies. It will rid ourselves of complicity. It will be as easy as giving up ice cream for lent.

Any Christian will recognize this as a fundamentally religious impulse: The goal is not so much to improve the world as to improve oneself, to keep oneself pure.

I want to take issue with the idea of "enjoying" art as well. Yes, one does enjoy it, sometimes, but that's far from the only reason for art's existence. Art is not ice cream. To consume art is for me as necessary a means of understanding the culture around me as reading the news is: It is necessary and automatic, almost involuntary. It is also frequently unpleasant: Art can be disturbing and noisy and embarrassing and downright awful and I still feel curious about it. I love the movies of Michael Haneke and Lars von Trier, movies very much about moral cesspits, and I can't say I am experiencing pleasure exactly.

Fictional narratives, good or bad, are a kind of oxygen for my brain.

If I were to stop delving into unpleasant, embarrassing or possibly immoral art for any reason I would feel cut off from my own intellect. I would feel stupid.

I am baffled, genuinely baffled, by the idea that by consuming art one is somehow perpetuating the ideas in it. Do I absorb the values of Nazism by looking at Hitler's watercolours? Do I advance Nazism if I reprint Hitler's watercolours in a history book? And should I feel guilt if I find any of Hitler's watercolours pleasant here and there?

Even if I read a book that is explicitly about child abuse and that appears to be non-judgmental about child abuse (Lolita, say), am I perpetuating it or just trying to understand the deeply bad world?

Art can be propagandistic, yes, but I am an adult with a critical faculty, not just a pulsing irrational emotional sensor; I can think and analyze what I read and see.

I get the concern about the financial support of criminals, but that economic question really only applies to living artists and only to certain art forms, and it is such a minor issue to me, such an unavoidable byproduct of the serious and necessary work of understanding the world that I can't really take it seriously. Besides, it is so easily bypassed: If you feel bad about it, just stream a pirated version of the movie for free.

As far as real crime goes, let the police and the courts deal with criminal artists; I have no interest in protecting them. Lock them up as long as you want. I have only a passing interest in the outcomes.

That belongs to a different sphere of activity.

I hardly need to begin the list of great artists who committed serious moral offences. Caravaggio, murderer; Sade, rapist; Egon Schiele, abuser of teenage girls; Ezra Pound, anti-Semite; Jean Genet, thief; Banksy, vandal ... I could go on for pages here, ending the list with me and you, hypocrite lecteur, who may not be ourselves utterly unblemished. Eliminate the bad artists from the canon and you might as well eliminate art itself.

Associated Graphic

Some people argue that by paying money to see a film by Woody Allen, a man accused of raping a child, we would be rewarding someone who deserves to be shunned.


Tuesday, November 21, 2017


A Monday Life & Arts column on bad artists incorrectly said Woody Allen was accused of raping a child. He was accused of sexual abuse, not rape.

Why Sam Rockwell is perpetually on the brink
Friday, November 17, 2017 – Print Edition, Page R1

As long as there are Sam Rockwell movies, there will be articles proclaiming Sam Rockwell to be one of the most underrated actors of his generation. So apologies off the top, but this is going to be another kick at that irresistible can: Sam Rockwell, Underrated Genius, Now and Forever Ignored.

Well, maybe.

The actor has been hearing the "underrated" tune starting in roughly 1998, the year he made an unmistakable impression in the otherwise mistakable Tarantino homage Jerry and Tom. All of a sudden - but really not all that suddenly, since he'd been working steadily and respectfully since the late eighties - Rockwell was the favoured cri de coeur of critics, who took deep, sincere pleasure in noting Rockwell's unique skill at playing captivating psychopaths and unnerving ne'er-do-wells. There is his serial killer in The Green Mile.

His deceptively shy bad guy in Charlie's Angels. His perpetually high space cadet in Galaxy Quest. And his unstable game-show host in Confessions of a Dangerous Mind, which probably marks the height of the Rockwell-is-underrated essay boom.

Not that he hasn't earned every one of those kudos. Thanks to his always-curious line delivery, his twitchy mannerisms, his puppy-dog visage and the surreptitious, wiry dance moves he sneaks into nearly every role, Christopher Walkenstyle, Rockwell has perfected the art of mixing the dangerous with the debonair. You're never quite sure whether this guy wants to kiss you or kill you - and you're pretty confident he hasn't a clue, either.

"Because he comes from being a character actor, Sam sees every opportunity on the screen as a chance to do something special - he doesn't take for granted the fact that he's getting to play a role," says director Jon Favreau, who's worked with Rockwell on three films that couldn't be more different: the indie crime comedy Made, the Marvel extravaganza Iron Man 2 and the intellectual-property mashup Cowboys & Aliens. "Sam seizes every moment, and you can tell he's having fun with every movement of his body. He pops. As actors say, he's in control of his instrument."

Yet with the actor's latest film, Three Billboards Outside Ebbing, Missouri, it appears that the Sam Rockwell-as-underrated narrative, neat and tidy and easy as it is to employ for articles such as this, might finally be reaching its end. A bold mix of dark comedy and darker drama, Three Billboards arrives in theatres this weekend boasting those two rare Hollywood qualities: critical prestige and audience favour.

It's already being tipped as a major Academy Awards contender, and those lucky enough to have caught it on the festival circuit have been lapping it up with glee - there's a reason why it won the much-coveted People's Choice Award at TIFF this past September.

Soon, the 49-year-old Rockwell may not be underrated at all, but simply stamped as perpetually excellent, as expected.

Not that Rockwell cares much about labels, either way.

"The fact that people are saying that kind of stuff, about being underrated, well, that means I'm not underrated, right?" the actor says over the phone the other week.

"They've been saying that about Jeff Bridges for years. About Gary Oldman, who's never won an Oscar.

Anthony Hopkins! It took a while for him to get on the map. As long as people are saying your name, it's all good."

Rockwell's name is certainly a familiar one among the chattering film classes, though it must at least feel good to be, finally, on the crest of greater, potentially Oscar-certified things? Or, at least, to shake a humble tag so closely tied to so many character actors over the years who have yet to feel the warm, fuzzy embrace of the mainstream?

"It does feel good, man, it does," he says, "it's just you know ..." There's a giant pause on the other end of the line, as if Rockwell might be considering the entire arc of his career, or as much consideration as one can offer over the course of a 15-minute telephone conversation conducted on the other side of the continent. "But it's just getting the word out there on the film. You want the film to be seen, you know?

You can do your job and do your homework, but sometimes that's not enough. The movie has to be good, too. This has to be a good movie."

On that front, Rockwell shouldn't worry. Three Billboards comes from writer-director Martin McDonagh, a previous collaborator of Rockwell's both on the screen (Seven Psychopaths) and the stage (A Behanding in Spokane). As with the pair's earlier work, the plot here ducks and weaves in unexpected and uncomfortable ways as it charts one mother's quest for small-town justice following the rape and murder of her teenage daughter. As Mildred, that force-of-nature matriarch, Frances McDormand owns the screen with a fury and vengeance - well, that is until Rockwell shows up as the profoundly dimwitted and racist cop Dixon, who starts down his own path of self-righteousness and ends up stealing the picture along the way.

The role ticks all the requisite Sam Rockwell boxes: Dixon is befuddled but menacing, his anger simmering in a stew of myriad emotions he cannot quite recognize, let alone reconcile. But as Dixon begins to destroy himself and everything he thinks he stands for, McDonagh pushes the character further into the darkness, allowing Rockwell to explore a new level of villainous nuance.

"I think I play good monsters," Rockwell says with a laugh. "For some reason, I'm attracted to the darker side of humanity. But when you do a role like this that requires emotional depth, it can be cathartic, too. Dare I say even therapeutic, though that might be stretching it.

It's fun to be miserable when you're an actor - you can indulge emotions you wouldn't be able to in real life."

Which gives Rockwell licence to go deep while shooting.

"It's like being a child, acting.

You're laughing one minute, then crying, and that's what it's like to be an actor: you have licence to be a big baby," he says. "It's interesting when people are surprised when actors have temper tantrums. I'm not surprised because when you're manipulating your emotions every day, it's an insane job. I saw Gary Oldman recently, and he had a great analogy: It's like being in a Christmas snow globe and you're just shaking it up every day."

And it's those daily tremors Rockwell prefers to concentrate on, rather than any rumblings of Oscar glory, humbling as that buzz may be. "Yeah, you know it's exciting but my mind is occupied right now with working, so I don't have to think about this stuff too much."

Right now, that occupation is with playing, of all people, George W.

Bush in director Adam McKay's Backseat, an upcoming biopic of Dick Cheney (starring Christian Bale; really). It's Rockwell's most unusual role to date, which is saying something. "It's a hard act to follow because of what Josh [Brolin] and Will [Ferrell] have done. It's daunting, like playing Elvis," Rockwell says. "I'm on the internet every day watching or listening to Bush."

So Sam Rockwell will continue to act (and dance) on, underrated or not.

"The work is never done," he says.

"I've been acting for 20 years, and I'm always learning something. It's never done."

Three Billboards Outside Ebbing, Missouri opens Nov. 17 in Toronto, Nov. 22 in Vancouver, Edmonton, Calgary, Winnipeg, Halifax and Ottawa, and Dec. 1 across the country.

Major mountain upgrades of recent years are now being complemented with luxurious digs, sumptuous spas, alpine roller coasters and other diversions that don't require lessons
Special to The Globe and Mail
Saturday, November 18, 2017 – Print Edition, Page T1

Never have ski areas seemed less focused on skiing.

Unlike the past two seasons, when terrain expansion and industry consolidation shook up the global resort hierarchy, there are fewer significant ski-infrastructure upgrades to speak of in late 2017. Instead, many of this winter's additions will please travellers seeking to combine snow sports with other activities, or even eschew the former altogether.

That doesn't mean there's nothing new to excite ardent schussers. Indeed, the most compelling ski and snowboard enhancements will prompt them to recharge their GoPros ASAP.

Rather, it means that the major on-hill developments of recent years are now being complemented with luxurious new accommodations, steamy spa complexes, mountainside roller coasters and even a high-tech ode to Agent 007.

Extra expert terrain at Panorama Follow Outback Ridge east from Panorama's 2,375-metre summit, and you'll reach the four new double-black-diamond trails and 128 acres of expert terrain in this B.C. resort's precipitous Taynton Bowl. There's some hiking involved, what with the new section adding 75 vertical metres to Panorama's total and giving it the third-highest vertical drop in Canada at 1,300 metres. The outermost new trail, meanwhile, extends the mountain's longest run to more than 6.5 kilometres.

Panorama will also become the first ski resort in the Canadian Rockies region to introduce radio-frequency identification technolo...

gy designed to speed lift access and allow guests to renew lift tickets online. More of these guests may well come from the town of Banff, a two-hour drive to the north, as Panorama recently partnered with Discover Banff Tours to offer a $99 lift and transportation package on Tuesdays.

More information:

More black, blue and green in coaster-rich Colorado As well as being famous for its early openings - this year on Oct. 13 - Arapahoe Basin's prominence is growing among expert skiers owing to 371 new acres of difficult and extreme terrain in its hike-out Steep Gullies area. At the other end of the skill (and sensibility) spectrum, Beaver Creek has created a 200-acre family learning area, Red Buffalo Park, with 13 trails accessed by a new high-speed lift. Intermediate skiers, meanwhile, will be pleased to hear that the Montezuma Express Lift at Keystone has been replaced with a high-speed sixpassenger chair serving slopes that are neither too gentle nor near-vertical.

Skiing skill isn't an issue for riders of the state's three new rail-mounted alpine coasters.

Steamboat Mountain Resort's "Outlaw," which opened in September, is the longest such attraction in North America at more than 1,800 metres, yet is only slightly longer than Copper Mountain Resort's "Rocky Mountain" and Snowmass Mountain's "Breathtaker," which are slated to launch in November and December, respectively.

More information:,,,,,

Luxury showdown in the French Alps If you're wondering what Club Med's recently revealed plans for Quebec's Le Massif ski area will yield, the resort chain's new Club Med Grand Massif Samoëns Morillon provides plenty of clues.

Like the new property in the French Alps - and unlike any ski resort hotel in North America - Canada's first Club Med will take an all-inclusive approach whereby everything from lift tickets and child care to dining and après-ski revelry is covered prior to check-in. The scale and amenities of the $120-million Canadian outpost may also echo those of Club Med Grand Massif, which will bring 420 rooms and suites, three restaurants, an expansive spa and heated indoor and outdoor swimming pools to the slopes of the 71-lift ski area near the picturesque French town of Samoëns.

If à la carte ski luxury is more to your taste, there's more of that coming to the French Alps this winter as well. The 71-room Hyatt Centric La Rosière and the 55-room Four Seasons Hotel Megève, both slated to open in December, provide two more upscale options for Canadian snow seekers flying into Geneva or Lyon.

More information:,,

In with the new at Whitewater and Red "If it ain't broke, don't replace it" could be Whitewater's motto. Fortytwo years after opening with a single double chair, the throwback resort in the Selkirk Mountains near Nelson, B.C., has done the unthinkable and replaced said original chair with a new fixed-grip quad lift.

The resort's day lodge, built by local volunteers in 1976, has also undergone major renovations while adding a family play room and snack bar. A 50-seat dining hut, serving much of the same fare that inspired the "Whitewater Cooks" series of bestselling cookbooks, has also sprung up at the base of the (relatively) new Glory Chair. Cellphone service, however, is still sporadic at best.

An hour's drive to the southwest, the even more venerable Red Mountain Resort is also breaking new ground by opening the Josie, the first ski-in/ski-out boutique hotel built in North America in more than a decade.

More information:, The best of the rest

Switzerland: Three new lifts have connected the neighbouring resorts of Andermatt and Sedrun, creating the country's largest ski area.

Ontario: Blue Mountain, the province's biggest ski area, is opening Woodview Mountaintop Skating, a 1.1-kilometre-long ice path through the woods atop the Niagara Escarpment.

Italy: The new Piz Seteur gondola at Val Gardena carries skiers up 1,030 metres of Dolomite mountainside in 10-person cabins with heated seats.

Austria: Along with new gondolas for the Innsbruck resorts of Igls and Rangger Kopfl, the nearby Solden area is slated to open a James Bond-themed attraction built inside the summit of the Gaislachkogl Mountain.

Dubbed "007 Elements," the 1,300-square-metre installation will focus on the 2015 feature Spectre, which was partly shot in Solden, and will feature other titles in the 24-film Bond franchise.,

Alberta: The Delta Kananaskis Lodge near the Nakiska ski area is opening the province's first all-season outdoor bath and spa complex.

The 4,600-square-metre facility includes a saltwater float pool, heated hammocks and a meditation labyrinth.

British Columbia: Just in time for spring skiing, the 88-sleeping-pod Pangea Pod Hotel is slated to open at Whistler Blackcomb in April.

Utah: Alta Ski Area has replaced its Supreme and Cecret lifts with a new high-speed quad chairlift (named Supreme), and Snowbasin Resort is replacing its Wildcat triple chair with a new high-speed detachable six-pack lift.,

Quebec: A new fixed-grip quad chair will make for faster rides up Stoneham Mountain Resort's second peak, while a new shuttle bus service out of nearby Quebec City will provide backcountry skiers with guided access to the slopes of Jacques-Cartier National Park.,

Associated Graphic

The Club Med Grand Massif Samoëns Morillon will bring 420 rooms and suites, three restaurants, an expansive spa and heated indoor and outdoor swimming pools to the slopes of the 71-lift ski area near the picturesque French town of Samoëns.

The Delta Kananaskis Lodge near the Nakiska ski area is opening Alberta's first all-season outdoor bath and spa complex.


There are four new double-black-diamond trails and 128 acres of expert terrain in Panorama's precipitous Taynton Bowl in B.C.


The Montezuma Express Lift at Keystone in Colorado has been replaced with a high-speed six-passenger chair.


Challenging 'the housing supply myth'
At least one academic takes issue with a contention that building more and more homes is addressing Vancouver's affordability crisis
Saturday, November 18, 2017 – Print Edition, Page S4

In Vancouver, the detached house owner is often vilified. So, too, is the resident who protests density.

They are vilified by what one academic is calling "the housing supply myth," which is the belief that we need more housing in order to lower costs. It's an argument commonly used by politicians, industry, and some academics and citizen activists.

"There is an intuitive appeal to that argument," says Dr. John Rose, who spent the last year on education leave, researching the popular belief that Vancouver has a lack of housing supply. "We understand this idea of supply and demand, intuitively, even if you haven't taken an economics course."

However, he has concluded that Vancouver does not have a shortage of housing units. In fact, we have a surplus. And, as anybody in Metro Vancouver knows, prices have not plummeted as a result.

"If we are looking back at the last 15 to 20 years, we have been providing more than enough units of housing - and it's still unaffordable.

"And yet, you see this argument being thrown out there by various quarters, that we have this housing shortage."

Dr. Rose is a professor in the department of geography and environment at Kwantlen Polytechnic University. He's been teaching there since 2002. He calls his report the Housing Supply Myth, based on data from the Statistics Canada censuses and the Demographia housing-affordability survey. He also looked at supply in housing markets elsewhere in Canada, the United States and Australia.

"As a resident of Metro Vancouver and observing all this construction around me, I thought: 'How do we have a housing shortage?' Maybe I'm missing something, but this doesn't seem to stick. And this data supports that idea."

In order to ensure his findings weren't just a blip, Dr. Rose went back to the 2001 census, covering a 15-year span. He found that for each household added during this period, the region added 1.19 net units of housing. Put another way, for every 100 households that came along, Metro Vancouver added 119 net units of housing. According to census data, there are also 66,719 unoccupied dwellings in Metro Vancouver.

And despite a surplus of housing stock, affordability has significantly worsened - a contradiction to the supply mantra.

"It's quite the surplus," he says. "I should also note that Vancouver's ratio was the fifth highest of all 33 census metropolitan areas examined during this period - at the same time as its housing prices escalated far beyond the other markets.

"We would think that if a market got less affordable, maybe that meant supply was getting tighter and tighter. But that's baloney. That's garbage," he says. "So my answer to the supply argument is that it's tenuous for all the markets, because you can basically see no relationship - and this is over a 15-year period.

"Here, we've had more than enough supply and yet the housing costs have gone crazy."

It's important that people understand the true nature of the affordability problem so we can take significant action to correct it, says Dr. Rose. He favours taxes on speculation, and doesn't rule out a ban on foreign buying of existing properties, as New Zealand is implementing next year. He also questions the building of housing units that are overpriced and intended for speculation, and therefore "pointless."

And he's not a man without "skin in the game."

"I am doing research that would, if acted upon, significantly degrade the value of my property, and I think to myself, 'If I sell it now maybe I could retire earlier.' So the self-interested side of me would say, 'Don't interrupt the party.' The good side says, 'no, for this situation to get reined in, something more dramatic is necessary.' " The supply argument also targets residents who are more communityminded than concerned with housing units. Whether it's people trying to fight density in Chinatown, Marpole or Grandview-Woodland, they're routinely painted as selfish NIMBYs who are to blame for high prices.

Josh Gordon, assistant professor at Simon Fraser University's school of public policy, has regularly spoken out against the more-supply argument.

"There's simply no evidence of a slowdown in construction or supply," Dr. Gordon says. "The construction industry in Vancouver is operating at full throttle. There are around 40,000 units under construction, which is twice the historical average for the post-2000 period. The idea that we should get more supply into the pipeline is a bit silly.

"The role of the supply argument is, to a large extent, to distract the public and policy makers from action on the demand side, specifically in terms of foreign capital."

Dr. Rose says the pro-supply camps tend to be divided into those who blame land use constraints, such as the Agricultural Land Reserve (ALR), as limiting outward expansion, and those that argue for upward density, such as towers. Both camps blame government regulations on stifling development and consequently standing in the way of affordable housing.

Demographia, which puts out the Housing Affordability Survey of cities each year, attributes high prices to constraints such as the ALR. In the other camp is industry spokesman and condo marketer Bob Rennie, who has said: "If you have a 'no tower' sign on your front lawn, you have no right to speak to your children about affordability. ... We can't have low density and low prices. ... We just don't have the supply."

"What they're implicating is citizen resistance," Dr. Rose says. "Bob Rennie is very aware he's advancing an argument that benefits him economically. He acknowledges that. But it's interesting that it's an argument picked up by generally well-meaning academics that support the idea of smart growth. I'm sympathetic to that, too. But I'm leery of attributing our high housing costs and the escalation we've seen over the last 15 years to an inadequate densification."

University of B.C. sociology professor, Dr. Nathanael Lauster, who wrote the book, The Death and Life of the Single-Family House, advocates for greater density. He sees the singlefamily house as an oppressive housing type designed to exclude low-income people.

"I think both demand and supply policies, all these things are working together. But I do think insofar as we have a lot of land locked up, reserved only for millionaires, I think expanding into that land, and enabling more diverse housing options would enable more affordability."

There are supplyists who are notoriously confrontational, particularly on social media, and Dr. Rose knows that his findings will be challenged.

"Bring it," he says. "Here's the data.

If you want to argue against it, go ahead. It's publicly available. And when I did this research, I had my independence. Nobody owns this. I get no sponsorship from any industry, any sector. I'm a free agent.

"I think that's a benefit of this research. It's not coming from a school of business that is being funded by the real estate industry, or somebody who's passionate about densification and smart growth. I think there's some romanticizing going on, about what the ideal city should look like, and unfortunately it gets sucked into this debate about affordability.

"I'm just saying look at the numbers and we see Vancouver has plenty of supply.

"And can we build ourselves out of this? Not in this current model."

Associated Graphic

Condos have been rising around Vancouver for years, which calls into question 'this argument being thrown out there by various quarters, that we have this housing shortage,' says John Rose, a geography professor at Kwantlen Polytechnic University.


Plaudits for 'the missing middle'
In Calgary, the Mayor's Urban Design Awards for innovation in architecture acknowledge small to medium developments
Special to The Globe and Mail
Saturday, November 18, 2017 – Print Edition, Page S4

The winners of Calgary's seventh biennial Mayor's Urban Design Awards (MUDA) were announced Wednesday night, celebrating architecture and design that contributes to the well-being of residents and communities and the livability of the city as a whole.

This year, a new Housing Innovation category was introduced, the first category to extol small- to medium-scale residential design.

Chief urban designer David Down says the introduction of the category is in response to the increasing emphasis Calgary is placing on innovation in neighbourhood intensification, accessibility, affordability and improved livability for seniors.

In its inaugural year, the judging panel has bestowed three awards for Housing Innovation projects, more than any other category in the competition.

"We've had single family, we've had semi-detached, we've had towers and podiums but now we're seeing an increase in townhouse and mid-rise developments in Calgary, which are filling a crucial gap in our housing landscape: the missing middle," Mr. Down says.

"This category acknowledges the firms that are creatively trying to meet city goals with regards to intensification, while also filling niche housing markets in Calgary which, arguably, have not previously been well filled."

"To have three award winners in this category, in its first year, is really fantastic and shows the calibre of projects we're now seeing in Calgary's residential market," he adds.

Two of the winning projects are mid-rise, infill developments, designed for RNDSQR by Modern Office of Design and Architecture (MODA). Mr. Down says they "exemplify how to sensitively insert density into established communities."

"Good residential architecture has been a huge void within our urban fabric for a long time now," MODA co-founder Dustin Couzens says.

"It's a blind spot, not just within Calgary but within a lot of North American cities, since private developers began constructing speculative housing on a large scale. For most cities, housing isn't really the sexy part of the city. If someone comes and visits, you take them to look at the cultural buildings, not the residential buildings."

"MUDA recognizing innovative housing is really exciting and a sign that the city is realizing that we need to spend energy and creativity on residential design," he continues, "because there's no reason why our residential buildings can't be as interesting as our civic buildings."

"The next generation of buyer is better travelled, more worldly, and their expectations are elevated because of that," adds co-founder Ben Klumper. "Clients are realizing there's potential in offering a little bit of colour in a very monochromatic market. Firms like ours, and others like us, have been challenging the status quo for a while now and it's great to have that recognized."

But both Mr. Couzens and Mr. Klumper are eager to stress that there's more to innovation than impressing judges with eye-catching buildings.

"There's a lot of advancement being done by younger, emerging designers, like us, in architecture that can be done on a shoestring budget or that can be done on a banal, nondescript site or within difficult zoning parameters," Mr. Klumper says. "We feel that both Village and Grow are great examples of doing something really creative and special, in the face of those challenges."

The third award for Housing Innovation went to Arrive at Bowness, a 50-unit townhouse project, designed for Attainable Homes by Hindle Architects. Mr. Down says the development "impressed with its use of design in context, its street address and street animation."

"The challenge with this site was in creating a housing project that responded to its context and could withstand the pressures of what was around it," says Jesse Hindle, Hindle Architects' co-founder. "It's a unique location due to a convergence of the Canadian Pacific Railway line, the Sunnyside Garden Centre, and the commercial and industrial traffic that goes with that, and the northbound Sarcee Trail expressway."

"We ended up taking those contextual queues as inspiration, borrowing from the materiality of the area by using corrugated galvalum, the repetitious gable form of the greenhouse buildings and pops of colour to mirror the sequences of colours which appear on the railway cars as they pass. That's how we established a unique character for the buildings," he explains.

Design aside, Arrive at Bowness, as with its fellow category winners, has also proven that innovative architecture can co-exist with meeting strict client parameters.

"As unique as the units are, compared to other affordable housing developments in the city, they also met all of the client's requirements: financially, architecturally and in terms of timescales," Mr. Hindle says. "The project has been hugely successful in every respect, not just how it looks."

In addition to the Housing Innovation Award, over the years the city has also added the Green Design category for sustainable design, the City Edge category, to encourage the submission of projects from outside the downtown core, and the Mawson Award.

Named for the town planner Thomas Mawson, the Mawson Award acknowledges projects that commemorate the history of the city. This year's winner is a city project that is preserving the tree canopy on historic residential streets.

"Calgary's original tree canopy was created by William Reader, Calgary's first superintendent of parks, and is a huge part of the city's history," Mr. Down says. "Sadly, that canopy is being eroded and this project is looking at cataloging, researching, replanting and recreating those tree canopies. Hillhurst has some spectacular canopied streets, for example, and we wanted to highlight the work that's being undertaken to preserve those."

As well as the juried categories, this year's People's Choice Award goes to Studio Bell, home of the National Music Centre. Other notable category winners include the New Central Library by Dialogue and the King Edward Arts Hub and Incubator by Nyhoff Architecture.

There were also three winning public realm projects from within the East Village; a retail space, a village square and a sculptural "shed" created from shipping containers for the East Village community gardens.

Susan Veres, senior vice-president of Calgary Municipal Land Corp., says these projects provide "more places and more occasions" for the community's anticipated 11,500 residents "to bump into one another and, with each collision, personal connections are made and friendships forged."

"The Community Garden and Shed, the EV Retail Junction and C-Square Park have all helped to create a new sense of identity for this once forgotten community," she adds. "In my opinion, the public realm improvements are contributing to the vibrancy and inclusiveness of East Village."

Mr. Down says Calgary's "growing interest in urban design" means residents of communities like East Village are "putting pressure on the city's design community to ensure that they're meeting public expectations and stepping it up."

"Engagement in, and discussion around, urban design from the public increases each year, as does interest from the media and city council on the importance of design in building a better city," he continues.

"That in turn is driving interest from architects and designers as they explore new ways to build and create. Entries to MUDA have increased from around 30 in the early years to over 90 this year.

Entries for the 2015 awards dipped to just 45, in the face of a struggling economy, so we're very happy to have interest higher than ever this year," he adds.

Associated Graphic

Clockwise from top: Winners of the seventh biennial MUDAs include Crossroads Garden Shed; Village, by Modern Office of Design and Architecture; and Arrive at Bowness, by Hindle Architects.


Plaudits for 'the missing middle'
In Calgary, the Mayor's Urban Design Awards for innovation in architecture acknowledge small-to-medium developments
Special to The Globe and Mail
Friday, November 17, 2017 – Print Edition, Page G8

The winners of Calgary's seventh biennial Mayor's Urban Design Awards (MUDA) were announced Wednesday night, celebrating architecture and design that contributes to the well-being of residents and communities and the livability of the city as a whole.

This year, a new Housing Innovation category was introduced, the first category to extol small- to medium-scale residential design.

Chief urban designer David Down says the introduction of the category is in response to the increasing emphasis Calgary is placing on innovation in neighbourhood intensification, accessibility, affordability and improved livability for seniors.

In its inaugural year, the judging panel has bestowed three awards for Housing Innovation projects, more than any other category in the competition.

"We've had single family, we've had semi-detached, we've had towers and podiums but now we're seeing an increase in townhouse and mid-rise developments in Calgary, which are filling a crucial gap in our housing landscape: the missing middle," Mr. Down says. "This category acknowledges the firms that are creatively trying to meet city goals with regards to intensification, while also filling niche housing markets in Calgary which, arguably, have not previously been well filled."

"To have three award winners in this category, in its first year, is really fantastic and shows the calibre of projects we're now seeing in Calgary's residential market," he adds.

Two of the winning projects are mid-rise, infill developments, designed for RNDSQR by Modern Office of Design and Architecture (MODA). Mr. Down says they "exemplify how to sensitively insert density into established communities."

"Good residential architecture has been a huge void within our urban fabric for a long time now," MODA co-founder Dustin Couzens says.

"It's a blind spot, not just within Calgary but within a lot of North American cities, since private developers began constructing speculative housing on a large scale. For most cities, housing isn't really the sexy part of the city. If someone comes and visits, you take them to look at the cultural buildings, not the residential buildings."

"MUDA recognizing innovative housing is really exciting and a sign that the city is realizing that we need to spend energy and creativity on residential design," he continues, "because there's no reason why our residential buildings can't be as interesting as our civic buildings."

"The next generation of buyer is better travelled, more worldly, and their expectations are elevated because of that," adds co-founder Ben Klumper. "Clients are realizing there's potential in offering a little bit of colour in a very monochromatic market. Firms like ours, and others like us, have been challenging the status quo for a while now and it's great to have that recognized."

But both Mr. Couzens and Mr. Klumper are eager to stress that there's more to innovation than impressing judges with eye-catching buildings.

"There's a lot of advancement being done by younger, emerging designers, like us, in architecture that can be done on a shoestring budget or that can be done on a banal, nondescript site or within difficult zoning parameters," Mr. Klumper says. "We feel that both Village and Grow are great examples of doing something really creative and special, in the face of those challenges."

The third award for Housing Innovation went to Arrive at Bowness, a 50-unit townhouse project, designed for Attainable Homes by Hindle Architects. Mr. Down says the development "impressed with its use of design in context, its street address and street animation."

"The challenge with this site was in creating a housing project that responded to its context and could withstand the pressures of what was around it," says Jesse Hindle, Hindle Architects' co-founder. "It's a unique location due to a convergence of the Canadian Pacific Railway line, the Sunnyside Garden Centre, and the commercial and industrial traffic that goes with that, and the northbound Sarcee Trail expressway."

"We ended up taking those contextual queues as inspiration, borrowing from the materiality of the area by using corrugated galvalum, the repetitious gable form of the greenhouse buildings and pops of colour to mirror the sequences of colours which appear on the railway cars as they pass. That's how we established a unique character for the buildings," he explains.

Design aside, Arrive at Bowness, as with its fellow category winners, has also proven that innovative architecture can co-exist with meeting strict client parameters.

"As unique as the units are, compared to other affordable housing developments in the city, they also met all of the client's requirements: financially, architecturally and in terms of timescales," Mr. Hindle says. "The project has been hugely successful in every respect, not just how it looks."

In addition to the Housing Innovation Award, over the years the city has also added the Green Design category for sustainable design, the City Edge category, to encourage the submission of projects from outside the downtown core, and the Mawson Award.

Named for the town planner Thomas Mawson, the Mawson Award acknowledges projects that commemorate the history of the city. This year's winner is a city project that is preserving the tree canopy on historic residential streets.

"Calgary's original tree canopy was created by William Reader, Calgary's first superintendent of parks, and is a huge part of the city's history," Mr. Down says. "Sadly, that canopy is being eroded and this project is looking at cataloging, researching, replanting and recreating those tree canopies. Hillhurst has some spectacular canopied streets, for example, and we wanted to highlight the work that's being undertaken to preserve those."

As well as the juried categories, this year's People's Choice Award goes to Studio Bell, home of the National Music Centre. Other notable category winners include the New Central Library by Dialogue and the King Edward Arts Hub and Incubator by Nyhoff Architecture.

There were also three winning public realm projects from within the East Village; a retail space, a village square and a sculptural "shed" created from shipping containers for the East Village community gardens.

Susan Veres, senior vice-president of Calgary Municipal Land Corp., says these projects provide "more places and more occasions" for the community's anticipated 11,500 residents "to bump into one another and, with each collision, personal connections are made and friendships forged."

"The Community Garden and Shed, the EV Retail Junction and C-Square Park have all helped to create a new sense of identity for this once forgotten community," she adds. "In my opinion, the public realm improvements are contributing to the vibrancy and inclusiveness of East Village."

Mr. Down says Calgary's "growing interest in urban design" means residents of communities like East Village are "putting pressure on the city's design community to ensure that they're meeting public expectations and stepping it up."

"Engagement in, and discussion around, urban design from the public increases each year, as does interest from the media and city council on the importance of design in building a better city," he continues.

"That in turn is driving interest from architects and designers as they explore new ways to build and create. Entries to MUDA have increased from around 30 in the early years to over 90 this year. Entries for the 2015 awards dipped to just 45, in the face of a struggling economy, so we're very happy to have interest higher than ever this year," he adds.

Associated Graphic

From top, winners of the seventh biennial MUDAs include: Crossroads Garden Shed; Village, by Modern Office of Design and Architecture; and Arrive at Bowness, by Hindle Architects.


A tale of two REITs
Investors see challenges at Boardwalk, while CAP REIT remains a market darling. Maybe they aren't quite as dissimilar as they seem
Special to The Globe and Mail
Tuesday, November 21, 2017 – Print Edition, Page B11

When the third quarter rolled to a close, Canadian Apartment Properties Real Estate Investment Trust, or CAP REIT, told its unitholders that it was continuing to post strong results, maintaining what it had called a "20-year track record of strong growth and solid operating performance," with a payout ratio of just under 70 per cent. The units have returned more than 20 per cent this year, and hit a 52-week high after the report.

Things aren't as swell at Boardwalk Real Estate Investment Trust, which has a strong concentration of apartments in Alberta and Saskatchewan. Faced with oil-patch-related vacancies, the company has decided to spend more on its properties to prepare for a western rebound. That decision has sharply cut its cash-flow performance and pushed its payout ratio, it says, above 100 per cent - before it slashed its dividend by more than half last week. The units are the worst performer among REITs in the S&P/TSX composite this year and hover near a 52-week low.

Canadian investors, always hungry for income, love REITs because of their generous payouts, borne from the tax requirement that they distribute the bulk of their income to their unitholders. (The payout ratio indicates the percentage of earnings paid out as dividends or distributions.)

Investors who dig deeper into the two REITs' disclosures, and apply a healthy skepticism to their capital spending, may come to the conclusion that CAP REIT's payout isn't as safe as it appears - and Boardwalk is in even worse shape. And they will get a better understanding of why both REITs are the target of shortsellers, who profit when stocks decline, rather than rise. Boardwalk has been among the most-shorted stocks on the TSX, according to IHS Markit, and CAP REIT remains a target of a New York hedge-fund manager who's been negative on the units for more than a year.

To understand the bear case, we must go to the math. The key measures that REITs emphasize are "funds from operations," or FFO, and related metrics, "adjusted funds from operations," or AFFO, and "adjusted cash flow from operations," or ACFO.

Both AFFO and ACFO typically subtract capital expenditures the REITs spend on their existing properties, recognizing that funds spent in this manner aren't funds available for an investor distribution. The wrinkle, however, is that the convention among Canadian REITs is to label a small portion of capital expenditures as "maintenance capex," or something similar, and deduct only that amount in the AFFO/AFCO calculation. The remainder of the capital expenditures on existing properties are labelled "growth capex," or "value-enhancing capex," and are not deducted in arriving at AFFO/AFCO. Boardwalk, for example, believes that replacing a worn carpet or linoleum floor with laminate or vinyl-plank-type material has greater appeal and will allow for higher rates - and is thus valueenhancing.

The idea is that maintenance capex are necessary short-term expenditures, while the other bucket of capex will allow the REIT to raise rents in the future. Therefore, growth or value-enhancing capex shouldn't be deducted for AFFO/ ACFO. What falls into each category, however, is subject to much discretion. Further, many REITs use estimates of capital expenditures, not actuals, in calculating ACFO for each quarter.

The result is that REIT payouts look quite healthy in comparison to these adjusted measures, because the adjustments, arguably, aren't big enough.

CAP REIT, for example, labels its capex "non-discretionary" and "discretionary," with the former "essential for the safety of residents and to ensure the structural integrity of the properties," and the latter "not essential to operation of the business in the short-term." However, CAP REIT, in its management discussion and analysis, says spending on boilers and elevators is discretionary, and therefore doesn't get deducted from ACFO. (The company declined to comment for this article.)

This is how Boardwalk chops up the cost of its capital expenditures: It estimates the useful life of each project, placing the first year of spending into the "maintenance" category and the remainder to "value-enhancing," spread over the remaining useful life of the project.

In the third quarter, Boardwalk reported ACFO of $21.7-million, which included $5.3-million in "maintenance" capex. However, the company reported just more than $48.4-million in "value-enhancing" capex.

The $28.6-million in total distributions represented almost 132 per cent of ACFO. But further subtracting the $48.4-million in additional capex, Boardwalk posted negative cash flow of $26.7-million - before the distributions were made.

Investors recognize the challenges at Boardwalk just from the unadjusted numbers the REIT shares in its news releases and have pushed the stock price down accordingly. But look at CAP REIT, which remains in favour: The third quarter saw ACFO of $63.9-million, including $14.3-million of "non-discretionary" capex.

CAP REIT's discretionary capex estimate for the quarter, though, was just less than $31-million. Subtracting that additional spending takes cash flow down to just less than $33million - and increases the payout ratio on $44-million in distributions from 69 per cent to 134 per cent.

To suggest that ACFO and AFFO should be adjusted to include all capex - and that this makes the stocks less attractive - is an outlier opinion in Canada. Eight of the 12 analysts covering CAP REIT have a "buy" rating, according to Bloomberg data. (Boardwalk, with its challenges and an always-displeasing earnings guidance cut in the recent picture, has four buys versus seven holds and two sells.) However, the way Canadian REITs do their capex math attracted the attention of Richard Rubin of Hawkeye Capital, a New York hedge fund. Mr.

Rubin believes CAP REIT's true three-year average AFFO payout through the end of 2016 is 800 per cent, versus a reported number of roughly 75 per cent. My own math suggests the 2016 payout was 525 per cent, with $133.3-million in discretionary capex subtracted from ACFO of $164.6-million, knocking cash flow down to $31.3-million, versus $164-million in distributions.

Mr. Rubin also believes the annual "maintenance" spending by Canadian apartment REITs is well below what's truly needed to maintain an apartment unit. In a September, 2016, report to investors, the firm Green Street Advisors looked at U.S.

REITs and said the REITs "know true capex costs are huge, but never speak of them - like a crazy aunt in the basement." Green Street estimates U.S. apartment REITs have spent an average of $1,350 (U.S.) a unit annually since 1996, with the figure reaching $1,950 a unit in 2015.

By contrast, Boardwalk tells investors its estimate of "maintenance" capex for 2017 works out to $629 (Canadian) a suite in 2017, while its "value-enhancing" capex was estimated at $3,636 a unit for the first nine months, an amount that could push the number to $5,000 for 2017.

CAP REIT says it plans to spend $1,177 per suite in non-discretionary capex in 2017, down from $1,251 in 2016 and $1,365 in 2015.

It all adds up to an awful lot of money spent on the apartments - money that each REIT tells investors they shouldn't worry about when it comes to paying out distributions.

Holders of the two REITs, however, should wonder whether year after year of "value-enhancing" off-thebooks spending will continue to enhance the value of their units.

Cdn. Apt. Properties REIT (CAR.UN)

Close: $37.36, up 16¢

Boardwalk REIT (BEI.UN)

Close: $39.20, up 63¢

Top books for investors, recommended by the pros
Financial advisors share titles that have made a lasting impact, from The Wealthy Barber to The Bonfire of the Vanities
Special to The Globe and Mail
Tuesday, November 14, 2017 – Print Edition, Page B5

Warren Buffett once said that one factor behind his success is a lifelong habit of voracious reading. He would read 1,000 pages a day when he started his career, though the billionaire later pared that down to about 500 by age 87.

Like compound interest, he says, knowledge builds up.

There are thousands of investing books on the market, but just a few strike a chord with people. We asked some of the country's leading investing minds to share the titles that have had a lasting impact on them.

Chad Larson, senior vice-president and portfolio manager, National Bank Financial, Calgary Mr. Larson chose two books: A Random Walk Down Wall Street: The Time-Tested Strategy for Successful Investing by Burton G. Malkiel (originally published in 1973 with an 11th edition out in 2015), and Robert J.

Shiller's Irrational Exuberance (first published in 2000, with a third edition released last year).

In the original Irrational Exuberance, Mr. Shiller issued a warning about the vulnerable, overpriced stock market at the time and touched on the psychology of speculation and herd behaviour. A Random Walk Down Wall Street covers basic investor terminology and provides a life-cycle guide to investing, with strategies tailored to people of all ages.

"They're classic books," Mr. Larson says. "But what's so unique is that these books fundamentally disagree with each other. A Random Walk argues that the 'collective,' or the beehive of the market, is very efficient at pricing things ... and that there's very little point trying to second-guess it.

"Irrational Exuberance, on the other hand, shows how stock prices or asset classes sometimes get way too high or way too low, and you can be equally misguided not to notice that. Both books make powerful cases to be very passive or be very active."

Understanding both sides is important, Mr. Larson says, and, taken together, they can help investors craft a smarter plan.

Olivia Woo, director and private client investment counsellor, Mawer Investment Management Ltd., Calgary Ms. Woo selected David F. Swensen's Unconventional Success: A Fundamental Approach to Personal Investment, published in 2005. Its basic message is that investors will find success through a well-diversified, equityoriented, passively managed portfolio and the use of fee-only investment managers.

"You may ask why an active manager like myself would be interested in a book that was singing the glory of passive investing and somewhat condemning active investment management," Ms. Woo says.

"The reason why I liked this book was that it spoke the truth in that portfolio churning, high management fees and short-term benchmark hugging are eating into portfolio returns for the average investor out there," she says. "He did mention that managers who are agnostic to indexes, charge low fees, have low portfolio turnover, and invest for the long term add value for investors. These are the investment foundations at Mawer, so he unknowingly endorses my firm's approach."

She also liked the book's simplicity. "He did get technical, but you don't need a finance degree to understand what he is talking about."

He explores basic principles that can help investors avoid selling low and buying high, "which are very typical of an average investor behaviour."

Dona Eull-Schultz, portfolio manager and president, Leon Frazer and Associates, Toronto Ms. Eull-Schultz names two books that left lasting impressions: Tom Wolfe's The Bonfire of the Vanities and Michael Lewis's The Big Short: Inside the Doomsday Machine. The former, a novel from 1987, centres on the spectacular fall of a millionaire bond trader in 1980s New York. The latter, a non-fiction work from 2010, tells stories of those who made millions from the housing bubble of the 2000s and the subprime mortgage crisis. Neither falls into the category of bona fide investing book - and that's why Ms. Eull-Schultz chose them.

"I've read all the investment books; I've read Benjamin Graham," she says of the investor whom Mr. Buffett calls his mentor. "Investing is one thing, but human behaviour, human ego, the way crowd mentality works, for me, is a bigger indication of how the markets are going to behave in the short term."

In that short term, "you get a real glimpse into the 'masters of the universe' and how people with money and power all interact in Bonfire of the Vanities. And in The Big Short, all of the signs were there, and everybody missed it except for the ones who followed statistics and the others who had a nose for looking at the picture and seeing what wasn't right - and then going down and knocking on the doors, seeing who was living in the houses, talking to the strippers who owned six condos and had no money down. That's the human behaviour."

Paul Harris, partner and portfolio manager, Avenue Investment Management, Toronto Mr. Harris's top pick for an investing-related book is Berkshire Hathaway Letters to Shareholders 1965-2014.

Published in 2016, this collection of Mr. Buffett's letters to his holding company's shareholders gives insight into the way he thinks about investing and covers everything from corporate ethics to his own fallibility.

"It's not a traditional book, but this is, to me, a history of somebody who is arguably one of best investors in the world, and you get insight into his thought process over 50 years," Mr. Harris says.

"In this business, everything becomes so complicated, and he has a very simple way of dealing with things and looking at things, and it has worked."

But you also see his mistakes, Mr. Harris says. "He's very open... Berkshire Hathaway was a very, very cheap company when he bought it, but it was a lousy business. You can see how his mentality changed over a period of time.

"You won't be able to duplicate what he's done and you're not going to be as brilliant as him, but you can learn from him. I would not read any other business book."

Darren Coleman, senior vicepresident and portfolio manager, Coleman Wealth, a division of Raymond James Ltd., Toronto Mr. Coleman chose 1989's The Wealthy Barber. Author David Chilton has issued several revised editions over the years as well as a follow-up in 2011 called The Wealthy Barber Returns.

The original book's format consisted of casual, money-related conversations taking place in a barber shop, along with simple, effective, real-world lessons, such as living within your means and paying yourself first.

"When I first became an advisor back in 1992, I gave out hundreds of copies of that book to people," says Mr. Coleman, who has recently written his own personal-finance book, Recalculating: Find Financial Success and Never Feel Lost Again.

"We had all these baby boomers who were becoming adults and having kids and getting minivans, and discovering that life was complicated."

Stocks didn't matter if clients didn't know how to save or budget or deal with a mortgage, he says.

"The book was a great tool to help teach people some core ideas about saving, risk management, buying insurance, and so on, and it was told in a way that was easy to digest. It was very powerful for me to have a tool to get everybody to have the right kinds of conversations that were really meaningful."

Associated Graphic

The book chosen by Mawer's Olivia Woo, Unconventional Success, should help readers resist typical investor behaviours such as selling low and buying high, she says.


Bono makes mark with TFC as a talented work in progress
The Canadian Press
Tuesday, November 21, 2017 – Print Edition, Page S1

TORONTO -- It speaks volumes about Toronto FC's smooth path this year that it made MLS history with a 69-point regular season while manoeuvring a changing of the guard in goal that barely made a headline.

Clint Irwin, the incumbent, was the Toronto goalkeeper during the penalty shootout loss to the Seattle Sounders in last December's MLS Cup. And he was still No. 1 after training camp this year. But Alex Bono's play eventually won the day.

When an injured Irwin had to leave Toronto's home opener on March 31, four games into the season, the door opened for Bono. The 23-year-old from Baldwinsville, N.Y., has played 29 of 32 games since, setting club records along the way and finishing tied for fourth in MLS goalkeeper of the year voting.

Bono, whose last name is pronounced a la Sonny Bono (Bow-no) rather than the rock star Bono, will be the last line of defence Tuesday when top-seeded Toronto opens the Eastern Conference final on the road against fifth-seeded Columbus.

The fact that Toronto has handled the change in goal so adeptly runs somewhat against franchise history.

Just ask Milos Kocic, Stefan Frei, Joe Bendik or Chris Konopka, who all could make a case for being hard done by here. Frei (Seattle) and Bendik (Orlando) are now important pieces for other MLS clubs.

But in a city that monitors Maple Leafs goalie Frederik Andersen as if his goal crease was the intensive care unit, Bono's ascension to No. 1 has hardly caused a ripple.

For one reason, the easy-going Bono has made some eye-popping saves this season.

Coach Greg Vanney handled the situation diplomatically, talking up both Bono and Irwin while quietly handing the starting position to Bono. And the 28-year-old Irwin has been an exercise in grace in watching Bono take his job.

Irwin fought tooth and nail to become an MLS starter with Colorado and then Toronto. He came up the hard way, sharing a house in Ottawa with eight others and making $500 a month when he played for the now-defunct Capital City FC of the Canadian Soccer League.

This season he has been the ultimate team man.

"I'm fortunate to be here with two guys that are really good, two guys that are really professional and conduct themselves in the right manner on and off the field," Toronto goalkeeping coach Jon Conway said. "And you can see it in their relationship."

Veteran defender Drew Moor calls Irwin "a very good professional."

"He's a starting 'keeper on just about every other team in this league," he added. "But he and Bono have pushed each other extremely hard."

Taken sixth over all in the 2015 MLS SuperDraft, Bono is a fine shot-stopper. He is also adept at reading the game and able to serve as a sweeper behind the back line.

He can be too adventurous at times in that regard, but his athleticism usually allows him to clean up any potential mess.

Bono has improved his physical conditioning, which has in turn strengthened the mental side of his game, according to Conway.

But with just 47 MLS games under his belt, Bono remains a talented work in progress.

Bono grew up just outside Syracuse, N.Y. His mother is a speech pathologist in Syracuse's inner city school district and his father general manager of a Mercedes-Benz dealer - a connection that allows Bono some fancy wheels.

As a youngster, his dream was to be a hockey goalie - he grew up with Vegas Golden Knights forward Alex Tuch.

"But that quickly went out the window when my mom looked at the price of goalie pads," he said.

Bono ended up a soccer goalie and had success at C.W. Baker High School. He stayed close to home for college, choosing Syracuse University for both its sports and academics.

"For me, I never planned on becoming a professional soccer player. It was about making sure I could set myself up to succeed the best that I could after school," said Bono, who is working toward completing his broadcast and digital journalism major.

The Syracuse soccer program was on the rise, and Bono helped it climb. He posted a 39-17-3 record in 59 starts from 2012 to 2014 and led the Orange to two NCAA tournament appearances.

In his second season, people began to take notice of him. Bono says he lost focus as a result of "the excitement of the possibility," thinking about the future rather than concentrating on the present.

He rediscovered the zone in his final year when he set school singleseason records for goals-against average (0.55), shutouts (12) and minutes played (1,949). He was named ACC defensive player of the year, a first-team NSCAA All-American and was one of three finalists for the MAC Hermann Trophy as the NCAA player of the year.

His play earned him a Generation Adidas contract and an invitation to the U.S. national team camp in January, 2015, the same month Toronto drafted him.

Konopka and Bendik split the first-team duties that year. Bono was assigned to Toronto FC 2, a humbling experience for a player who was used to starting for the first team. Bono calls it a "slice of humble pie." But it was also a chance to develop and learn on the job.

Toronto had drafted Bono as a future starter and patiently kept the faith.

The 2016 preseason did not go as Bono hoped. He ended up back at TFC 2 but, along with Quillan Roberts, got time backing up Irwin on the big team.

When Irwin went down with a quadricep strain on a routine goal kick in Orlando on June 25, 2016, Bono was the one on the bench and got his chance.

It was a rough baptism. Bono was caught perhaps biting off more than he could chew when he unsuccessfully went for a ball that was sent back into the box for a goal. And he was beaten by Kaka from the penalty spot deep in stoppage time in a 3-2 loss.

Bono would go on to start 15 games, but gave way to Irwin when he returned in late September.

"There were good times and there were rough times," he recalled.

"There were times when people were calling for my head. There were other times where it was smooth sailing."

Toronto expected Bono to win the job in 2017, but Irwin outplayed him. But then Irwin went down early in the season with a hamstring strain against Sporting Kansas City when his left foot jammed in the wet BMO Field turf.

Bono was waiting in the wings.

"It wasn't my first time around any more," he said.

"I was much better prepared for it this year when that happened," he added. "My goal was just to go in and play my game."

His 10 shutouts and 19 wins this season are club records, with the 19 wins in 2017 just one off the franchise career mark of 20 previously held by Frei. Bono now holds that record too, with a career mark of 277-11.

"He's been huge for us," Moor said.

"He's made some huge saves. He's confident, he communicates well.

[He's] everything you want in a good goalie."

Associated Graphic

TFC goalkeeper Alex Bono makes a save against the New York Red Bulls during the conference semi-final on Nov. 5.


Ukrainian PM aims to change his country's narrative in Canada
Groysman wants Trudeau to see his nation as one on its way to recovery after years of conflict
Saturday, October 28, 2017 – Print Edition, Page A6

KIEV -- Ukraine has been in the headlines for much of the past four years, almost always for unfortunate reasons. First came a bloody revolution, then the loss of the Crimean Peninsula and the start of the undeclared war with neighbouring Russia that continues until today.

None of that is the kind of news that foreign investors like to read, so Prime Minister Volodymyr Groysman arrives on Saturday in Canada hoping to change the narrative.

The Ukraine he'll be pitching to Prime Minister Justin Trudeau and Canadian business leaders over his five-day visit is a country that has enormous challenges, but also one that's finally starting to recover from the tumult that began with the proWestern revolution - and Russia's subsequent military interventions - in 2014.

"Of course, Ukraine is experiencing a very difficult time - but also we should stress that over the past three years, Ukraine made great strides to reform itself in many areas," Mr. Groysman said in an interview with The Globe and Mail inside the Cabinet of Ministers building in central Kiev.

He said the economy had finally started growing again - expanding by just more than 2 per cent in 2016 and maintaining that pace through the first half of this year - after three years of precipitous decline that saw the country's gross domestic product collapse to nearly half its previous level.

But Mr. Groysman said few people had noticed the turnaround because Russia's attack on Ukraine has included a disinformation campaign that has been successful at portraying a country in chaos. (The impression is not entirely a Kremlin creation - while Mr. Groysman spoke to The Globe, several thousand protesters were camped on the street outside, calling for his government to resign over its failure to change Ukraine's culture of corruption.) "The Russian propaganda machine is aimed against Ukraine," Mr. Groysman said, blinking the fatigue out of his eyes near the end of a 12-hour workday. "In reality, the Ukrainian army managed to stop the aggressor.

The national economy, by hard efforts, has started to reorient itself, and Ukrainian citizens have demonstrated their resolve."

Mr. Groysman, who at 39 is Ukraine's youngest Prime Minister, is known primarily as the political protégé of President Petro Poroshenko, who pushed parliament to elect Mr. Groysman in April, 2016, after prevailing in a power struggle with the previous prime minister, Arseniy Yatseniuk.

Eighteen months after taking office, Mr. Groysman is still introducing himself to world leaders. But he arrives in Canada with fresh legislative achievements to boast of after pushing through a series of key reforms this fall, including overhauls of the country's crumbling health system and its dysfunctional pension plan.

Both measures are aimed at convincing the International Monetary Fund to release $1.9-billion (U.S.) in funding that is being withheld because of the slow pace of reforms.

However, neither measure has yet convinced the IMF, or the protesters on the streets.

The trip to Canada is one of the most important foreign excursions Mr. Groysman has undertaken. The warm relationship between the two countries - nurtured by the politically powerful Ukrainian-Canadian diaspora - is a critical one for Kiev.

With U.S. President Donald Trump battling accusations that the Kremlin aided his election bid and the European Union far from united over how to deal with Vladimir Putin's regime, Ukraine has no stauncher ally than Canada.

Canadian governments - both Liberal and Conservative - have slapped sanctions on Mr. Putin's inner circle and sent Canadian soldiers and police to help train Ukraine's security services. The Canada-Ukraine Free Trade Agreement - which eliminates duties on most goods produced in one country and imported to the other - came into force on Aug. 1.

"Putting it bluntly, Canada became an absolutely crucial partner for Ukraine for the past three years, since the start of Russia's undeclared war in Ukraine," said Taras Berezovets, a Kiev-based political analyst.

The only hiccup in the relationship, he said, has been Canada's refusal to provide lethal weapons to the Ukrainian army - a step Ottawa is unlikely to take unless the United States joins it, because of the angry reaction it would provoke from Moscow.

The close ties between Kiev and Ottawa mean that an idea floated by Mr. Poroshenko during his own recent visit to Canada - he called for a Canadian-led peacekeeping mission in eastern Ukraine - is almost certainly a non-starter. Russia, which supports and supplies the separatist militias that have taken over parts of southeastern Ukraine, sees Canada as anything but a neutral party in the conflict and would almost certainly object to Canadian peacekeepers should the idea ever get as far as the United Nations.

The aims of Mr. Groysman's own visit are less controversial: He wants to talk less about the war and more about the opportunities in Ukraine for Canadian businesses.

He'll address the business and political leaders at the Toronto Global Forum on Monday before travelling on to Ottawa for meetings with Mr. Trudeau and Foreign Minister Chrystia Freeland. Afterward, Mr. Groysman will visit Montreal to directly lobby Canadian aerospace companies for investment in Ukraine's plane-making sector, which produces the famed Antonov cargo planes, but has lost much of its supply chain owing to the conflict with Russia.

Mr. Groysman is hoping other industries, particularly Canada's agribusiness sector - which could help Ukraine's farmers though a technological upgrade - will be interested in taking advantage of lower tariffs under the new free-trade pact.

"When people think about Ukraine, they think about corruption and conflict. We want to say that we're the last emerging market in Europe, and we're trending up - buy in while asset prices are low," said Daniel Bilak, a Canadian-born lawyer working both as an adviser to Mr. Groysman and the head of a government agency tasked with drawing foreign investment to the country.

While Mr. Groysman has never met Mr. Trudeau - who will have the rare experience of being the elder statesman in the room, at the age of 45 - they have appeared together on lists of the world's youngest leaders.

The two men have little in common beyond their youth; Mr. Groysman shares almost none of Mr. Trudeau's easy charisma. In person, he comes across as earnest and intense, qualities that earned him admiration during his eight-year stint as mayor of the mid-sized city of Vinnytsia but don't easily translate into nationwide popularity.

Opinion polls suggest that support for Mr. Poroshenko has fallen below 20 per cent, raising the question of whether he can win re-election in 2019. The same polls show Mr. Groysman - who has quietly begun to distance himself from Mr. Poroshenko - has almost no support base of his own, with just 5 per cent saying they would vote for him in a multicandidate presidential election.

Still Mr. Groysman said he hoped that he and Mr. Trudeau would find it easy to understand each other.

"Politics around the world is getting younger indeed," he said, pointing to France's 39-year-old President Emmanuel Macron, and the newly elected Prime Minister of Austria, 31year-old Sebastian Kurz.

"We are representatives of the new generation," Mr. Groysman said, cracking a rare smile. "Maybe we see the world differently."

Follow me on Twitter: @markmackinnon

Associated Graphic

Ukrainian Prime Minister Volodymyr Groysman, seen in Berlin in June, 2016, will address Prime Minister Justin Trudeau and a number of Canadian business leaders when he arrives in Ottawa on Saturday.


The Mustang, refreshed and rearing
Reboot of venerable brand includes high-tech tricks, such as 'line-lock' mode for smoking the rear tires
Special to The Globe and Mail
Thursday, November 16, 2017 – Print Edition, Page D1

MALIBU, CALIF. -- The roads in Southern California are among the best in the world. Head out into the low canyons and they twist and curve through the valleys, climbing and dropping and challenging everything about your vehicle. They're smooth and untouched by frost, and there are frequent pullouts for slower traffic. Except ... in California, most drivers never seem to use those pullouts, as we learned test driving the new Ford Mustang.

The car is built for power and agility, but when it's stuck behind an older car - in this case, an Outback - refusing to cede its slower place on the highway, well, that's it. You might as well be in that car.

A ripe thesaurus of Québécois vernacular spat its way toward the oblivious roadblock as yet another pullout area passed unheeded. The Outback ahead stayed resolutely on its lumbering path into the mountains. We were well below the speed limit and patience was definitely a virtue.

We drove for some distance before finally pulling off onto another canyon road where the Mustang could open up and stretch its new legs.

Officially, the 2018 model is a refresh of the all-new car that was released to great fanfare in 2015.

There are many changes and differences, though, that are more extensive than the usual makeover that lesser models receive.

"This is one of the most aggressive refreshes you'll ever see for a vehicle," says the new Mustang's chief engineer, Carl Widmann.

There's no more V-6, for example, but just a choice between the 460-horsepower, 5.0-litre V-8 (up 25 hp from last year) or the 310-hp, 2.3-litre, four-cylinder EcoBoost that's also found in the Focus RS.

What you really need to know is the smaller engine makes an impressive 350 lb-ft of torque, which is 30 more than last year's EcoBoost.

There's a 10-speed automatic transmission with paddle shifters to replace the previous six-speed (a $1,500 option over the six-speed manual), and both transmissions have much heftier clutches to handle the extra power. The V-8 now has direct fuel injection with 16 injectors, not just eight. "It shoots atomized fuel out of a direct injector, so you get a better burn because the fuel's already been atomized," says Widmann, who loves being able to explain this stuff. "If you get a better burn, you can increase the compression ratio. It goes from 11:1 to 12:1, and I get power out of that, and fuel efficiency out of that."

There's more, such as the new manifolds and re-ported head and the spray-bore technology taken from the Shelbys, but it's clear this is more than just a few tweaks here and there.

Even the shape of the car is a little different. The hood is 25 mm lower at the front, for smoother aerodynamics, and the hood vents are now safe in the rest of the world for meeting pedestrian-protection legislation - until today, Mustangs couldn't be exported with hood vents.

Most drivers, though, will be most impressed with the new digital gauges that swap their appearance between the various driving modes.

They were designed by engineers but also by video gamers. For example, when you activate "line-lock" so the front wheels are braked but the rear wheels are allowed to spin for a bigtime smoke-out (now available with both engines, not just the V-8), there's an icon on the instrument cluster that shows a spinning wheel and a whole pile of obscuring smoke.

Finally, virtual reality crosses into the real world. So do the consequences: Try this on a public road and you'll probably lose your licence for stunting.

Normally, I'd be content with the less powerful car for driving on public roads, but the V-8 has an ace up its sprayed-on cylinder sleeves. Its exhaust can be easily set to any of four different sound levels, from Quiet to Track, and they're progressively louder and more crackly. "We wanted Track to be as far as we could push the limits and still be legal," Widmann says.

Other cars, such as Jaguar F-Types, have buttons for a louder exhaust, but the Mustang doesn't stop there.

It has a "good neighbour" function so the driver can set the exhaust to default to Quiet at specific times of day, such as early morning. Clearly, these engineers live in the Detroit 'burbs, and Widmann proves this. "I drive in Sport mode usually," he says, "but I set the timer so that when I start the car in my little area of suburbia I don't blow my neighbours out of their beds."

How considerate. If only California drivers were so thoughtful of others.

"How's the car handling?" asked my co-driver as I swept through the fast curves of the perfectly cambered canyon road. He'd driven for an hour but had no idea of the Mustang's potential.

In truth, it felt as capable as last year's model, which is still very capable indeed. On paper, it's a bit quicker, with Ford claiming a zero-to-100 km/h time of "less than four seconds" for the V-8 and "less than five seconds" for the EcoBoost.

It's not just the ride these days on our more congested streets. It's the image, and the Mustang is a surprisingly refined vehicle for a car that starts at $28,888 for the base EcoBoost coupe and pegs out at $52,738 for the GT convertible. And it's also just the promise of being able to deliver, should you call on it. The little spinning-wheel icon and crackly exhaust are only a couple of button presses away. Just be careful where you use them, especially if you live in the 'burbs.

The writer was a guest of the auto maker. Content was not subject to approval.


Base price: $28,888; as tested: $47,188, plus $1,750 destination and delivery

Engine: 2.3-litre, turbocharged, I-4 EcoBoost; 5.0-litre V-8

Transmission/drive: Six-speed manual or 10-speed automatic/ rear-wheel

Fuel economy (litres/100 km): 2.3 L manual: 11.0 city, 7.7 highway, 9.5 combined; 5.0 L automatic: 15.1 city, 9.3 highway, 12.5 combined

Alternatives: Chevrolet Camaro, Dodge Challenger RATINGS .


Even snarlier, with that lower hood and those squinting headlights, which are redesigned and all LED.


Surprisingly refined for a performance car. Ford spent a lot of time finessing the cabin to give it a classier look. Much of the chrome brightwork, for example, is now replaced with "satin aluminum" for a higherend appeal without greater cost.


More power and slightly better fuel consumption.


The next generation of Ford's Sync 3 system for staying connected, plus 2,000 design hours of fiddling with the gauges, are all paying off.


No different from before and still cramped in the back seat. Not your problem though, eh?


9 A solid improvement to an iconic car.

Associated Graphic


The shape of the Mustang has been tweaked, with the hood now 25 mm lower at the front for smoother aerodynamics. The dashboard has been designed by engineers as well as video gamers and includes digital gauges that swap their appearance between various driving modes.


As the Swiss Alps get warmer and European powder becomes more unreliable, hoteliers are thinking beyond the ski hill, Bert Archer writes, offering alternatives such as wide-tire biking and tennis alongside art collections, Michelin-starred restaurants, cheese humidors and world-class spas
Special to The Globe and Mail
Tuesday, November 21, 2017 – Print Edition, Page L1

BURGENSTOCK, SWITZERLAND -- My first evening at the Burgenstock Resort in the Swiss Alps was spent eating, among other things, mouhamara, the Syrian red pepper, pomegranate and walnut tartinade that is to hummus what foie gras is to cat food.

The next day, I ate breakfast at a French restaurant run by a threestarred chef, had a Swiss lunch in a modern chalet and learned all I ever wanted to know but was afraid to ask about three-stage cryogenic slimming in an on-site hospitalhotel. It was only after a day at the 10,000-square-metre spa, with its four pools, infrared sauna and a steam room redolent of a starlit cave that it even occurred to me to ask where you go to ski.

Welcome to the new Switzerland, where across the Alps - the place where the ski holiday was invented - hotels and resorts are offsetting the increasingly unreliable snow with luxuries intended to make you forget about the weather.

Skiing in Switzerland has, for the past hundred years or so, been much like cottaging in Muskoka. It's beautiful, often involves a lot of money, but there's been a modesty that infuses everything. The typical Swiss ski lodge is built from unstained logs, the rooms are clean and comfortable, but mostly utilitarian. People are there to ski.

But since the 2012 opening of the $400-million Alpina in Gstaad and the high-design W in Verbier, the Alpine game has been raised, and hoteliers have begun to enter the 21st century.

They've had to. Mountains across Europe are subject to wonky weather systems that can bring snow in October, replace it with 20 C heat in November, and then tease you with alternating snow and sleet in December and January before finally putting down some powder for a couple of weeks in February and maybe March.

"In central Switzerland, even at 1,450-metre altitude, we are not secure any more," says Jean-Yves Blatt, manager of the nearby Chedi Andermatt, another of this new magisterial breed of Swiss hotel.

Andermatt, about 45 minutes north and 1,000 metres higher than the Burgenstock, has made a golf course part of its development plan, has started using snow cannons - unheard of in these parts until a few years ago - and the Chedi includes a skating rink and opulent lounges with high tea and classical pianists clearly meant for long indoor days.

It even has a ski museum - walls of Olympian autographs on the skis they used to win their medals - that lends the place the same bittersweet nostalgic air Joni Mitchell was going for with her tree museum.

Blatt calls this new breed destination hotels and figures about 70 per cent of his guests come for the hotel itself.

There have always been luxury hotels in Switzerland, mostly in cities, such as the Baur au Lac in Zurich, or Lausanne's Beau Rivage Palace. But the ones in the mountains, such as the 100-year-old Gstaad Palace, have always relied heavily on their incomparable surroundings. Nice carpets, pretty chairs, comfy beds, good food; but it was mostly about what was outside.

Not any more.

In addition to that sprawling spa, the Burgenstock has one of the most boldly designed indoor tennis courts I've seen. There's the restaurant where I had breakfast, called RitzCoffier, run by Marc Haeberlin, whose other restaurant, l'Auberge de I'Ill, has had three Michelin stars since 1967, when his father ran it.

Then there's Sharq, the Persian-Lebanese restaurant; Spices, the Asian one; and Taverne 1879 for traditional Swiss fare. It would all sound like one of those Mexican all-inclusives were it not for the fact that every one of them is run by a top-notch chef preparing food that's better than anything you'll find in town.

For its part, the Alpina has a world-class art collection on its walls, including work by General Idea, Tracey Emin, as well as a raft of international artists, including Canadians Terence Koh and the late Richard Hambleton. This isn't hotel art, it's a real collection, like George Marciano's at L'Hotel in Montreal. It also has an annual bike festival in January and rents glacier-friendly fat bikes to its guests. I took one out for an afternoon on the Diablerets Glacier and once I began to trust those enormous tires, I was zooming down hills, taking sharp turns on ice and snow and generally forgetting all about those grassy ski runs.

The Chedi has two-storey cheese humidor and it's debuting a watch lounge in December, where guests will be able to browse a collection of five- and six-figure timepieces while sipping cocktails made by 23-yearold Jason-Candid Knusel, 2017's Swiss barkeeper of the year, whom it got from another of those grand oldschool hotels, the Widder in Zurich.

(Try his yuzu sake cocktail with Earl Grey-infused Tanqueray with lavender, elderflower and orange syrups, served in a tea cup.)

But one suspects the real money at the Chedi went into the Michelin consultant, a former judge Blatt says it hired to tell it what it needed to do to get a star. And it worked. In October, the simply named Japanese Restaurant, headed by Swiss-born Aussie chef Dietmar Sawyere, became only the second Japanese restaurant in Switzerland to get a star (the other is at the Alpina). The kaiseki menu's hamachi sashimi served under glass in a cloud of oak smoke on a bed of ginger-infused sour cream is worth a star all on its own.

Walking the grounds of the Burgenstock, you realize the ingredients were always there. Originally built in 1871, it became one of Switzerland's most famous hotels for things like its 153-metre Hammetschwand elevator that you can still take up and down the side of the mountain. In the 1950s, owner Fritz Frey spent time in Los Angeles and immediately ordered a kidney-shaped pool built, with a bar underneath with portholes to watch the swimmers while bathing in the pale-blue chlorine-filtered light. Admission was members-only, but the atmosphere Frey created was enough to attract the world's richest and most famous. Both Audrey Hepburn and Sophia Loren lived on the grounds for years, and Hepburn married Mel Ferrer at the simple white chapel here. When the pool bar reopens next month, part of the grand relaunch after nine years of renovation and rebuilding, it'll be open to everyone.

You can still ski, of course. If you can find the time.

The writer was a guest of the Burgenstock Resort, and has been a guest of the Chedi, W and Alpina Gstaad in the past. None of them reviewed or approved this article.

Associated Graphic

Along with many of its peers in the country who are pushing to supplement the ski activities available at their resorts, the Chedi Andermatt in Switzerland has integrated a golf course into its development plan and offers a skating rink, opulent lounges and classical pianists to fill out those long indoor days.

Above: The Chedi Andermatt in central Switzerland has started using snow cannons to dust the hills, a move unheard of in the region until a few years ago, amid wonky weather systems that can sometimes bring 20-degree heat in November.

Right: The Burgenstock Resort's Alpine spa spans 10,000 square metres and has four pools, an infrared sauna and a steam room redolent of a starlit cave.

Glossier founder Emily Weiss has created a brand that appeals to millennials like no other. Caitlin Agnew met with the entrepreneur in Toronto and learned the seemingly simple secret to Weiss's success - listening to her customers
Special to The Globe and Mail
Saturday, November 18, 2017 – Print Edition, Page L6

A group of people lining up to buy something is a rare sight in 2017, but that's exactly what happens when Glossier comes to town. In July, the American beauty brand announced that Canada would become its first international shipping destination, an expansion it celebrated in September with a pop-up shop on Toronto's Queen Street West. For one week, Glossier transformed a former truck rental building into a pale pink temple of skincare and makeup, complete with upbeat staffers wearing pink jumpsuits. The response was tremendous - queues of beauty junkies waiting to get in stretched hundreds of people long.

If scrolling through Instagram is not a part of your beauty regimen, you may not have heard of Glossier, which takes a digital-first approach to pretty much everything. Headquartered in New York's SoHo neighbourhood with a team of more than 100 mostly female staff, Glossier was founded in 2014 by Emily Weiss, a 32-year-old former fashion editor who spent time at Teen Vogue, W magazine and Vogue. In 2010, Weiss left print editorial to launch the website Into the Gloss where she interviewed women about their beauty routines in a series called The Top Shelf. Over the years, her subjects came from a wide variety of backgrounds and tastes, ranging from stars like Selena Gomez, Kim Kardashian and Catherine Deneuve to industry insiders like beauty editor Jean Godfrey-June, makeup artist Val Garland and wellness influencer Hannah Bronfman - basically anyone who's ever been attached to the hashtag #girlcrush.

"What that really taught me was that the best beauty tips and recommendations come from other women. They don't come from experts; they don't come from brands.

They come from the women you admire, and that could be anyone," says Weiss in Toronto on a sunny morning before the pop-up opens. "That really led me to think, well, there should be a beauty company that really celebrates that and facilitates these conversations."

And so Glossier was born, launching with four baseline products: Soothing Face Mist, Perfecting Skin Tint, Balm Dotcom and Priming Moisturizer. But rather than following the traditional model of approaching vendors with a new product line, Weiss took her $2-million (U.S.) in seed funding and launched the direct-to-consumer brand to her existing audience on Instagram.

"Glossier is the first beauty lifestyle brand that really exists to involve our community every step of the way and that means things like writing back to people [via direct message] or involving them in product development, asking them what they want, giving them the most personalized, best customer experience," Weiss says.

Now at the three-year mark, Glossier has established itself as a top millennial-focused brand not just in beauty, but in all industries. With 600 per cent year-over-year growth, Glossier has raised more than $34.4-million (U.S.) in venture capital to date and has 773,000 followers on social media.

Amy Chung, a beauty industry analyst at market research firm NPD Group, says the brand has Weiss's organic business approach to thank for its rapid growth.

"In recent years, there's been lots of talk about whether brands are authentic and whether they're genuine. Glossier is one of the few that really spawns from that authenticity," she says. "Essentially [Weiss] created something that she wanted to use and thought that some other people out there might be interested in it and launched it. Some of the other more traditional companies, if they even try to reach millennial consumers these days, might be doing some research but essentially it's the company creating what they think consumers want but not quite going out there to find out.

It's kind of cool and the opposite of what we're used to." Cool and unique comes naturally to Weiss, who takes a crowdsourcing approach to developing each Glossier product.

For the Priming Moisturizer Rich, a dense, nourishing cream that launched in January 2017, a post on Into the Gloss asked readers about their top requests for a rich moisturizer, and the resulting formula was based on the more than 1,000 comments they received.

"We don't set out to be a disruptor in the same way that I think it's futile to set out to be cool. Those are not goals," says Weiss. "We set out to be inclusive, have fun, be really clever, be thoughtful and really listen to her at every step of the way."

One such voice they're listening to is that of Estelle Phillips, a 21-year-old makeup artist at Toronto's LAC+Beauty spa, who uses Glossier personally and in her professional work. Explaining why she's attracted to the brand, Phillips points to the ease of use and efficacy of Glossier's products and the approachability of its signature aesthetic - a fresh, dewy complexion, full brows and rosy lips. It's the opposite of the fully done look she and her clients are used to seeing on popular YouTube makeup tutorials.

"As much as their artistry skills are incredible, it's almost promoting soft drag as a wearable makeup look," Phillips says. "Seeing these girls that have beautiful skin and small pores then go in and put on five pounds of foundation, highlight, contour, powder, setting, everything. Glossier's approach is seeing your skin, seeing your pores, seeing your freckles and not feeling like you have to cover all of that." Chung adds that this application style is part of the no-makeup-makeup look and an increasing demand for multitasking products that are easy to use. "It's expressing your individuality again, and that's what makeup is supposed to be about," Chung says.

While not every product has been universally lauded - with its petrolatum base, the cult-favourite Balm Dotcom is sometimes compared to Vaseline, while at launch time the Perfecting Skin Tint was criticized for its limited shade range (which has since been expanded) - the buzz around the Glossier brand is untouchable, its signature pink tubes finding fans in celebrities like Karlie Kloss, Emily Ratajkowski and Emma Roberts, and on Instagram, where more than 100,000 posts have been tagged #glossier. Weiss herself has become a poster child for business innovation in the digital era, earning accolades from and landing on covers of the likes of Fortune, Entrepreneur and Forbes magazines.

With 26 skincare, makeup and body products under her belt, Weiss launched Glossier You, the brand's first fragrance in October. It was developed with perfumers Frank Voelkl and Dora Baghriche, the noses behind Le Labo's Santal 33 and Yves Saint Laurent's Mon Paris, among other scents.

Weiss describes the eau de parfum as the ultimate personal fragrance. "It adapts to your skin in such a way that it becomes your own. It's this sort of ambrox, light florally musk that is seasonless and ageless."

Fragrance is the most intimate product in the beauty category and it's fitting that Weiss, whose mission is to develop every woman's unique beauty thumbprint, has dreamt up a scent where the wearer is the key ingredient.

It's all part of her overarching goal of spreading a message of positivity, she says: "There's a lot of unrealistic standards and ideals that deny reality, that deny the beauty of the moment and the beauty of imperfection. I want people to realize there's no right or wrong in beauty."

Associated Graphic


Paint with all the colours of the spring
Uttar Pradesh's Holi festivities mark the arrival of a new season with a splash, a puff of powder and a sprinkling of flowers
Special to The Globe and Mail
Tuesday, November 14, 2017 – Print Edition, Page L3

VRINDAVAN, INDIA -- There's a skirmish at the centre of Bankey Bihari, a Hindu temple dedicated to Lord Krishna in this sacred city. Incongruous, given the spiritual nature of the place. But it's Holi festival, the room is heaving with hundreds of paint-hurling devotees and my large presence (physical, not divine) has clearly irked some people.

An agitated worshipper tries to rip my camera from my hands; I'm surrounded by shouting men and shoved toward the door. A smiling Samaritan intervenes and, one by one, the aggrieved individuals meld into the multitude. The peacemaker follows, then turns back. "Happy Holi," he says, smearing wet paint on my face. "Now go."

Holi - also known as the "festival of colours" or "festival of love" - is a Hindu celebration that marks the arrival of spring. Its religious significance varies by region throughout the subcontinent, and is primarily about relaxing social codes, meeting others and having a good time.

Here in the northern state of Uttar Pradesh, where Krishna is believed to have been born, legend has it the young, mischievous, dark-skinned lad - jealous of his consort Radha's fair complexion - complained to his mother about the injustice. To placate him, she suggested he paint Radha's face whatever colour he desired.

He did and people have been painting towns and one another red ever since. Green, orange, yellow, purple and pink, too.

It's mostly good spirits but, for some, cutting loose means quaffing bhang (the base of a drink made with cannabis, milk, ghee and spices). Whisky, too. And as with any large gathering featuring the odd roving gang of inebriated males, problems can arise, particularly later in the day.

There's a scuffle next to a parked tuk-tuk on a busy street in Mathura.

It's the day after temple toss and I'm trying to get back to my hotel in Vrindavan, 13 kilometres away. My driver doesn't know my destination but, no matter, his tuk-tuk is kaput.

We've only travelled a few blocks and I've already paid him 100 rupees (about $2 Canadian) for his trouble, so I'd like to be on my way. But some celebrants cluster, the drunkest seizing my arm and - while it's possible it might be a prop to keep him upright - he's also shouting. In fact, everybody is - in Hindi.

I finally figure out what they want: another 100 rupees.

I'd started the day early with a brisk tuk-tuk ride in the dark from Vrindavan, arriving in Mathura in time to see the holy city's ghats at sunrise from a boat on the Yamuna River, before downing a cup of chai and walking over to Dwarkadhish Temple for Holi festivities.

I needn't have bothered - it's more fun on the streets.

More welcoming than Bankey, (though Vrindavan's streets were a hoot), I spent the next several hours getting doused with paint in every form: powder, paste, spray foam and the occasional full bucket of watercolour hurled from windows and rooftops lining the street.

Eventually, I made my way back to a main street and hailed that ill-fated tuk-tuk. Sure, I was 200 rupees poorer, but there's never a shortage of tuk-tuks in India, and I was soon en route to my hotel.

All told, the 13-kilometre journey took two hours.

That evening I booked a taxi for the next morning's 35-kilometre ride to Dauji Temple.

It broke down less than two kilometres from my hotel. But, after staring at the engine for a few minutes, the apologetic driver called for backup and, within 45 minutes, I was on my way in another vehicle.

I still arrive an hour before things get going, but Holi here is popular and all the best elevated vantage points have already been secured by dozens of long-lens-camera-toting tourists and credentialed media. I shell out 500 rupees (about $10) for a less-than-ideal sliver of real estate - but bodies are squeezing me on all sides. It's uncomfortable and I won't last long.

The oversized shower heads surrounding the open-air floor spring to life, paint cannons spew red paint, young boys fling flowers from the temple's roof.

I snap a few shots with my camera, but it feels as if we're watching a raging house party through a peephole in the attic.

"Are we allowed down on the floor?" I ask an Indian photographer.

"Yes, but it's risky," he says.

There's a woman whipping me with a wet towel. It's nothing personal - all the men are being lashed.

This is Huranga - a playful tradition that goes back more than 500 years.

Men drench women with buckets of coloured water; women strip and beat the men.

Water, paint, flowers and bodies are flying. Glitter, too. Trains of halfnaked men are marching in circles.

My shirt is partly torn off. The perpetrator's veil doesn't conceal her giggle. Several more sari-clad women flog me with gusto.

The whole thing leaves a mark.

The paint washes off, eventually, but the colour seeps into the bones. I elbow my way to the front of the temple but, once outside, can't find my sandals among the hundreds left at the gates.

Suddenly, the crush of people parts and a smiling boy appears with my flip-flops in hand.

For 50 rupees, the Holi spirit had saved my soles.



Holi is celebrated throughout the Indian subcontinent. Because it's determined by the lunar cycle, the date changes yearly. (In 2018, it's March 2; in 2019, it's March 21.)

In the Braj region (Vrindavan/ Mathura), festivities can go on for more than a week. Always verify dates before you go; talk to people on the ground about times etc. They change often.

Holi at Bankey Bihari Temple (Vrindavan): Takes place the day (morning) before Holi proper.

Mostly men. Somewhat aggressive but an experience nonetheless. The mood is lighter on the streets of the town, but temple is the celebratory centre.

Holi at Dwarkadhish Temple (Mathura): Starts in the morning.

The streets outside temple are jammed by 10 a.m. and stay that way past noon. Lots of tourists and families. Much more playful and welcoming than Bankey Bihari.

Huranga at Dauji Temple (Dauji): Starts late-morning. Arrive a couple of hours early to get prime, elevated seating (you'll have to pay). Or brave the floor - it's worth the risk.

There's also a Holi procession in Mathura the day before Holi, and Holika Dahan (the burning of the effigy of Holika) lights up the town that same evening.


Arrive early, leave early. The later it gets, the more rowdy crowds get. Travellers, particularly solo women, should exercise caution.

Wear the same clothes for playing Holi. Toss them in the trash afterward. Paint comes off skin with a good scrubbing. Wear a bandana or hat to protect hair.

Sunglasses are an option; a must for kids. Protect your camera with a good rain cover or waterproof housing.

Associated Graphic

For Graeme McRanor, who took part in a seasonal celebration in India's northern state of Uttar Pradesh, the paint from the 'festival of colours' eventually washed off, but the experience left a mark all its own.


A decade after the birth of the modern superhero-film era, Hollywood ponders how much milk is left in the cash cow
Friday, November 17, 2017 – Print Edition, Page R1

This past Monday morning, a few hours before North American film critics were exposed to the superhero spectacle that is Justice League, the Hollywood Reporter broke a story whose headline contained a string of words that, were they published at any other moment in history, would baffle the casual moviegoer: "Spider-Man Spinoff: Morbius the Living Vampire movie in the works with Power Rangers writers."

Desperate to keep spinning profits out of a complicated web of licensing, Sony Pictures has reached into the deepest vaults of its Spider-Man intellectual property, the D-level character Morbius being only the latest attempt at a cash-grab (the studio previously announced films based on Spidey enemy Venom and acquaintances Silver Sable and Black Cat). So long as a movie is vaguely familiar and contains a trace of a beloved icon, the thinking inside Sony goes, audiences will come. The studio's not wrong.

For those keeping count, the Morbius film (suggested title: Morbius: You Know, the Vampire Who Runs Into Spider-Man Every Now and Then) pushes the current number of in-development superhero films up to more than two dozen. And this doesn't take into account projects outside the familiar sandboxes of Marvel (owned by Disney) and DC (owned by Warner Bros.), because this newspaper column is only supposed to be about 1,000 words and no one wants to be here all day.

When it opens next year, Aquaman - the already practically shot Justice League spinoff - will mark a full decade since the birth of the modern superhero-cinema era.

It was in the summer of 2008 that Jon Favreau's Iron Man ushered in the concept of multifilm universes, in which one blockbuster acts as merely a bridge to another. It was the moment a seemingly ludicrous idea - do adult audiences care about characters made for children, and even then, would they care enough to follow their storylines across a dozen different films? - turned into the dominant product of the motion-picture industry.

Since the arrival of Robert Downey Jr.'s Tony Stark through to this week's Justice League premiere, moviegoers have been gifted 29 superhero blockbusters (16 Avengers-related films, four run-ups to Justice League, two of Christopher Nolan's Batman films, six X-Men adventures). By 2017's end, five of the year's top 10 highest-grossing films will be of the superhero variety (Wonder Woman, Guardians of the Galaxy Vol. 2, SpiderMan: Homecoming, Logan and Thor: Ragnarok) - possibly six, if Justice League performs as well as Warner hopes.

But it's not just about the money (although, yeah, it is mostly about the money): Critical respect for superhero cinema has never been higher. Although the dark and choppy Justice League might be a tougher sell, all the aforementioned 2017 titles rate "fresh" on all-powerful review aggregator Rotten Tomatoes, with every one but GotGV2 (sorry, Groot) sitting among the top 10 films of the year.

It would be easy - and fun! - to resort to the obvious line: Audiences are getting dumber. But that's reductive. What this year's superhero films reveal, even Justice League in its own misguided way, is that studios are getting smarter.

When Warner decided to build its DC movie universe around the creative vision of Zack Snyder, using 2013's Man of Steel as a starting point, discerning audiences were wary.

After that film culminated in a clumsy and abhorrent massacre scene, a legion of comics fans, and anyone with a modicum of good taste, were ready to burn Warner to the ground.

Yet, the studio persisted, giving us Snyder's somehow worse sequel, Batman v Superman: Dawn of Justice, and the is-this-really-a-movie spinoff, Suicide Squad (directed by David Ayer, but with Snyder's aesthetic coded into its DNA).

The films performed well enough financially, but earned little of the same affection critics increasingly bestowed upon Marvel's slate. Warner's DC films were dark and humourless. The plots were nonsensical, even by superhero standards.

The characters were just plain ol' jerks. Justice League, Snyder's next project and Warner's answer to Disney's Avengers behemoth, needed to be an unqualified success - and to adhere to the lessons the Marvel Cinematic Universe offered, or at least half-heartedly crib the answers to the lessons the MCU offered. Miraculously, Warner listened, relented and pivoted. Sort of.

Owing to a family tragedy, Snyder stepped away from Justice League this past May, and DC brought in Joss Whedon, who wrote and directed the first two Avengers films for Marvel, to finish the job. Although the film was already in postproduction, 15 per cent to 20 per cent of the finished product is the result of Whedon's reshoots. According to a rash of reports from Hollywood's trade magazines, the new iteration was torqued to be funnier, warmer and brighter. It would also be tighter, at just two hours (a short film compared with most superhero epics), reportedly at the direct request of Warner CEO Kevin Tsujihara. It would, basically, give audiences what they wanted.

Did the rethink work? Well, mostly - in that you can watch Justice League without having to dry heave, a compliment that couldn't be paid to its franchise precursors. It's also occasionally funny! It has likable characters! It is by no means good, and its plot doesn't make a lick of sense, but it shows that a giant studio can smarten up, a little bit, when prodded.

This strategy of audience appeasement may seem obvious, but Warner isn't the only studio to arrive at such wisdom this late in the game. Disney took its sweet time tinkering with the Hulk. It mishandled Thor for two films before realizing audiences valued wit just as much as warfare. It has taken 17 films (!) to embrace diversity, with the forthcoming Black Panther. Twentieth Century Fox, which owns the X-Men rights, only recently realized that its comic-book movies could be edgy or, more accurately, edgy-esque (Deadpool, Logan).

The challenge now - not just for Warner post-Justice League, but for every producer intent on milking this cash-cow - will be how much pivoting the industry can execute and endure before audiences grow tired and move on to the next thing.

Steven Spielberg has compared the superhero boom to the western, predicting that a genre demise is inevitable.

Others posit that its future might look something like the musical, where there are only one or two big extravaganzas a year. Yet, those theories seem rooted in the past, and fundamentally underestimate how critical the superhero genre is to a modern studio's bottom line.

As the theatrical market continues to struggle in its bid to get butts into seats, the promise of spectacle will likely be the only thing that draws audiences away from their comfortable couches and the streaming services that satiate them, 24 hours a day, for a fraction of the cost. Who will provide that spectacle?

Well, the glorious men and women expert in strapping on spandex, blowing up buildings, vanquishing CGI demigods - and, possibly, battling someone named Morbius, the Living Vampire.

Associated Graphic

Since the arrival of Robert Downey Jr.'s Tony Stark, seen above in 2008's Iron Man, through to this week's Justice League premiere, moviegoers have been gifted 29 superhero blockbusters - but the genre may have hit its peak.

The niqab: women stand by their choice
Quebec's Bill 62 mandating removal of face veils in some public spaces seen as affront to civil liberty, infringement on love for Islam
Saturday, October 28, 2017 – Print Edition, Page A5

MONTREAL -- They have been shoved, spat on and told to return to their country more times than they can remember. Because they are covered from head to toe, they have been mockingly called "Ninja."

That one, they find funny.

The three women all wear the face-covering niqab. And they have been drawn into the epicentre of the debate over Bill 62, the new Quebec law requiring people to show their faces to obtain public services.

The legislation's rollout has been so shrouded in confusion that no one knows precisely how it will apply. Yet, the women fear they will pay the price for the law. They decided to speak out, worried that women such as themselves will bear the brunt of Bill 62.

The three are confident and wellspoken, busy raising children and driving to the mall. All insist they are not victims, not submissive and not the instruments of their husbands' will.

"People are trying to liberate us, but they're doing the opposite when they're telling us what to do," said Asma Ahmad, 30, who moved to Canada from the United Arab Emirates a decade ago. "Nobody is forcing us to cover ourselves, but this law is forcing us to uncover ourselves."

They met a reporter at one of the women's homes in Montreal's suburban West Island this week, on a street of tidy single-family homes and driveways with vans. They uncovered their faces to a female reporter; they cover up again when they step beyond the door. The women understand that hiding one's face in public makes people feel uncomfortable. They are used to stares and muttered insults.

"I don't mind. If you see anything for the first time, you can be shocked," said Ms. Ahmad, who has worn the veil since age 15, an act of religious conviction and modesty.

"I believe the face is the most attractive part of the body," Ms. Ahmad said by way of explaining why she covers hers. "I'm not getting judged by my looks, by my makeup, or how beautiful I am."

Saima Sajid, a 31-year-old Concordia University graduate, began wearing the niqab as a teenager in Montreal. "I was raised to believe that as a confident individual I can make my own choices, no less than a man," she said.

"My love of Islam made me feel I wanted to take the extra step," Ms. Sajid said. "If you tell me to take my niqab off my face I would feel like I'm walking naked down the street."

Now, the veil is part of her identity. "If you can choose to wear a bikini, why can't I cover myself?

Feminists should support women and the choices they make. Youngsters are so worried about their body images. I don't have to worry about that."

No one knows exactly how many women wear the niqab in Quebec.

Estimates vary from 50 to more than 100; one can spend a year in Montreal and perhaps cross the path of one or two. But to hear the debate over Bill 62, one would imagine the veils are everywhere. They have become a flashpoint in the debate over identity, religious accommodations and Quebec's attachment to secular values.

To some in Quebec, the veils evoke the domination of the Catholic Church and represent a threat to the legacy of the Quiet Revolution of the 1960s. Others see the veil as a symbol of oppression - what the head of the Quebec Council on the Status of Women once called a "retrograde cultural practice that signifies women are inferior to men."

Some critics also say wearing the veil stems more from tribal practice than Islamic teachings.

"It's a prison for women," said Nadia El-Mabrouk, a Tunisian-born professor at the University of Montreal who belongs to a pro-secularism group. "It's incredible that it's being defended. It's not religious. It's the oppression of women, the erasing of women from the public space."

Yet, research shows that most women who wear the niqab in Canada arrive at the choice themselves - as an expression of their Muslim identity, as a spiritual awakening, or as a personal challenge. They often do so despite the disapproval of loved ones and the larger Muslim community.

"The women do it entirely for their own reasons, and certainly against the will of the community," said Lynda Clarke, a specialist of religion and Islam at Montreal's Concordia University and author of a 2013 study on women who wear the niqab in Canada. "They're not following any authority, and are almost always acting against the will of family and sometimes their husband."

It's still unclear under Bill 62 exactly where or when anyone will be told to unveil. The three women say they are already accustomed to removing their veils for security purposes at the airport, licence bureau and other places where needed.

They fear the law's real impact will be to embolden those who already harbour anti-Muslim feelings.

"It's going to justify some people to say: We didn't like the niqab before, and now the government is on our side," said Ms. Sajid, who arrived in Canada from Pakistan when she was six months old. "It's going to encourage more hate."

The women, with their young children, worry about placing themselves at risk. They worry the law will isolate them and others like them.

One of the three has already had the experience first-hand. Seven years ago, Mahvish Ahmad was attending a government French class in her face veil, eager to learn the language of Quebec after emigrating from India. One day, two Quebec government officials turned up and Ms. Ahmad was told she'd have to either unveil or leave. At the time, Quebec's then-Liberal government was taking a hardening stance on the wearing of religious displays when using public services.

Ms. Ahmad felt she could not remove her niqab. The woman, who says she had been appreciated by her classmates and described as a model student, left the community centre in tears.

She never returned to school. She never learned French.

"I was so traumatized, my selfconfidence was shattered," says Ms. Ahmad, now 33. "It was just a shock."

Quebec's Justice Minister says that under the new law, a person will also have to uncover her face in classrooms for the purposes of communication with the teacher. Ms. Ahmad wonders whether more women like her will stay home.

"You can't judge me just by my looks and what I'm wearing. You have to judge me on the person I am and how I'm being loyal to this country and its people," she says.

"We're not harming anyone. We're not a threat. It's wrong to judge people on their looks, their colour or the clothes they wear."

Rarely has a piece of clothing worn by so few inflamed passions among so many. From behind their veils, the women just ask people to try to understand them.

Associated Graphic

From left: Asma Ahmad, Saima Sajid and Mahvish Ahmad say they have heard snide comments about their niqabs. 'If you can choose to wear a bikini, why can't I cover myself?' Ms. Sajid asks.


Casa Loma's BlueBlood revitalization
The new high-end steakhouse offers a dining experience its owners hope both tourists and Torontonians can appreciate
Special to The Globe and Mail
Saturday, November 18, 2017 – Print Edition, Page M6

Visiting Casa Loma, the venerable Gothic revivalist landmark that straddles the border of Toronto's downtown and midtown like a looming grey-brick sentinel, its 6,000 square metres were abuzz with activity on a chilly fall evening.

The southwest garden entrance attracts a cluster of teenagers waiting for the gates to open on the Legends Of Horror haunted house attraction, while the main entrance hosts groups entering or exiting one of the property's three "escape room" attractions. Amid the confusion of so many doors leading to so many different live-action puzzle boxes and chambers of horror, and the general anxiety of darkening the doorstep of an enormous castle, a valet parking attendant in a tuque proves helpful, asking, "Here for the steakhouse?" The steakhouse is BlueBlood, a newly opened upscale dining establishment inside Casa Loma that attempts to make a virtue of its garish opulence. As a restaurant concept, BlueBlood is bizarre, confounding, sometimes even a bit annoying. But it's a project years in the making.

In 2014, the City of Toronto awarded a 20-year lease to Liberty Entertainment Group to take over operations of Casa Loma. At the time, says Liberty president Nick Di Donato, Casa Loma was hemorrhaging around $1-million annually. It was still a go-to attraction for tourists and elementary-school trips, but failed to address what Mr. Di Donato calls the "uncaptured market of Torontonians."

"The castle is quite the iconic city property," Mr. Di Donato explains.

"For a while, it fell into the abyss, not being recognized and being an old, tired facility. One of our objectives, and the city's objectives, was to make it one of the city's most prolific sites, and one that's appreciated not only by tourists, but also Torontonians."

A high-end restaurant was part of Liberty's original proposal to the city. And now, well, here it is.

It's tough sledding for fine-dining establishments across Canada. Since the economic downturn of 2008, diners have been drawn away from full-service dining, according to market research gathered by the NPD Group.

The refining of casual dining and the boom in third-party delivery services such as UberEats has challenged traditional sit-down dining.

The key to growth, NPD industry expert Robert Carter says, is distinction.

"There's so many brands that are so similar," he says. "You walk into a Boston Pizza or a Kelsey's and they all have three dinner salads and four different entrees. Sometimes you don't even know which one you're in."

BlueBlood doesn't have that problem. The place is all distinction.

"They're carving out a niche in a very specific way," Mr. Carter observes. "They need to have a strong point of difference between themselves and, for example, The Keg.

When consumers go there, they're going to have an experience." In a city where fancier dining options trend more toward intimate restaurants along Dundas West, Ossington and cramped alleys of Kensington Market, Liberty invested in something big and bold enough to befit the property. "Fine dining and high-level dining is resurgent," Mr. Di Donato says. "It's not only about small, 30-seat restaurants. It's about the whole experience. People want a little more than what's on their plate. They want a sense of aesthetics. The castle really lends itself to that."

Renovated at a cost of $3-million, it's a place where you can wash down a $250 tasting flight of thoroughly marbled Japanese Wagyu steaks with a $500 Old Fashioned made with Rémy Martin Louis XIII Grande Champagne Cognac (which retails in Canada for around $3,300 per gilded 700ml bottle), while sitting under a cartoony Warhol pop art portrait of Wayne Gretzky. Not a Warhol knockoff or print, mind you.

But an actual Warhol.

This clash of old and new - the very "concept" of the restaurant, such as it is - serves an inverted heritage function. As Mr. Di Donato explains: "That's just a direction we needed to take to ensure that the heritage value of the property was respected. People would realize what we had done in terms of changes.

"So there's not a false impression that our chandeliers are the original chandeliers in Casa Loma. Any additions are very distinctly interpreted as additions, as opposed to suggesting that it actually looked like this.

It's very important, from a heritage perspective, to do this."

The contrast of aesthetics, however deliberate, feels more like a clash, adding to the overwhelming dissonance one feels eating there.

There's a reason those great steakhouses err toward a stuffy orthodoxy. Their traditionalist, even conservative, atmosphere places them outside fickle food trends.

They are, in a meaningful way, timeless.

BlueBlood seems to want to square this timelessness with the fickler trend toward ironic dining. Following a particularly lacerating New York Times review of Guy Fieri's American Kitchen and Bar, Bloomberg noted an uptick in patronage to the Food Network superstar's gaudy Times Square eatery. They called it an "ironic dining Mecca," which drew in not just the usual crowd of half-confused tourists, but honestto-god locals, curious at just how abrasive the whole dining experience could possibly be. While BlueBlood's cuisine is no doubt elevated above Mr. Fieri's menu of Motley Que Ribs and Volcano Chicken entrees, the decor is similarly flashy - albeit in a winking, knowing way.

Even the name, BlueBlood, suggests highfalutin nobility in a way that's sly, as if it's meant to alleviate something of the starch of fine dining by making it seem cheeky and kitsch.

Celebrity chefs such as Momofuku's David Chang, or David McMillan and Frédéric Morin of Joe Beef have staked out similar territory a bit more successfully. In the case of Chang's famous fried chicken and caviar and Joe Beef's KFC-styled foie gras sandwich, the food itself - and not just the ambience - feels playful and unstuffy.

More than anything, BlueBlood seems to embody Liberty Entertainment Group's vision of a revitalized Toronto, one in which restaurants (and restaurant concepts) drive tourism and global renown.

"Toronto has been a beta city for many years," Mr. Di Donato says.

BlueBlood's sprawling, 130-seat dining room feels like a rather obvious "world class" play: The steakhouse as burly alpha dog, radiating dominance and ostentation over elegance. Still, in the social-media age, its abundance of aesthetic extravagance may be enough to distinguish BlueBlood. It was certainly enough to entice Drake, who deemed it a suitable venue for a highly Instagrammable 31st birthday party last month.

Associated Graphic

In 2014, Liberty Entertainment Group was awarded a 20-year lease to take over operations of Casa Loma. One of the objectives of the newly opened restaurant, BlueBlood, pictured on Nov. 9, is to make the heritage site one of the city's most prolific.


Nick Di Donato, Liberty president, says diners are not only interested in the food, but the whole experience - and the castle offers just that.

BlueBlood seems to embody Liberty's vision of a revitalized Toronto, one in which restaurants drive tourism and global renown.

At BlueBlood, you can wash down a $250 tasting flight of thoroughly marbled Japanese Wagyu steaks with a $500 Old Fashioned.

Guitarist was a driving force behind AC/DC
Band member was known for his 'jackhammer riffing' on albums such as Back in Black, the world's second-bestselling album
Associated Press
Monday, November 20, 2017 – Print Edition, Page S8

Malcolm Young, the rhythm guitarist and guiding force behind the bawdy hard-rock band AC/DC who helped create such head-banging anthems as Highway to Hell, Hells Bells and Back in Black, has died. He was 64.

AC/DC announced the death Saturday on their official Facebook page and website. A representative for the band confirmed that the posts were true. The posts did not say when or where Mr. Young died, but said the performer had been suffering from dementia. He was diagnosed in 2014.

"It is with deepest sorrow that we inform you of the death of Malcolm Young, beloved husband, father, grandfather and brother. Malcolm had been suffering from Dementia for several years and passed away peacefully with his family by his bedside," one of the posts read.

The family put out a statement posted on the band's website calling Mr. Young a "visionary who inspired many."

While Mr. Young's younger brother, Angus, the group's school-uniform-wearing lead guitarist, was the public face of the band, Malcolm Young was its key writer and leader, the member the rest of the band watched for onstage changes and cutoffs.

AC/DC were remarkably consistent for over 40 years with its mix of driving hard rock, lusty lyrics and bluesy shuffles, selling more than 200 million albums, surviving the loss of its first singer and creating one of the greatest rock records ever in Back in Black, the world's second-bestselling album behind Michael Jackson's Thriller.

The Glasgow-born Young brothers - who moved to Sydney, Australia, with their parents, sister and five older brothers in 1963 - formed the band in 1973. They were inspired to choose the high-energy name AC/DC from the back of a sewing machine owned by their sister, Margaret.

Angus experimented with several different stage costumes at first - including a gorilla suit and a Zorro outfit - but the school uniform was a natural, since he was only 16 at the time.

The Youngs went through several drummers and bass guitarists, finally settling on Phil Rudd on drums in 1974 and Englishman Cliff Williams on bass three years later. Their original singer was fired after a few months when they discovered Bon Scott, who was originally hired as the band's driver.

By 1980, the band was on a roll, known for its high-energy performances and predictably hard-charging songs. Their album Highway To Hell was certified gold in the United States and made it into the top 25 Billboard album charts, and the single Touch Too Much became their first UK Top 30 hit. But on Feb. 18, 1980, everything changed - Mr. Scott died of asphyxiation after choking on his own vomit after an all-night drinking binge.

The band decided to keep going and hired English vocalist Brian Johnson at the helm. The newly reconfigured group channelled their grief into songwriting and put out 1980's Back In Black, with the songs You Shook Me All Night Long, Rock and Roll Ain't Noise Pollution and Hells Bells. The cover of the album was black, in honour of Mr. Scott's death.

The band continued with a studio or live album every few years, blending their huge guitar riffs with rebellious and often sophomoric lyrics - song titles include Big Balls, Beating Around the Bush, Let Me Put My Love Into You and Stiff Upper Lip. AC/DC won only a single Grammy Award, for best hard rock performance in 2009 for War Machine.

Rolling Stone said in 1980 that "the AC/DC sound is nothing more and nothing less than aggressively catchy song hooks brutalized by a revvedup boogie rhythm, Malcolm's jackhammer riffing, Angus' guitar histrionics and Johnson's bloodcurdling bawl."

In the book The Youngs: The Brothers Who Built AC/DC by Jesse Fink, Angus Young said the formula worked. "We've got the basic thing kids want," he said. "They want to rock and that's it. They want to be part of the band as a mass. When you hit a guitar chord, a lot of the kids in the audience are hitting it with you.

They're so much into the band they're going through all the motions with you. If you can get the mass to react as a whole, then that's the ideal thing. That's what a lot of bands lack, and why the critics are wrong."

AC/DC's infectious, driving sound stretched further than rock arenas.

The song Shoot to Thrill was heard in the film The Avengers, Back in Black made it into The Muppets, Dirty Deeds Done Dirt Cheap was played in Bridesmaids and their songs were included in the Iron Man franchise. On TV, the band's music was heard in everything from Top Gear, the Hawaii Five-0 reboot, Glee, CSI: Miami and The Voice.

Although the band championed good-natured hell-raising, it had to weather suggestions in the 1980s that they were a threat to the moral fabric of society. There were rumours the band's name stood for AntiChrist/Devil's Children and many were shocked when it was learned that serial murderer and rapist Richard Ramirez identified himself as a fan and left an AC/DC baseball cap behind at a crime scene.

In 2014, the band released Rock or Bust, the first AC/DC album without Malcolm Young. Even so, he is very present on the record since the 11 songs are credited to the Young brothers (Angus said he built the album from guitar hooks the two had accumulated over the years).

Around the album's release, Angus told the Associated Press that Malcolm was doing fine, but that he couldn't perform any more.

"It was progressing further, but he knew he couldn't do it," Angus Young said of his older brother's dementia. "He had continued as long as he could, still writing. But he said to me, 'Keep it going.' " The fate of the band was also put into doubt by the retirement of Mr.

Williams, legal trouble for Mr. Rudd and Mr. Johnson's hearing loss, which forced him to leave. The band enlisted Guns N' Roses frontman Axl Rose to sing on tour in 2016.

Several musicians paid their respects to Mr. Young on social media, writing about his influence and impact in music.

"It is a sad day in rock and roll. Malcolm Young was my friend and the heart and soul of AC/DC. I had some of the best times of my life with him on our 1984 European tour," Eddie Van Halen tweeted on Saturday. "He will be missed and my deepest condolences to his family, bandmates and friends."

"The driving engine of AC/DC has died. A tragic end for a sometimes unsung icon. One of the true greats.

RIP," Paul Stanley, of Kiss, wrote on Twitter.

To submit an I Remember: Send us a memory of someone we have recently profiled on the Obituaries page. Please include I Remember in the subject field.

Associated Graphic

AC/DC guitarist Malcolm Young, seen in New York in 2000, had recently been suffering from dementia; he was diagnosed in 2014. 'It is a sad day in rock and roll,' Eddie Van Halen tweeted on Saturday.


Giller Prize nominees and the art of storytelling
Monday, November 20, 2017 – Print Edition, Page L1


What do you hope readers will take away from your book?

I think any writer hopes they can give their reader a deeper knowledge of self and others.

What are you like to be around when you're writing?

Pretty maddening I should think, since two-thirds of the time I appear to have nothing to do. I hang around and complain of boredom and depression and interfere in everyone else's affairs and then suddenly I'm gone, like a horse that's bolted.

If you were not on the short list, who would you vote for and why?

I believe it wouldn't be polite to answer that question! These situations are something of a test of characters and since writing is not in essence competitive, the best way of dealing with it - for me at least - is to find the value particular to each book, rather than comparing them with one another.

What are you working on now?

A screenplay. My work has moved a long way away from conventional dialogue, so it's an interesting position to be in.

What's the weirdest book you read in the past year?

I've been reading a lot of Thomas Bernhard, who I suppose some people might find weird. His novel Woodcutters is such a strange creation, narrated by a man sitting by himself in a wing chair at a dismal bourgeois dinner party: It takes a marginal position in relation to human beings, and then performs the most annihilating moral condemnation of them.


What do you hope readers will take away from your book?

A sense of the awful mystery and beauty of our planet and our universe and a new appreciation for the miracle of central heating.

What are you like to be around when you're writing?

The best I can manage is a small degree of strained politeness. I don't think people should be around me when I am trying to write.

If you were not on the short list, who would you vote for and why?

That's a hospital pass. Next question.

What are you working on now?

One of those clever questionnaires that the literary media sends out to authors to drum up some content. I think this one is for The Globe and Mail. Apart from that, a newspaper piece, a book review and another novel.

What's the weirdest book you read in the past year?

Ayoade on Ayoade: A Cinematic Odyssey, by Richard Ayoade. A masterpiece of anti-autobiography. I highly recommend it.


What do you hope readers will take away from your book?

I hope my readers will come away from the book with a new take on the "real" world. Not to mention astonished and delighted.

What are you like to be around when you're writing?

I'm almost always alone when I'm writing, so I don't know! I'm easily distracted, though, and sometimes I seek distraction to see what might happen.

If you were not on the short list, who would you vote for and why?

Whoever was in my spot on the short list.

What are you working on now?

I'm revising my next novel, Mason of Tunica, coming from Doubleday Canada in 2019.

What's the weirdest book you read in the past year?

Pen Sketches of Historic Toronto - a weird Toronto drawn mostly from memory by J. Clarence Duff. One drawing reveals that in the late 19th century, the Grey and Bruce division of the Grand Trunk Railway displayed weather-forecast symbols on their trains as aids to farmers in their "plowing, seeding, cultivating and harvesting."


What do you hope readers will take away from your book?

I hope the reader takes away that my characters are just regular people trying to survive extraordinary circumstances.

What are you like to be around when you're writing?

Distracted. Half my brain is noodling around my fictional world while the other half is Mr. Magooing through the grocery store and coming back with a lot of crackers and hummus.

If you were not on the short list, who would you vote for and why?

I plead the fifth! Each of the shortlisted works is spectacular in its own way, in its own world. I don't envy the jury.

What are you working on now?

Finishing up the second draft of the sequel, Trickster Drift, and putzing around with the third novel in the Trickster series. I have a general idea of how to end the trilogy. I tell people to let their first drafts be messy, but I keep ignoring my own advice and cleaning it up, so it's going very slowly right now. I call that beginning-itis. Hopefully, the story will start to flow soon and I'll stop fussing.

What's the weirdest book you read in the past year?

Martin John, by Anakana Schofield.

Couldn't put it down, even though the narrator was someone I never thought I'd feel sympathetic toward.

The author does ridiculously clever things with perspective and structure.


What do you hope readers will take away from your book?

I hope the characters stick with them like people they've gotten to know.

What are you like to be around when you're writing?

While it's generally an impulse of anger or frustration that sends me to the computer to write, once I'm there, I like to listen to the soothing soundscape of the engine room of a submarine or Rick Deckard's apartment from Blade Runner (you can get these on YouTube), so I'm pretty blissful and focused - while also mad as heck.

If you were not on the short list, who would you vote for and why?

For the sake of the French-speaking, poetry-spouting fireflies, I'd have to say Eden Robinson's Son of a Trickster. The juxtaposition of the mundane with the magical in that book is just so uplifting. And such gorgeous writing.

What are you working on now?

I'm working on my next novel, which will take place along the Bay of Fundy. The range of possibilities - and character opportunities - when you're writing about the ocean is intoxicating. I also look forward to frolicking with marine terminology.

There's so much good stuff there.


What's the weirdest book you read in the past year?

I found myself a copy of The Strange Last Voyage of Donald Crowhurst, which is so effective, you almost become Crowhurst, on board the Teignmouth Electron, slowly losing your mind. At the same time, I was also doing a painting of a bear onboard the Teignmouth Electron.

When I think back, I feel like I spent 2017 on that boat.

The winner of the 2017 Scotiabank Giller Prize will be announced at a gala Toronto ceremony on Monday, to be broadcast live by CBC Television and live-streamed on, starting at 8 p.m. ET.

CBC Radio One will also be airing a broadcast special at 8 p.m. ET.

End of Mugabe's 37-year rule opens door to freedom The Globe and Mail's Geoffrey York is Canada's only full-time Africa correspondent. Hours after a smooth and almost bloodless takeover by the military, he describes the optimism felt among the people - most of whom have known only one leader for their entire lives
Thursday, November 16, 2017 – Print Edition, Page A1

HARARE -- Robert Mugabe's decline and fall, when it finally came, was stunning in its swiftness.

For 37 years, he had been the undisputed ruler of Zimbabwe. And then, on Wednesday, he was abruptly confined to his home, under military guard, his era almost certainly over.

The power of the Zimbabwean President, according to most assumptions, had been total and complete. Yet, in the end, his authority crumbled like a house of cards. His supporters abandoned him. He remained the President, but in name only.

There were still questions in Zimbabwe on Wednesday, but they were mere details.

It was unclear whether Mr. Mugabe would remain as a figurehead in Zimbabwe, or whether he and his family would seek refuge in a foreign country, perhaps Singapore or Malaysia where he has spent many months for medical treatment in recent years.

The military takeover was astonishingly smooth and almost entirely bloodless. A few gunshots, a couple of explosions, a few arrests, and the Mugabe faction within the ruling party was essentially finished. It didn't mean a victory by the opposition parties - since power is still controlled by authoritarian military officers - but there was at least a possibility that Zimbabwe's government could move into the modern age.

South African President Jacob Zuma, who spoke to Mr. Mugabe on Wednesday, confirmed that the Zimbabwean President was "confined to his home." Mr. Zuma said he would be sending two senior envoys to meet Mr. Mugabe and the military, but his statement made no attempt to criticize the military takeover - an early indication that Zimbabwe's neighbours are likely to accept Mr. Mugabe's forced demise, as long as the military promises it will eventually restore civilian rule.

The Zimbabwean military needed only a few armoured vehicles to secure the streets of the capital, Harare, because there were no crowds of Mugabe loyalists to suppress. Instead, there was a mood of guarded optimism on Wednesday, a rare sense of hope among most Zimbabweans. After years of economic disaster and impoverishment, even a military takeover was seen as a potential boon.

"What the soldiers did was very good - they are averting a disaster," said Dougmore Matema, a taxi driver who was sitting idle on the streets on Wednesday. "There was going to be civil unrest. The situation was ripe for unrest."

Another motorist honked his horn and applauded loudly when he saw two soldiers passing by him on the street. "You're our heroes," he shouted. "You're the best. You brought us freedom. You deserve our applause."

By Wednesday night, the military presence in Harare was remarkably light. A drive through the centre of the city found only a few armoured vehicles and a handful of idle soldiers, barely visible in the darkness. Only half a dozen soldiers were casually checking the vehicles that entered Harare's international airport, while ignoring those that drove out of the airport.

But crucially, the police were gone. The normal police checkpoints in Harare had vanished. Motorists could cruise through the streets unmolested by demands for bribes.

Even the ubiquitous Central Intelligence Organisation (CIO), the secret police, had retreated.

One witness described how the military had rounded up the police and CIO guards at Zimbabwe's parliament, forcing them into a submissive queue under military guard.

The disappearance of the police and intelligence agents was highly significant, since they were the main weapons of the Mugabe faction - the coterie within the ruling ZANU-PF party that was headed by the Mugabe family, including his wife, Grace, and their loyalists.

Ms. Mugabe has been verbally assailing Zimbabwe's military leaders for months. She also launched a bitter campaign against the politician who was closest to the military: the senior vice-president, Emmerson Mnangagwa.

That campaign seemed to be victorious last week when Mr. Mugabe announced the dismissal of Mr. Mnangagwa. But victory may have fumbled through the fingers of the Mugabe faction when it failed to arrest the former vicepresident. He slipped out of the country, remained elusive and apparently succeeded in mobilizing the top military commanders to take action against the Mugabe family. Many Zimbabweans now expect him to return to a senior position in a transitional government.

The army commander, General Constantino Chiwenga, had warned on Monday that the military was prepared to intervene. He vowed to take "corrective measures" against the "treacherous shenanigans" of those who were "purging" the government.

His words seemed to be aimed especially at Ms. Mugabe and her ambitious circle of loyalists in the government. The military has been unhappy at the prospect that she could be positioning herself to succeed her 93-year-old husband, who has been visibly weak and ailing over the past year.

Zimbabweans are increasingly resentful of the rising power of Ms. Mugabe, who is 41 years younger than her husband and is widely loathed for her lavish lifestyle, her expensive spending habits (including recently a diamond ring worth $1.35-million [U.S.]), and her furious volleys of insults against her rivals.

A senior military official, Major-General Sibusiso Moyo, gave a televised address to the country in full camouflage uniform from a studio at the state broadcaster. He said Mr. Mugabe and his family were "safe and sound" and their security was guaranteed.

"We are only targeting criminals around him who are committing crimes that are causing social and economic suffering in the country, in order to bring them to justice," he said.

"As soon as we have accomplished our mission, we expect that the situation will return to normalcy."

He denied it was a military coup. "What the Zimbabwe Defence Forces is actually doing is to pacify a degenerating political, social and economic situation in our country, which if not addressed may result in a violent conflict."

In reality, there was little doubt that the military action was a coup. But it still brought a spark of hope. "In this country, we are free now," said Pindai Dube, a local journalist. "We have suffered for a long time, but this is the New Zimbabwe."

Obert Gutu, a spokesman for the main opposition party, the Movement for Democratic Change, said he was impressed by the bloodless nature of the military intervention. People are anxious about the crisis, but they remain committed to non-violence, he said. "There's calm, there's peace, there's no looting," he told The Globe and Mail on Wednesday night.

"In Africa, normally there are dead bodies littering the streets after a coup, but there's nothing like that here in Zimbabwe. It's very unique. Zimbabweans are among the most tolerant people."

Most Zimbabweans have known only one leader - Mr. Mugabe - for their entire lives, Mr. Gutu noted. "If the Mugabe era is over, it's very good news for the people. A post-Mugabe era gives a lot of hope to the people."

Associated Graphic

For the residents of Harare, the military presence is a welcome sight. Gone are the police, who were the main weapons of the Mugabe faction.


The military takeover in Harare is seen as a potential boon after years of economic disaster and impoverishment. Civilians applaud the move and praise the soldiers who are bringing them 'freedom.'


Prints charming
Set to launch both a women's and men's collection for H&M in November, Canadian designer Erdem Moralioglu's luxe creative vision finds a new audience
Special to The Globe and Mail
Saturday, October 28, 2017 – Print Edition, Page L4

As one of our country's most revered fashion exports, Montrealborn, London-based designer Erdem Moralioglu began making his mark in 2005 when he launched his debut collection. Twelve years later, he's garnered an impressive celebrity clientele, from the Duchess of Cambridge to actor Nicole Kidman, and regularly turns heads on the red carpet with his signature prints and luxurious fabrications.

On Nov. 2, the awareness of his brand will be catapulted to new heights as he launches a capsule collection for H&M.

Now, a younger generation (and those with less luxurious budgets) will be able to indulge in his rich, romantic vision.

I spoke with Moralioglu from his London studio recently about this collaboration, his foray into men's wear, and his unbridled passion for designing.

What kind of joy did this particular collaboration with H&M bring you?

When I was encouraged to create a collection for them, I was totally flattered. To follow in the footsteps of Alber [Elbaz], Karl Lagerfeld and Rei Kawakubo just felt like an extraordinary opportunity. Also, for them to work with someone who's not so well-known...well, it was interesting of them, considering that their last collaboration was with Kenzo. The opportunity to create a men's collection felt really exciting. So there were lots of reasons why it felt right. Also the idea of being able to create something that was completely democratic in a sense, that so many people will be able to buy and wear... And I love the idea that people who might not even know who I am will buy it, wear it and absorb it into their lives. I fi nd that so exciting.

H&M has some strong messaging now, talking to that young generation who are increasingly concerned with the environment, including their clothing drop-off program. How do you feel about their environmental concerns? It's really important, and it's important to me. They're the largest consumer of organic cotton in the world, and that in itself is extraordinary. For me, it was really important to have them collaborate with mills that I worked with, like Harris Tweed, and smaller Italian mills. It was amazing to get them to work with people that I worked with in smaller mills up in Scotland.

The question of sourcing, how things are made - all of those things were something that were very important to me on every level.

You've done a little men's collection for H&M, too. Was this a bit of an experiment for you? Might we see more men's wear from you soon?

Maybe. For me, it was an absolute pleasure to design the men's collection. I would fi nd myself in fittings and trying things on myself. I remember I was fitting a tweed suit in the men's collection and I took it off the fit model and put it on a female fit model, and how that suit hung on her was so inspiring. So then as a result, I designed a beautiful tweed suit for women. The opposite also happened: There was a kind of a hoodie that I designed for women. I tried it on our male fit model and then decided to do a hoodie for him. One affected the other and that kind of bouncing off of each other was very interesting.

Early on in your career you worked with strong women like Vivienne Westwood and Diane Von Furstenberg.

What would you say you learned about fashion from Vivienne Westwood?

At Westwood, I was an intern. It was extraordinary to be in London and to be a student in that studio space, in her world.

Her sense of narrative, her sense of taking different time periods and revisiting them felt really interesting. At Westwood, there was a wonderful sense of bravery.

She had such a wonderful point of view.

What today keeps you in touch with women? Years ago, I asked [designer] Bill Blass about that. He seemed to really understand the way contemporary American women were living, and the kinds of things that they were after in their wardrobe because he hung out with a lot of them, like Babe Paley.

He went to all these parties and they entertained him. Do you feel compelled to have that kind of lifestyle, where you're really out there?

Not at all, Jeanne. I'm from the suburbs of Montreal and I couldn't be further from Bill Blass and Babe Paley if I tried! I live in East London, and my life is like a one-mile radius. I come to the studio and work and then I go home. I think what I've always had is this kind of a dream. My women in the world I've created come out of this idea of a dream. Then I figure out where it is that she's going. It's never been from that direct contact to my client. I do have more contact with her now though, since I opened up my store two years ago in Mayfair. That certainly has given me a further understanding as to who she is, what she does, what her needs are, and all those insights that are really interesting. But it's less of the idea of being so connected to this group of women. Those great old American designers were surrounded by their swans. I'm surrounded by rolls of fabric.

You propose these fantastic garments and prints, and you manage to seduce women so well - I just thought you must be in close touch with a whole bevy of women who are advising you.

I wonder if maybe it has something to do with that fact that I grew up with a twin sister, or that my mother was always very close to me. I was always very fortunate to be surrounded by women that were fiercely intelligent and very, very strong.

And from very, very early on, I always associated femininity with strength. It was always something that I loved. I was fascinated by women from a very early age but I was never afraid of the feminine. It was something that always intrigued me, but it was never something that I associated with a kind of a weakness. I found it fascinating and seductive and strong. I think that's something that always inspired me.

The last time I interviewed you, you told me you felt a kind of rootlessness.

There's such a strong spotlight on Canada right now on the world stage.

Is there a part of you that feels especially proud these days?

In all honesty, I've always been so proud of where I've been, where I'm from, and where I grew up. So that pride is very constant. But in this strange world right now, I think we are setting such a beautiful example. And that I'm very proud of.

This interview has been condensed and edited.

Associated Graphic

PATTERN MAKER Montreal Erdem Moralioglu is the latest designer to collaborate with H&M on a capsule collection. The collaboration gave him a chance to create men's wear for the first time.


Mugabe clings to power as impeachment looms
Monday, November 20, 2017 – Print Edition, Page A1

HARARE -- Despite mounting pressure from Zimbabwe's military and its ruling party, President Robert Mugabe has stunned the nation with a rambling and confusing speech that failed to include any mention of his resignation.

Tens of thousands of Zimbabweans mobbed the streets of Harare on the weekend in massive rallies to support the military takeover and to demand Mr. Mugabe's resignation.

On Sunday, he was sacked by the central committee of his ruling party.

Yet he remained defiant on Sunday night, clinging to the last vestiges of his power.

Mr. Mugabe, the only ruler Zimbabwe has known since its independence from white-minority rule in 1980, has brought his country into poverty and chaos over the past 37 years. After last week's military coup, he was widely expected to announce his resignation in a televised speech to the nation on Sunday night. But instead he made no mention of quitting.

Mr. Mugabe's speech seemed delusional. He insisted that the coup has not damaged his authority, and he said he will preside over a conference of the ruling party next month - even though the party's central committee has dismissed him as leader.

In his speech, flanked by senior military officers, Mr. Mugabe praised the army commanders and conceded that they were correct in their concerns about the ruling party and the government. He acknowledged that there was "victimization" and "cliques" in the ruling party. He admitted the government's "inattentiveness" to the economy, which was going through a "rough patch." But he did not announce the resignation that had been predicted by many media outlets just hours earlier.

The ruling ZANU-PF has given Mr. Mugabe a deadline of noon on Monday to announce his resignation as President. If he does not resign by then, he will face impeachment in Parliament as early as Tuesday.

Mr. Mugabe, 93, is the world's oldest president and the longest-ruling dictator in Africa. He came to power as a liberation leader after a guerrilla campaign against white-minority rule in the former Rhodesia, but quickly used his power to crush dissidents in a campaign that killed an estimated 20,000 people in the early 1980s. In recent decades, his regime has rigged elections, seized whiteowned farms, sent the economy into collapse and impoverished millions of people.

The new president is expected to be Emmerson Mnangagwa, a former vice-president and spy chief who was sacked by Mr. Mugabe two weeks ago.

In its meeting on Sunday, the central committee of the ruling party decided unanimously to dump Mr. Mugabe from its leadership. It also decided to appoint Mr. Mnangagwa as its new leader and its nominee to replace Mr. Mugabe as president. The committee wants the decision to be rubber-stamped by a full conference of the party in mid-December, but there is little doubt that the decisions are final.

Obert Mpofu, a cabinet minister who chaired the party meeting on Sunday, said the decision to dismiss Mr. Mugabe was a "historic moment" but a sad one.

"We meet here today with a heavy heart," Mr. Mpofu said. "He has been our leader for a long time, and we have all learned a lot from him."

He cited the huge crowds at the weekend rallies. "The people have spoken," he said.

The central committee also expelled Mr. Mugabe's widely disliked wife, Grace, from the party, along with 19 cabinet ministers and other party members who support her faction. The committee called them a "wicked cabal."

The committee members cheered noisily, whooped, danced and sang as they celebrated their decision to dismiss Mr. Mugabe from the party leadership. Some members made a "crocodile" gesture with their hands as they danced - a reference to their new party leader, Mr. Mnangagwa, who has been nicknamed "The Crocodile" since his days as a guerrilla fighter in the 1960s.

Mr. Mnangagwa has strong support from the party's biggest faction, which has been feuding with Ms. Mugabe's faction for years.

Analysts say he is likely to introduce economic reforms in a bid to attract international loans for the country. But he has a long history of using the military and secret police to crush dissent. In the 1980s, he was Mr. Mugabe's right-hand man in the bloody campaign to destroy dissidents in the Matabeleland region.

While the military and the ruling party continue manoeuvring to find ways to oust Mr. Mugabe from the presidency, the people of the country left no doubt of their hostility to him on Saturday.

For the first time in decades, Zimbabweans are free to say what they really think about Robert Mugabe.

And on Saturday, they seized the opportunity with wild enthusiasm, turning their capital city into an exuberant carnival of anti-Mugabe expression.

Tens of thousands of demonstrators, perhaps as many as 100,000 in total, filled the streets of Harare with a noisy celebration of Mr. Mugabe's demise. They danced, partied, drank, marched, cheered and sang. They even tried to march into Mr. Mugabe's official residence to send a stronger message to him.

At the end of it, nobody could doubt that this was the political obituary of the autocrat who has ruled Zimbabwe for nearly four decades.

He still holds the title of President, but his power has vanished.

Astonishingly, not a single police officer was visible at any of the antiMugabe rallies that erupted across the city. For the first time, Zimbabweans were completely free to insult their President and to jeer the ruling party. Many of them did both.

"Rest in peace, Robert Mugabe," one protestor shouted. "We're not your personal property."

Others carried a full-sized cardboard coffin, emblazoned with his name. "Resign now," their placards read. "Mugabe must go."

They burst into thunderous ovations for any passing soldiers or armoured vehicles, voicing their gratitude to the military for putting Mr. Mugabe under house arrest.

Until now, political demonstrations have always been crushed or harassed by thuggish police and intelligence agents who routinely arrest and assault protestors. Their absence from the streets, and the sudden freedom of political expression, was proof that the ruler has been toppled.

Huge crowds of demonstrators, filling many city blocks in a seemingly endless mass of people, marched to the edge of State House, the presidential headquarters in Harare, to send a clear message to Mr. Mugabe to step down. They pushed past a few soldiers who tried to halt their march several blocks from State House.

Only a reinforced military presence prevented them from bursting into the building itself.

"The repressive era is over," said Tawanda Marimbi, a 38-year-old college lecturer who joined the crowds at the anti-Mugabe rallies. "From today, Zimbabwe is a free country."

Associated Graphic

Zimbabweans watch a televised address by President Robert Mugabe at a bar in downtown Harare on Sunday. The long-serving leader baffled the country by ending his rambling speech without announcing his much-expected resignation.


Members of Zimbabwe's ruling ZANU-PF party react upon hearing Sunday that Robert Mugabe had been dismissed as the party's leader. However, he still remained President of the country on Sunday.


Edgier CUV shows it's ready for the curves
Despite subtle cosmetic changes outside, new shock absorbers and suspension upgrades make this crossover feel like a sports sedan
Special to The Globe and Mail
Thursday, November 23, 2017 – Print Edition, Page D3


Base price: $44,050; as tested: $57,200 (turbo)/$62,700 (hybrid)

Engine: 2.0-litre, I-4, Atkinson cycle, turbocharged; hybrid, 2.5-litre, Atkinson cycle with two electric motors

Transmission/drive: Turbo: Six-speed automatic/allwheel; Hybrid: CVT/all-wheel

Fuel economy (litres/100 km): Turbo: 10.6 city/8.5 highway; Hybrid: 7.2 city; 7.9 highway

Alternatives: Acura RDX, Audi Q5, BMW X3, Mercedes GLC-Class

Casual observers of the mid-sized Lexus NX crossover could be forgiven for walking by the refreshed 2018 model without taking a second look. Its faithful allegiance to the spirit of the aggressively angular first-generation LX could fool you into thinking nothing has changed.

Not so. Subtle cosmetic changes outside, new convenience and safety features inside and suspension upgrades underneath aim to keep the refreshed NX ahead of a very crowded field of hungry competitors nipping at its handsome butt.

A side-by-side comparison of the 2017 and 2018 models reveals the cosmetic updates. They include new front grilles (which still look as if a shark is about to take a bite) and new headlight and tail-light designs on all models. The hybrid stands apart from other models with a pointy snout and grille treatment. Inside, the eight-speaker Enform audio system is now standard on the base, premium and F Sport Series 1 with an eight-inch display. Steering-wheelmounted paddle shifters have also been added, even on the hybrid with its continuously variable transmission (CVT).

The Lexus Enform comes with an app suite (Yelp, stocks, traffic, fuel and other information) and GPS link.

The Luxury, Executive and F Sport Series 2 and 3 come with a 10.3-inch screen, a very slick navigation system and "destination assist" - which is a live person available any time of the day who can direct you to where you want to go.

The big software improvement on all models, however, is the standard Lexus Safety System+, which includes precollision detection, lanedeparture alert, an automatic high beam and dynamic radar cruise control. One trip with this cruise system - which adjusts speed to avoid creeping up on slower cars - spoils you from ever using conventional cruise again.

The entry-level NX 200t has been rebadged the NX 300 (the hybrid is called the NX 300h). And the upgraded interior includes snazzy "flare red," dark rose and ochre shades on its rich leather seats. The tasteful treatment adds a bit more luxury feel for those young professionals who want their Lexus to signal their intent to make a mark on the world.

The NX was introduced in 2014 to appeal to a new demographic, says Jennifer Barron, director of Lexus in Canada. The target was the Top 40 Under 40 set - new and younger buyers who want a vehicle "that reflects their ambition and their own drive." Since introduction, the NX has captured 27 per cent of total Lexus sales in Canada, second only to the RX.

As lovely as the refinements are, the real excitement can be found in driveability enhancements - best experienced, by the way, with the 18inch alloy wheels that appear at the Luxury trim level. The NX's new shock absorbers and an advanced version of its adaptive variable suspension create a ride that makes this compact utility vehicle (CUV) feel a bit like a sports sedan on the road.

Well, at least in the turbo version.

Testing the NX on the twisty back roads in the B.C. Interior near Penticton revealed a tale of two vehicles.

The first is the sedate, quiet and dignified hybrid that puts the emphasis on fuel economy. Lexus parent Toyota has applied more than two decades of experience with the Prius into making hybrids as good as any on the market. Hypermiler nerds such as me enjoy watching screen images of the two electric-drive motors kicking in and out to boost or take over propulsion from the 2.5litre gasoline engine, as we climbed and then drifted down hills.

That, apparently, is not what most NX buyers do, however. Barron reports the hybrid has just 5 per cent of total NX sales in Canada.

So "the other" NX - the one with a stouter heart - is the one most buyers prefer. The 2.0-litre, turbocharged non-hybrid sends an impressive 235 horsepower and 258 lb-ft of torque through its six-speed transmission. On a vehicle that shares its platform with the compact RAV4, that's enough power to make tight turns really interesting. Switching into "sport" mode on the F Sport models tightens the steering and stiffens the suspension. And, unlike in the hybrid, the paddle shifters actually do something, allowing you to keep the engine near its 5,000rpm sweet spot through the turns.

This truly is a fun CUV to drive, but it also faces some mighty stiff competition from Acura, Audi, BMW and Mercedes. The updates effectively keep the Lexus in the hunt, adding a sportier edge .

Nothing in the test drive, however, was enough to convince me the NX will pull away from the pack. The tipping point may in fact be something that can't be measured in a first drive on the back roads near Penticton - the company's reputation for making solid vehicles that spend more time on the road than in the repair shop. Pair that with respectable performance and you have something to truly get excited about.

The writer was a guest of the auto maker. Content was not subject to approval.


Retains the funky modern look of the first-generation NX, with just enough styling refinements to signal a minor refresh.

Pleasant, but not something that will quicken the pulse.


It's a little busy around the instrument cluster. The fit and finish on the interior is immaculate and conveys a sense of class.


The turbo has ample power and torque, and the sport mode on the F Sport series makes this vehicle hug the curves as if it were a sports car. The hybrid, however, has a typically annoying CVT that often has the engine revving urgently, to modest effect.


The Lexus Security System+ is a winner: Once you try the features, you just won't want to live without the precollision detection, lane-departure alert, automatic high beam and dynamic-radar cruise control.

The nav system works well and the Enform App Suite is handy, if a bit confusing until you get oriented.


It's standard compact SUV fare, best suited for two passengers and some luggage. With the rear seats folded, space is measured at 500 L.


9.0 Comfortable, quiet and spirited - especially in the turbo form - the vehicle conveys a sense of quality workmanship inside and out. You'll like this car if you're a year out of law school and want the world to see your career trajectory is trending just the way you'd like it to.

Associated Graphic

The 2.0-litre, turbocharged non-hybrid Lexus NX sends an impressive 235 horsepower through its six-speed transmission and 258 lb-ft of torque, while the hybrid version places the emphasis on fuel economy.


Ottawa looks to provinces for billions to support housing plan
Thursday, November 23, 2017 – Print Edition, Page A1

OTTAWA, TORONTO -- Prime Minister Justin Trudeau released a $40-billion national housing program on Wednesday, but the plan counts on the provinces to contribute billions and key elements won't begin until after the next federal election.

The 10-year program assumes the provinces will be willing to match federal spending plans in some areas, meaning further negotiations will be needed before the details are worked out. Quebec in particular says it wants to hammer out its own agreement with Ottawa.

The main new initiative announced on Wednesday is a $4-billion Canada Housing Benefit, which would provide rent support for about 300,000 low-income households and would begin in 2020. Ottawa expects the provinces to cover half of the cost.

Ottawa is also responding to one of the most pressing concerns raised by Canada's cities, offering $4.8-billion to address the fact that many long-standing social-housing agreements with Ottawa were scheduled to expire over the coming years.

Standing in front a construction site where work is under way on a new mixed-income redevelopment of the Lawrence Heights publichousing complex in northwest Toronto, the Prime Minister said he was confident the provinces would endorse and help pay for what he called his "once-in-a-generation" housing plan.

"What we have heard from our provincial partners here in Ontario and across the country, our municipal partners, is a level of excitement and a level of commitment to getting this done," Mr. Trudeau told reporters.

But even Ontario Housing Minister Peter Milczyn, who was invited to the same podium to praise Mr. Trudeau's announcement, would not firmly commit to new spending on Wednesday.

"There is more money here on the table from them, so obviously, now that there is a partnership to be had, we'll be working with them," Mr. Milczyn said in an interview.

The Federation of Canadian Municipalities praised the announcement as a "breakthrough" for Canadian cities pushing for help in dealing with a shortage of affordable housing.

The housing plan provides details as to how Ottawa will spend the $11.2-billion over 11 years that was announced in the March budget.

The budget had pledged to address concerns over expiring social-housing contracts, but the government had not announced a dollar figure for that pledge until Wednesday.

Other parts of the strategy are paid for out of funding for housing that had previously been in place.

Some observers questioned why the program was limited to low-income Canadians and does not address the fact that many other Canadians are also struggling to find an affordable home.

"I thought it would be much more encompassing," Conservative MP Karen Vecchio said. "We hear this government talk a lot about the middle class. What is this doing to help the middle class? All it's doing is providing government subsidies, but it's not providing a plan for the future."

Jeremy Kronick, a senior policy analyst with the C.D. Howe Institute, expressed similar concern that the program does not address the broader housing pressures in Canada's largest cities.

"This is about targeting low-income and homelessness," he said.

"These are noble goals and ones to be proud of, but these measures do not deal with middle-class affordability issues in our major cities."

Some provinces provided a positive initial reaction, but cautioned that many details need to be worked out and understood.

B.C. Premier John Horgan said federal support for social housing will help his province focus on broader affordability issues. He promised more provincial action on that front when his government releases its February budget.

"We need to bring on more housing and it needs to be not just onebedroom apartments in the sky," he said. "We need to build houses and homes for families and that means two- and three-bedroom units. That means building density around transportation corridors."

Alberta Minister of Seniors and Housing Lori Sigurdson said in an interview that she welcomed the announcement and was not surprised by the focus on cost-sharing between governments.

"There's lots more work to be done to understand it all, but I think it's a step in the right direction," she said in an interview.

The Quebec government saluted the federal commitment of funds but wants to negotiate a funding agreement outside the national program so the province can continue to run housing, said Lise Thériault, the Quebec minister in charge of housing.

She said her province will want a "bilateral and asymmetric agreement to support our programs and objectives. We're ready to sit down now."

"We want to remain the project manager for housing on our territory," Ms. Thériault said in an interview. "The federal government won't dictate priorities to Quebec."

Federal documents released on Wednesday state that the goal is to promote diverse communities with a mix of incomes and uses that are near transit, work, grocery stores and public services.

Brent Toderian, a consultant and former chief planner for the city of Vancouver, said those are laudable goals, but that it is not immediately clear how Ottawa can influence decisions that are ultimately in the hands of provinces and municipalities.

Mr. Toderian said the plan could be positive if it connects with other federal programs such as transit and climate-change funding to encourage more neighbourhood density and reduce car dependence.

"When you start to put these programs together, you start to see a

city-building momentum. And that's a good thing," he said. "I think there's a series of moves, including this housing strategy, that show the federal government understands the challenges of cities, and that's a nice change."

Many housing advocates welcomed the federal government's commitment to a new portablehousing benefit. B.C. already has similar program. So does Ontario, but it is currently quite small, funded by the provincial and federal governments and administered by municipalities.

In Toronto, for example, about 4,000 people now receive housing supplements that range from $250 to $400 a month to help them find a home amid the city's skyrocketing private market rents.

"It gives people a little more purchasing power, a few more options in where they choose their housing," said Greg Suttor, a former adviser to Ontario's Housing Ministry who is now a researcher with the Wellesley Institute, an urban-health think tank in Toronto. "I am not saying it is transformative, but it helps."

Housing and anti-poverty advocates have criticized the lack of a large federal role in the construction of new social housing since the early 1990s - a hole the federal Liberals hoped to fill with their long-awaited plan.

But activists in several cities across the country, including those with the Ontario Coalition Against Poverty in Toronto, staged demonstrations and marches on Wednesday to warn that federal money is spread too thin over too many years to address urgent housing needs.

With reports from Justine Hunter in Victoria and Les Perreaux in Montreal

Associated Graphic

Prime Minister Justin Trudeau visits a housing development in Toronto's Lawrence Heights neighbourhood on Wednesday, the day his government released its national housing strategy.


In Ontario, hydro's future gets murkier
The province is struggling to keep up with the pace of technological change as the cost of leaving the grid get lower
Tuesday, November 14, 2017 – Print Edition, Page A3

TORONTO -- Technological upheaval is threatening to upend Ontario's electricity sector faster than the government can revamp it.

As the price of rooftop solar panels plummets and large-scale batteries become affordable for the first time, a future where Ontarians produce their own power and cut the cord to the wider grid appears to be approaching.

While few Ontarians were aware of it at the time, Feb. 18 could be seen as the start of the province's electrical transformation. On that Saturday, with the sun blazing and a strong wind powering turbines, demand for electricity from the province's traditional generating stations was actually lower in the busy middle of the day than it had been when most people were sleeping hours earlier.

Solar and wind power was flooding the market. Prior to that day, electricity demand on traditional plants had always increased in the morning when people woke up and then spiked around midday. The afternoon slump was a sign of how far renewable electricity and locally produced power had come and how much harder demand for traditional power would be to predict. A similar pattern could be observed on April 8.

"In the past, the job of a system operator was simple and straightforward," said Leonard Kula, the chief operating officer of Ontario's Independent Electricity System Operator (IESO), the agency that controls the power system. Those easy days are now gone and the future promises to be ever more complicated.

Crossing lines Once an idea limited to isolated cottages and the environmentally zealous, making your own electricity and storing it in your garage could be cheaper than the traditional way of buying power within a decade.

Benoit Laclau, Ernst and Young's adviser on power and utilities, has guidance for politicians and utility leaders around the world who employ the accounting firm: Exercise caution on any big projects that will require more than a decade to pay off.

On a piece of paper, he can draw a graph with two lines. One starts low and represents the slowly increasing cost of electricity provided by a traditional electricity company; the second starts higher but is going down "really rapidly" and reflects the cost of people producing power on their own roof. "Those two lines cross, and they are going to cross soon, a lot sooner than we had expected," he said.

Inexpensive, dependable energy storage is the key and it's coming fast, driven by massive investment in electric cars. Mr. Laclau estimates that residential power will be cheaper than a traditional hydro bill in four to 10 years, depending on the region. "That is pretty troubling for the energy companies when they need to make big decisions about where they'll invest next," he said.

Most energy talk from Premier Kathleen Wynne's government has centred on recent plans to cut hydro bills, a rebate plan the province's Financial Accountability Office has warned could cost $45-billion and require nearly three decades to pay off - assuming people stick with current electrical providers for that long.

However, Ontario's Energy Ministry is laying the foundations for the disruptive changes on the horizon.

In the province's latest long-term energy plan, released last month, the Ontario government opened the door to neighbours and neighbourhoods producing power and sharing it locally, doing away with the large generating stations and hulking transmission lines that have been the mainstay of electrical systems for over a century.

"We are rebuilding the foundation of our electricity system," Energy Minister Glenn Thibeault said last month. "That new foundation will allow us to adapt and modernize as more and more homeowners and businesses get on new technology."

In response to an uncertain future, the province's new strategy for longterm power production is to not plan for new electricity supply in future years as demand continues to grow.

Of course, many Ontarians won't be able to make their own power any time soon - including renters and people living in condo towers who don't have access to a roof for solar panels. Also, in some dense urban areas, the existing system is efficient and could turn a profit for decades to come. However, Mr. Laclau warns utilities that they need to prepare for the coming disruption. He imagines a future where some power utilities install solar panels on residential roofs and collect a monthly rent on the equipment.

"Why wouldn't energy companies invest in their consumers instead of losing them? Instead of investing in big plants, the energy company might have to rethink their model and invest in the house. We're getting to a place now where consumers will have an abundance of choices to make and they'll need to make a choice," he said.

Some skeptics believe this disruption won't happen for decades, if ever. They don't expect storage will become dependable and cheap in the near future. They also point out electricity storage is complicated and, even once prices are down, it will cost thousands of dollars to install. The regulatory barriers protecting utilities are high and authorities have been slow to make changes.

Finally, consumers may struggle with cutting the cord, worried that a week of grey skies will leave them in the dark.

Storage challenge Ontario's IESO is looking at a new tool, with plans to unveil 25 storage projects over the next six months.

For the past five years, the government agency has been experimenting with ways of turning lots of electricity into something that can be stored and used when needed.

The province has tried a number of storage pilots. A giant bag under Lake Ontario is filled with air when power is cheap and emptied to turn a turbine when it's expensive. Giant flywheels have been built, where a wheel is spun to high speeds and power is extracted from slowing it down. Numerous flow and lithium batteries have been tried, as well as one of the simplest storage ideas, where water is pumped up a hill and later channelled back down to spin a turbine.

Ontario now expects 2.4 million electric vehicles on the road by 2030 - a number that is hotly disputed by some outside of government.

Officials see both a challenge and an opportunity in that many electric cars. In the province's long-term energy plan, they've expressed a worry that too many cars plugged in at the same time in one neighbourhood could overwhelm a local grid.

But in the same document, they also see electric cars as a form of storage the province could tap - effectively musing about using people's cars as giant batteries when they are plugged in, allowing utilities to draw power from them when needed to help even out fluctuations in local power demand.

While the Energy Ministry once planned its coal use decades into the future, officials are not struggling to see how wind and solar will change the world only a few years out. "It's very exciting," Mr. Thibeault said.

Associated Graphic

As the price of rooftop solar panels plummets, a future where Ontarians produce their own power appears to be on the horizon.


Definite answers
Web-series veterans Hannah Cheesman and Mackenzie Donaldson talk making the film-circuit rounds with their feature debut
Saturday, November 18, 2017 – Print Edition, Page R4

For six months starting in late 2014, web series Whatever, Linda creators Hannah Cheesman and Mackenzie Donaldson chronicled their careers as young, female producers in the ever-shifting film/TV/ digital landscape for The Globe and Mail. With their first feature film, The Definites, having premiered at the Cucalorus Festival in Wilmington, N.C., this past week, The Globe checked back in with the producing partners over e-mail.

In one of your first columns, you chronicled shooting scenes guerrilla-style at Art Basel in Miami.

Was shooting the rest of The Definites in Toronto as exciting?

Hannah Cheesman: "Exciting" is one way of putting it. I kid. It was such an unusual project, because what we shot in Miami and brought back home with us, we then tore apart upon return to Toronto, rebroke the storyline and rewrote the script.

Mackenzie Donaldson: I would describe the Toronto leg of shooting, which was three separate shoots over 11/2 years, as more exciting than Miami. First, because after Miami, it was beyond pleasurable to be fully prepped and prepared with a fulsome crew and plan to execute in the old-fashioned indie way. And secondly, because of what our amazing crew pulled off including finding missing wardrobe pieces on Bunz (we traded broccoli for a matching American apparel shirt that was missing from Miami) and not just matching winter Toronto for hot Miami but also then spring Toronto for winter Toronto.

What's your elevator pitch of The Definites? (And do people even pitch in elevators any more?) HC: A woman leaves her husbandto-be and instead weds her own wild desire when she flies away to a libidinous, party-filled weekend at Art Basel Miami.

There, she collides with her estranged sister, as they try to navigate and reconcile with the untimely death of their mother.

MD: I don't know if we pitch in elevators any more, but a 30-second pitch is still as important as ever to sell your film. If you don't have someone interested in the first 10 seconds you've probably lost them.

You've already sold the film to Mongrel and TMN in Canada.

How did that come about?

HC: Mackenzie and I both brought two key elements to the table in order to procure this deal. For my part, I'd met one of the heads at Mongrel first at a TIFF karaoke night, then at Cannes. He's a smart business mind with a great eye for film, and when we finally had a cut of the film that we were proud of, I reached out to him.

MD: And I have a great relationship through my work on Orphan Black with executives at Bell Media, so as soon we had a screener I sent it their way to see if it might fit with their channel TMN. It did and they continue to be amazing supporters of the project and of both Hannah and I.

After Cucalorus, The Definites headed to the Key West Film Festival and the Whistler Film Festival - and it's also at the Bahamas International Film Festival in December. Is your life as glamorous as it sounds?

HC: I know it's cliché to bring up the starving-artist trope, but to say my life is any less precarious than that would be a misrepresentation. I wouldn't call that glamorous.

Almost every aspect of the festivals we go to are paid for out of pocket. I joke that filmmaking is an expensive hobby, but there's truth there.

MD: I'm still debating whether or not I will fork out the money to get to BIFF. I really want one of us to represent the film at our international premiere, but like Hannah said, going would be completely out of pocket for us so I have to look at my bank account. The business is an odd combination of glamour and poverty.

Whatever happened to Whatever, Linda - the "internet odyssey" we had a sneak peek of on The Globe's site back in 2014? I thought it was becoming a full series.

HC: Linda has indeed been (and continues to be) an odyssey. We were in development with behemoth Hollywood producer Mark Gordon and had a deal set up with BBC America.

This summer, that fell through. We are still working with Graeme Manson, who is on board to executive produce, and have another pending deal with a new network - but wait for that announcement in early 2018.

MD: Oh, the ups and downs. Linda is our first-born baby and she definitely is in her teens. The project has new momentum after a hard summer, but I've actually never been more excited about the future for Linda.

Can you each update me on some of your individual projects?

HC: The last year has been a really exciting one for me. I wrote for Workin' Moms (season 2), a new kids liveaction show about a time-travelling ballerina called Find Me in Paris and am in the development room for a half-hour comedy project with CBC and Project 10 Productions.

MD: We wrapped the final season of Orphan Black in March, which was like saying goodbye to my extended family of five years. I started my own production company in April and through that company, I'm working on a slate of TV and film projects.

My company is working on its first development deal with a network right now and is producing its first feature documentary, Citizen Bio, for Showtime.

And are you still teaming up to create work together?

HC: Indeed we are! At Cucalorus, we will also be premiering a short we made (me director-writer; Mack producing) called Emmy. It stars Amanda Brugel and we made it together last year. Also, we have a digital show in development with CBC's digital arm, called Did.

Your column for us was often explicitly about working as young women in a male-dominated industry. Have you felt anything shift since we last checked in with you?

HC: If we look at the stats collected by organizations like the Geena Davis Institute, no. But I think there is undeniably a fomenting of awareness and a rallying around the glaring inequities and biases of this industry. The fact that Telefilm has committed gender parity in its project funding could in fact mean real change, real shifts.

MD: There's a lot of buzz around change and equality in the business, especially with the whole Harvey/ Hoffman/Spacey news. And there are new opportunities and funds being designed to help facilitate that equality, so I hope we see real change in the stats in the coming years. Because when you look at those numbers today, it doesn't look good for equality or change, but I have hope.

The interview has been edited and condensed.

Associated Graphic

From left: Writer, co-director and star Hannah Cheesman; co-director and producer Mackenzie Donaldson; producer and actor Sam Coyle; and producer and actor Michael Seater are seen at the Cucalorus Festival in Wilmington, N.C., where their feature film The Definites premiered.


Opinions divided over Supreme Court pick
As PM gears up to make his second appointment, some press for gender parity while others argue the need for an Indigenous judge
Friday, November 17, 2017 – Print Edition, Page A3

Prime Minister Justin Trudeau is facing the politics of gender, race, language and region as he prepares to make his second appointment to the Supreme Court of Canada.

Mr. Trudeau has invited applications from bilingual candidates from the West and the North to fill the position being vacated by Chief Justice Beverley McLachlin, who retires in mid-December. Six weeks ago, an independent committee gave the Prime Minister a short list of three to five candidates, although he is free to go outside the list. An announcement could be made this month.

To some legal observers, keeping a gender split in place with at least four women on the nine-member Supreme Court is vital.

"The first rule should be parity at the Supreme Court," retired Quebec Court of Appeal justice Louise Otis told The Globe and Mail.

But Jean Teillet, a senior Vancouver lawyer who is Métis, said the need for an Indigenous judge is more pressing. "The important point to me is to have women's perspectives. As long as we actually have women on the court, then that issue is taken care of. We need to put an aboriginal on the court because we have not got that." (Pierre Trudeau, father of the current Prime Minister, appointed the court's first female justice, Bertha Wilson, in 198s2.)

And then there are regional politics.

"I'm very much of the view this is a British Columbia appointment," said Ted Hughes, a former deputy attorney-general in the province.

On top of all that, Mr. Trudeau is insisting candidates be functionally bilingual in Canada's two official languages. Independent Liberal Senator Murray Sinclair has said the requirement may stand in the way of putting the first Indigenous judge on the top court.

Prime Minister Trudeau has made gender equality a priority. He has implemented a 50/50 gender split in Cabinet and his government's judicial appointments have been roughly 50/50. He has also stressed reconciliation with Indigenous peoples.

In his initial appointment to the Supreme Court, he sought to break free from regional constraints. Under Canadian law, three judges on the top court must be from Quebec.

The choice of the remaining six is guided by convention: Ontario receives three, Atlantic Canada one and the West two - of whom one usually is from B.C. Mr. Trudeau opened that competition for Supreme Court justice to bilingual candidates from the whole country, but relented under all-party pressure and appointed Justice Malcolm Rowe, the first judge from Newfoundland and Labrador on the top court.

The Globe spoke to more than 20 senior members of the legal community in several provinces on the condition of anonymity, so they could speak freely about top legal talent and who is making their way through the process.

Two female judges - Alberta Court of Appeal Justice Sheilah Martin, and Saskatchewan Court of Appeal Justice Georgina Jackson - are widely seen as contenders.

At least one Indigenous candidate - University of Victoria law professor John Borrows - is viewed as a contender. He has been studying French. A second possibility is British Columbia's former representative for children and youth, Mary Ellen Turpel-Lafond. She is bilingual.

And at least one white male is believed to be in the running, if a long shot: Chief Justice Glenn Joyal of the Manitoba Court of Queen's Bench.

(He is a long shot as much for having been an appointee of the Stephen Harper government as for being a white male.)

Justice Martin has caught the government's eye. In its first set of judicial appointments last June, it elevated her to the Alberta Court of Appeal from the Court of Queen's Bench.

A bilingual former law dean at the University of Calgary, she has been at the forefront of women's issues.

She helped develop the legal arguments for the Women's Legal Education and Action Fund, a highly successful advocacy group, in more than two dozen test cases. Her thesis for her doctorate in law at the University of Toronto in 1991 was on women's reproduction, bias against women in the legal system and the Charter of Rights and Freedoms.

University of Calgary law professor Kathleen Mahoney, who has known Justice Martin personally for three decades, calls her an exceptional candidate. "I am confident that her rich experience in human rights, equality law, ethics, and Indigenous rights would help guide the Court in difficult and complex cases they will be required to decide in the future," she said in an e-mail to The Globe.

Justice Martin also has a background in Quebec's Civil Code, having studied it while doing a law degree at McGill University. Born in 1957, she would have 15 years before mandatory retirement.

If Mr. Trudeau chooses Justice Martin, the Supreme Court would have two judges from Alberta.

(Supreme Court Justice Russell Brown, although born and raised in B.C., was an Alberta judge before joining the court and is, therefore, seen as an Alberta appointment.)

Justice Jackson would be the first Supreme Court judge from Saskatchewan since Emmett Hall, who served from 1962 to 1973.

The bilingual Justice Jackson has been on the Saskatchewan Court of Appeal for a quarter-century. She was an appointee of Brian Mulroney's government. A former business lawyer, she has been a leader in judicial education in Canada and abroad. She is in her mid-60s.

Gerald Seniuk, a retired judge from the Saskatchewan Provincial Court, said Justice Jackson epitomizes judicial demeanour, by which he means she pays close attention when others speak. "She's pretty solid in terms of her judgments. I've never heard any criticism of her legal reasoning, her fairness and her respect for the litigants and of the process and society. I think of her as a progressive-minded judge, but maybe not somebody who shakes the boat."

Prof. Borrows is the author of several books and an original thinker on how to weave together Indigenous and Canadian law. He has the deep respect of a wide swath of the legal community across the country.

Ms. Turpel-Lafond has been a constitutional adviser to the Assembly of First Nations, a Provincial Court judge in Saskatchewan (from which she has been on leave for more than a decade) and an outspoken advocate for children and youth in B.C.

Prof. Borrows, Ms. Turpel-Lafond and Justice Jackson declined to comment on whether they are candidates. Chief Justice Joyal and Justice Martin could not be reached.

Chief Justice Joyal, who was appointed by Mr. Harper in 2011, has been a judge since 1998. He is a former Crown attorney and defence lawyer who practised at the Winnipeg law firm led by Justice Martin's late husband, Hersh Wolch.

In a speech earlier this year that may not find favour among the proCharter Liberal government, Chief Justice Joyal said that "judicial dominance" over legislators has grown under the 1982 rights document.

Associated Graphic

Prime Minister Justin Trudeau's second appointment to the top court, to replace Chief Justice Beverley McLachlin's seat on the bench, has prompted debate on gender, racial, linguistic and regional considerations.


Changing climate, empty barrels
Expect rising costs for European wines, as summer droughts and cold spells lead into vastly reduced fall harvests
Saturday, October 28, 2017 – Print Edition, Page L18

Your favourite European wine may soon get a tad pricier, or at least harder to find. Blame it on the weather. A freakish combination of frost, hail and severe drought across the continent this year conspired to produce what some are calling one of the smallest harvests since the Second World War.

The European Commission has forecast an across-the-board drop in wine-must production of 14.4 per cent among member countries, down to 14.5 billion litres from 16.9 billion in 2016.

"That's an enormous amount of wine that's kind of missing," said Stephen Rannekleiv, the global beverage strategist at Rabobank, a Dutch multinational bank with a heavy focus on the food and agricultural sectors.

"That's close to 10 per cent of what the world consumes in wine in a typical year."

Italy, the world's largest wine producer, appears to have suffered the biggest wallop. The EC expects volume there to be down 21 per cent, while the Copa-Cocega European farm union pegs the figure at an even higher 26 per cent.

In many areas, early flowering left vines vulnerable to frost, which damaged opening buds and shoots. Then came intense heat and drought, which accelerated ripening but kept berry size down. (Although crop yields are down, fruit quality is said to be generally very good.) In Sicily, many producers began harvesting in July, three weeks ahead of normal. Coldiretti, an Italian agricultural lobby, predicted Sicilian production alone would fall 35 per cent over 2016, with Tuscany - home of Chianti - not far behind at a deficit of 30 per cent.

The picture was not much rosier in the continent's other two wine powerhouses, France and Spain, with widespread frost hitting both countries and notorious hailstorms adding to the pain in such high-priced regions as Burgundy.

Rabobank's Rannekleiv said it's not uncommon for one country to be off by up to 15 per cent in output in a single year.

But in such cases other countries can mitigate price swings by filling market gaps and increasing output with, say, wine that might have otherwise been sent for distillation. The challenge this year, he adds, is that "all three top producers are off by a significant amount."

Rannekleiv says producers are generally reluctant to hike prices in response to one-time weather anomalies because they risk losing consumer loyalty - and thus market share - to competitors. He expects the biggest price impact to be felt at the low end, where profit margins are already razor thin. In the premium and superpremium spheres, many wineries can afford to absorb the shock and pray for better weather in 2018.

Just in case, let's sip some fine European liquid before they can decide to make it pricier.

Jean Baptiste Ponsot Molesme Rully 2015 (France) SCORE: 93 PRICE: $43.95

A premier cru from the underappreciated Rully appellation in Burgundy. Full and round, with ripe fruit, impressive mid-palate gravity and tangy acid balance.

There's noticeable oak in this chardonnay in the form of vanilla, caramel and toast but there's substantial fruit to support it.

Smart Burgundian winemaking. Expensive but worth it. Available in limited quantities in select large LCBO stores in Ontario.

William Fèvre Chablis Montmains 2014 (France) SCORE: 93 PRICE: $39.95

A premier cru, medium-bodied and silky, with oily texture and a truckload of minerals as well as a flinty, mouthpuckering, saline edge. In other words, classic Chablis. Available in Ontario at the above price, approximately $55 in select British Columbia private stores, various prices in Alberta, $52 in Quebec, $50.39 in Nova Scotia.

Castello di Querceto Chianti Classico Riserva 2013 (Italy) SCORE: 92 PRICE: $28.95

Terrifically chewy, with notes of dried cherry, licorice, spices and cedar. Good concentration and ripeness. It's worth cellaring this red up to eight more years.

Available in Ontario.

Fumanelli Squarano Valpolicella Classico Superiore 2014 (Italy) SCORE: 92 PRICE: $42.95

Great producer. And not your cheappizzeria sort of valpolicella. Solid depth and structure, with cherry-plum fruit in the foreground, a woody-cedar overtone and lots of fun in between.

Available in Ontario at the above price, various prices in Alberta.

Feudo Maccari Saia 2014 (Italy) SCORE: 92 PRICE: $34.94

Smooth, very dense and chunky Sicilian red. Made from the local nero d'avola grape, with spiced plum and flecks of prune and raisin, veering nicely into savoury territory with leathery aromatics reminiscent of a shoe-repair shop.

Available in Ontario at the above price, various prices in Alberta.

J.L. Chave Sélection Mon Coeur Côtes du Rhône 2015 (France) SCORE: 91 PRICE: $21.95

Surprisingly good for the dollars.

Full-bodied, polished to a cue-ball sheen, with a concentrated core of plum and blackberry joined by a gamy, smokybacon essence and black pepper. Available in Ontario at the above price, various prices in Alberta, $23.30 in Quebec.

M. Chapoutier les Vignes de Bila-Haut Côtes du Roussillon Villages 2016 (France) SCORE: 90 PRICE: $15.95

Very southern France, with a soft, ripe centre that turns chewy, dry and spicy around the edges, showing cherry jam, licorice and black pepper. Chewy-ripe tannins. Good weight and gravity. Available in Ontario at the above price, $15.79 in British Columbia, $15.55 in Quebec, $18 in Nova Scotia, $19.96 in Newfoundland (currently on sale for $17.96), $18.09 in Prince Edward Island.

Magana Dignus 2012 (Spain) SCORE: 90 PRICE: $16.95

A blend of 50-per-cent tempranillo with merlot and cabernet sauvignon.

Much going on for the money in this Navarra red, including cherry, vanilla, licorice, underbrush and a pleasantly subtle whiff of barnyard. Very Spanish, and a major value. Available in Ontario at the above price, various prices in Alberta, $17.90 in Quebec.

Baglio di Pianetto Shymer Syrah Merlot 2013 (Italy) SCORE: 90 PRICE: $19.95

Velvety, meaty Sicilian red. Plum syrup, baking spices and hints of cedar, black olive, raisin and pepper. Vibrant, and with tangy edge, too. Available in Ontario.

Massucco Roero Arneis 2015 (Italy) SCORE: 89 PRICE: $17.95

From Piedmont, home of the obscure but increasingly hip white grape arneis.

The wine is light-medium-bodied and soft, though with good acidity and notes of stone fruit, almond and spice, finishing with a chalky sensation. Available in Ontario.

Cantina di Negrar Garganega 2016 (Italy) SCORE: 88 PRICE: $9.85

You know garganega, if not necessarily by name. It's the grape of Soave, one of northern Italy's historically maligned whites. The variety may not trip of the tongue as suavely as "Soave," but this beverage goes down mighty easy. Plump and richly flavoured, it offers up pear, peach and apple fruit on a smooth texture, with snappy acidity lifting things on the finish. Good house- or wedding-wine candidate. Available in Ontario at the above price, various prices in Alberta.

Beppi Crosariol will be among the hosts of The Globe and Mail River Cruise, which sails next August through the wine regions of Burgundy, Beaujolais and the Rhône Valley. For details, visit

Saudis backpedal after moves destabilize region
Kingdom says it will reopen airports, seaports in Yemen in response to international criticism over its actions there and in Lebanon
Associated Press
Tuesday, November 14, 2017 – Print Edition, Page A1

BEIRUT -- Saudi Arabia's dramatic moves to counter Iran in the region appear to have backfired, significantly ratcheting up regional tensions and setting off a spiral of reactions and anger that seem to have caught the kingdom off guard.

Now, it's trying to walk back its escalations in Lebanon and Yemen.

On Monday, the kingdom announced that the Saudi-led coalition fighting Shia rebels in Yemen would begin reopening airports and seaports in the Arab world's poorest country, days after closing them over a rebel ballistic missile attack on Riyadh.

The move came just hours after Lebanese Prime Minister Saad alHariri, who shocked the country by announcing his resignation from the Saudi capital on Nov. 4, gave an interview in which he backed off his strident condemnation of the Lebanese militant group and political party Hezbollah, saying he would return to the country within days to seek a settlement with the Shia militants, his rivals in his coalition government.

The two developments suggest that Saudi Arabia's bullish young Crown Prince, Mohammed bin Salman, may be trying to pedal back from the abyss of a severe regional escalation.

"This represents de-escalation by the Saudis," said Yezid Sayigh, a senior fellow at the Carnegie Middle East Center in Beirut. "The general trend is that the Saudis are going to back off and this is largely because of the unexpected extent of international pressure, and not least of all U.S. pressure."

Prince Mohammed has garnered a reputation for being decisive, as well as impulsive.

At just 32 years old and with little experience in government, he has risen to power in just three years to oversee all major aspects of politics, security and the economy in Saudi Arabia. As defence minister, he is in charge of the Saudi-led war in Yemen.

He also appears to have the support of U.S. President Donald Trump and his son-in-law, senior adviser Jared Kushner, who visited Riyadh earlier this month.

Saudi partners in the Gulf and the Trump administration rushed to defend the kingdom publicly after a rebel Houthi missile was fired at Riyadh from Yemen last week. A top U.S. military official also backed Saudi claims that the missile was manufactured by Iran.

However, Saudi Arabia's move to tighten an already devastating blockade on Yemen in response to the missile was roundly criticized by aid groups, humanitarian workers and the United Nations, which warned that the blockade could bring millions of people closer to "starvation and death."

Saudi Arabia's decision to ease the blockade after just a week suggests it bowed to the international criticism, and did not want the bad publicity of even more images of emaciated Yemeni children and elderly people circulating online and in the media.

Public pressure, however, has not always worked to bring about a change in Saudi policy. The kingdom's abrupt decision, in co-ordination with the United Arab Emirates, to cut ties with Qatar five months ago was widely criticized as an overreach. Still, Saudi Arabia and the UAE have not backed down from their list of demands, and if anything, appear to have dug in their heels further. The kingdom accuses Qatar of backing extremists in large part because of its ties with Iran and its support of Islamist groups, an allegation Qatar strongly denies.

While Saudi Arabia appears to have the full backing of Mr. Trump, the recent purge of top princes, officials, businessmen and military officers has raised concerns the Crown Prince has overextended himself. The kingdom says it has detained 201 people in the sweeping anti-corruption probe, which Prince Mohammed is overseeing.

The arrests raise the potential for internal strife and discord within the royal family, whose unity has been the bedrock of the kingdom for decades.

The Crown Prince shows no sign of backing down from the purge either. The government has promised to expand its probe, and has reportedly frozen some 1,200 bank accounts.

Those arrested this month will be granted due process, Saudi Arabia's UN Ambassador Abdallah AlMouallimi said on Monday.

"I can assure you there will be due process for anybody who is detained," Mr. Al-Mouallimi told reporters at the United Nations.

Mr. Trump has endorsed the crackdown, saying some of those arrested have been "milking" Saudi Arabia for years, although the State Department has urged Riyadh to carry out prosecutions in a "fair and transparent" manner.

It is too early to say how Saudi Arabia will handle the crisis in Lebanon triggered by Mr. al-Hariri's resignation, and whether he will indeed try to reach a new settlement with Hezbollah as he announced in the interview Sunday night.

But his abrupt resignation, clearly engineered by the kingdom, may have been an uncalculated step too far.

The 47-year-old Saudi-aligned Mr. al-Hariri was summoned from Beirut to Riyadh on Nov. 3 and resigned the next day in a televised speech in which he unexpectedly tore into Iran and its Lebanese proxy Hezbollah, announcing in uncharacteristically strong language that Iran's arms in the region would be "cut off." The resignation shattered a year-old coalition government that included Hezbollah members that had kept the calm and was just starting to make strides toward injecting some cash and confidence in the country's economy.

A political crisis has gripped Lebanon since, but instead of splitting the Lebanese, the manner of Mr. al-Hariri's resignation has provoked outrage among most. Convinced that he was forced to quit and was being held against his will, the Lebanese found rare unity around their demand that Mr. al-Hariri be allowed to return home.

The shock resignation, seen as a rash Saudi decision to drag Lebanon back to the forefront of the Saudi-Iranian battle for regional supremacy, jolted the Middle East and also took world capitals by surprise.

Already facing widespread international criticism over its crippling blockade of Yemen and skepticism over the unprecedented wave of arrests inside Saudi Arabia, the kingdom suddenly seemed to be a rogue country acting on impulse and taking the region to the brink of explosion.

If he was emboldened by the support from Mr. Trump and Mr. Kushner, the Crown Prince appears to have overreached.

While it took a few days, the U.S. response has been embarrassing for the kingdom.

Secretary of State Rex Tillerson said the United States opposes action that would threaten the stability of Lebanon and warned other countries against using Lebanon "as a venue for proxy conflicts" - a statement that seemed to be directed equally at Saudi Arabia and Iran.

The White House issued a strongly worded statement calling on all states and parties to respect Lebanon's sovereignty and constitutional processes, describing Mr. al-Hariri as a "trusted partner of the United States in strengthening Lebanese institutions, fighting terrorism and protecting refugees."

"I think the Saudis fundamentally misjudged this ... and should have known better," said Mr. Sayigh, the Carnegie analyst. "They've been relying too heavily ... on Trump's people and misjudged that the U.S. administration is not just Trump."

with files from Reuters

With more at risk, women of colour often stay silent on sexual assault
Associated Press
Wednesday, November 22, 2017 – Print Edition, Page L4

PHILADELPHIA -- In the weeks since dozens of women have accused movie mogul Harvey Weinstein of rape or sexual harassment, unleashing an avalanche of similar charges against other prominent men across American life, women and men of colour have been largely absent from the national furor.

The stories of abuse have roiled the entertainment industry, politics, tech and more, raising the possibility that this could be a watershed moment to end tolerance of such behaviour. But some observers fear minority women may miss the moment, as they often are more reticent to speak up about sexual harassment.

"The stakes are higher in a lot of instances for us than they are for a lot of other women," said Tarana Burke, a black activist who founded the #MeToo movement on Twitter in 2006 to raise awareness around sexual violence. "That creates a dynamic where you have women of colour who have to think a little bit differently about what it means for them to come forward in cases of sexual harassment."

A few high-profile minority actresses have come forward. New York authorities are investigating claims from actress Paz de la Huerta that Weinstein raped her twice in 2010; he has denied charges of non-consensual sex with any woman.

When Oscar-winning actress Lupita Nyong'o wrote in a New York Times op-ed last month that she had an unsettling encounter with the producer in 2011 at his home, Weinstein quickly denied doing anything inappropriate with Nyong'o, after days of silence following similar accusations by famous white accusers.

Author and activist Feminista Jones said that Weinstein's denial of Nyong'o's allegations sent the message to black women that they can't be harassed, they can't be assaulted. "For black women, that is a message that dates back to slavery, when black women's bodies were not their own and racist stereotypes were used to justify abuse," Rutgers University historian Prof. Deborah Gray White said.

"Historically, African-American women have been perceived as promiscuous," said White, author of the book, Ar'n't I a Woman?: Female Slaves in the Plantation South.

"Black women's bodies, from Day 1, have been available to all men," she said.

As a result, White said, black women have had a hard time proving sexual exploitation. In response, many chose to remain silent as a form of self-preservation.

"Somehow, talking about it is admitting, 'I walk the land unprotected,' " White said. "They were damned if they did and damned if they didn't."

For Asian-American women, speaking up after sexual assault can be daunting for a variety of cultural reasons, said Anna Bang, education co-ordinator at KANWIN, a Chicago-based domestic violence and sexual-assault services group that frequently helps AsianAmerican and immigrant women.

Bang said she has noticed the absence of Asian-American women from the Weinstein conversation and, as a Korean immigrant, doubts that she would tell her family if she were ever assaulted.

"It's such a shame and guilt," she said. "You don't want your parents to be worried about you. ... When we are growing up, your parents teach you, 'Don't share your family problems with people.' We're trying to break that silence by educating our community members."

Many of the women who seek help from KAN-WIN do so a decade or more after the abuse took place, she said.

"In our culture, women ... they teach you how to suck it up," she said. "They teach you to swallow your anger, your fear. It's tough."

Women of Latin American descent also weigh economic and cultural issues when deciding whether to speak out about sexual abuse.

Women of Latin American descent have been stereotyped as being submissive and sexually available, according to Monica Russel y Rodriguez, a Northwestern University ethnographer whose research includes sexuality, race and class in Latino communities.

She said that undocumented immigrants in the United States would be even less likely to report an assault or harassment, fearing anything from job loss to blackmail or deportation.

"Even for white women, there's not going to be any guarantee of an equitable resolution, so it's a lot to expect women in a more highly vulnerable situation to be willing to speak out at the same rate," Russel y Rodriguez said. "There's no reason to expect that Latinas aren't being sexually harassed or raped at the same degree or more."

While most of the recent spate of sexual abuse allegations have been against white men, men of colour have not been immune to such charges. Before the Weinstein scandal upended Hollywood, Bill Cosby's name became synonymous with sexual abuse, as more than 50 women came forward and said the pioneering black actor once known as "America's Dad" forced sexual contact with them over decades.

Last June, Cosby went to trial on charges that he drugged and molested a woman in 2004. The case ended in a mistrial and Cosby is expected to be retried next year.

Since the Weinstein scandal, a writer for the Root, a website geared toward the black audience, said both Jesse Jackson and John Singleton sexually harassed her.

Jackson and Singleton declined to comment when contacted by the Associated Press, as did the Root writer.

George Takei, best known for his role in the original Star Trek, was recently accused of groping a man decades earlier; he denied the allegations. Actor Terry Crews went public with a claim that a Hollywood agent groped him, and that agent was later fired.

And an actress, Demi Mann, filed a lawsuit on Thursday in which she alleged agent Cameron Mitchell sexually assaulted her. Mitchell, who is black, was fired by Creative Arts Agency, LLC.; he called Mann's claims false.

But compared with the dozens of well-known white men named and white women who have made allegations, people of colour have not played a prominent role in this evolving scandal.

Nearly three decades ago, an African-American lawyer started the conversation on the topic. Anita Hill detailed allegations of sexual harassment by her former boss, then-U.S. Supreme Court nominee Clarence Thomas, during the 1991 congressional hearings held ahead of his confirmation. Thomas, also African-American, framed the hearings as a "high-tech lynching" and went on to be confirmed to the top court.

Hill was treated as a pariah by some for coming forward, but she was hailed by others and has spent the decades since as an advocate for women's equality.

Burke, whose online #MeToo campaign was resurrected by actor Alyssa Milano in the wake of the Weinstein charges, doesn't want minority women to miss the moment. She is launching a series of webinars to help women understand sexual violence and is encouraging women of colour around the world to speak out.

"At some point, we have to confront this as a community," Burke said. "This is a great place for this to happen."

Associated Graphic

Participants march against harassment at the #MeToo March in the Hollywood section of Los Angeles on Nov. 12.


In Vancouver, art worthy of royalty
Saturday, October 28, 2017 – Print Edition, Page R1

VANCOUVER -- Next to each work in the new blockbuster show at the Vancouver Art Gallery is a wall placard acknowledging the artwork's owner: "Lent by Her Majesty Queen Elizabeth II."

Spanning six centuries, the works are worthy of royalty, to be sure; they include self-portraits of old masters such as Rembrandt and Rubens, and contemporary art superstars Lucian Freud and David Hockney.

Portrait of the Artist: An Exhibition from the Royal Collection debuted at The Queen's Gallery at Buckingham Palace last year; it has travelled to Vancouver in conjunction with the sesquicentennial. The show opens at the VAG this weekend, where visitors will also find a new exhibition of paintings by the Canadian artist Gordon Smith.

One of the highlights of Portrait of the Artist - and there are many - is a red chalk portrait of Leonardo da Vinci, made by his student Francesco Melzi around 1515-18, not long before the great artist and scientist's death. "It is now acknowledged to be actually the only true likeness of Leonardo in old age - in any age, actually," says Theresa-Mary Morton, with the Royal Collection Trust.

"It's just so beautiful," VAG director Kathleen Bartels said at a media preview Thursday. "I was thinking about it all last night."

These works are part of an enormous historical collection belonging to the Royal Household - things British monarchs gathered to furnish their homes; so not just art but also silver, textiles, carpets. Thus the collection (which is a trust and no longer active) reflects the taste of successive monarchs.

The works are infused with history - but they are also alive with personal details.

Standing next to a black-and white self-portrait of the great Italian baroque sculptor and architect Gian Lorenzo Bernini, the VAG's senior curator - historical, Ian Thom, points to the very human quality of the works. "No one looks at themselves proudly. They look at themselves introspectively. They show the bags under their eyes.

They show the fact that he's going bald. They're not puffing themselves up." The work, created toward the end of Bernini's life in 1680, feels remarkably contemporary. Here is an older man - contemplative, tired and maybe a little afraid at the inevitable approaching.

A work by David Hockney, installed nearby, has a similar close-up warts-and-all quality - only this self-portrait was made in 2012 on an iPad.

The earliest work in the exhibition is by an unknown artist. Dated circa 1460-80, it's a brush and ink drawing on blue prepared paper of a young student learning to draw; there's a dog curled up in the corner.

It's installed next to another dogthemed artwork. The Connoisseurs: Portrait of the Artist with two Dogs by Sir Edwin Landseer depicts Landseer, famous for his paintings of animals, holding an artwork, with two dogs looking over his shoulder at it.

The painting seems to be poking fun at so-called art connoisseurs, comparing them to dogs. The Queen, of course, is famously enraptured with her own dogs.

She also loves horses, and when she sat for Lucian Freud's portrait, they spent a lot of time talking about horse racing, Thom explained, as he stood by David Dawson's photo The Queen sits for Lucian Freud. The 2001 photo captures the Queen sitting for what would become Freud's famously controversial portrait (too small, too ugly, the criticism went). If you take a look at the 1996 Freud self-portrait elsewhere in this show, you might notice some resemblance between that self-portrait and his portrait of the Queen.

Freud likes to work with many sittings, Thom explained, but that wasn't in the cards. "Her Majesty only sat twice. In the interim, a member of the royal staff sat in the chair with the crown on her head."

The show is unquestionably malecentric, but there are some exquisite works by women.

The embroidery A Self-Portrait (1779) by Mary Knowles depicts Knowles embroidering a portrait of King George III. To be fully appreciated, this must be viewed up close.

Also, look for the loose thread - a wonderful touch. The embroidery is remarkably well preserved and in its original frame (there's a key that can open the glass, perhaps allowing a royal finger to feel the work firsthand).

Artemisia Gentileschi's Self-portrait as the Allegory of Painting (La Pittura) (c. 1638-39) was created by the 17thcentury Italian painter using a complex mirror set-up so she could capture herself at work. Gentileschi, the daughter of the Tuscan painter Orazio Gentileschi, is depicted mostly in the dark but with bright light illuminating her chest, right arm and forehead - as if to suggest she is emerging from her more famous father's shadow. The sleeves of her green silk dress are rolled up; she is equipped with brushes and a palette. "She's got her hand perched on the canvas; we don't know what she's about to do," Morton says.

"She's in that moment of capturing an idea, of starting to paint."

Gordon Smith, who lives in West Vancouver, B.C., is one of Canada's great painters. His new exhibition at the Vancouver Art Gallery recalls a terrible time in the country's history and his own. Gordon Smith: The Black Paintings reference his experiences in the Second World War, during which he served as an intelligence officer in Europe and was seriously wounded in 1943.

There is heartbreak in these dark, dense canvases - terror, sorrow, a visceral heaviness. The paintings, created between 1990 and 2017, are abstracted, with text and collage elements sometimes dropping hints.

The words "Pachino" and "Husky" refer to Smith's deployment on the beach Pachino on Sicily where he was severely wounded during Operation Husky. On other works, the word "Juno" appears; there are dates too. Some are painted on canvas tarpaulin made from Smith's army kit.

In Untitled (Infinity), 1991, thick paint weeps down the canvas and in the bottom right corner, next to his signature, there is his footprint in paint. Gordon Smith was here.

His use of colour booms against his dark canvases: fiery red burning into a crucifix-like figure; thick splatters of white; an almost soothing mess of purple and green.

Smith is a prolific painter and at 98, still consumed with it. At the media preview, Bartels told a story: Smith came to the gallery earlier this week to tour his own show and view another exhibition of Canadian painting. After they looked at the art, they sat down to lunch precisely at noon. At about five minutes to 1 p.m., he excused himself, Bartels recalled. "I have to go," he told them. "I have to go home and paint."

Portrait of the Artist: An Exhibition from the Royal Collection and Gordon Smith: The Black Paintings are at the VAG until Feb. 4.

Associated Graphic

Artemisia Gentileschi's self-portrait is on display at the Vancouver Art Gallery.


Alberta under the gavel
Luxury auction houses are increasingly helping owners in the western market divest their multimillion-dollar homes
Special to The Globe and Mail
Saturday, October 28, 2017 – Print Edition, Page S4

Canada's luxury real estate market is attracting the attention of high-end auction houses, eager to provide a fast sale for multimilliondollar-home owners struggling to sell in the conventional way. And Alberta's depressed housing market, paired with a landscape rich in custom-built megamansions, is already proving successful under the gavel.

"Calgary is a significant market for us because of its boom and bust cycle," says Murray Lange, Alberta business development officer for Florida-based Concierge Auctions. "During the boom times, people spend an exorbitant amount of money building big, customized, luxury properties, now we're in a more normalized market those homes aren't selling.

"There are 61 homes over $3-million on the market in Calgary today and only 13 sales so far this year. At the current rate of absorption, with no further listings, we've got a five-year supply. If you want to sell, there's huge competition; an auction can get you out in front of that market."

Concierge Auctions have sold more luxury real estate in Canada than any other auction house with 12 sales since November, 2013; eight of those sales have been in Alberta, with an average selling price of $2.4-million.

"Typically, properties we sell are upwards of $2-million and they're unique in some way, which means the buyer pool is shallower," says Mr. Lange, who sold his own home - a mansion in southwestern Calgary - via Concierge Auctions in June, 2016.

"Our home was custom built to suit our needs," he says. "Decisions we made during design had worked for us as a family, but made liquidity hard to achieve."

"We started the sales process with an ambitious list price in 2014," he continues. "The luxury market was still pretty good at that time but, after three price reductions in the first year, we fired our agent and appointed another. After another two price reductions and still no offers, we decided we needed a different solution."

Mr. Lange signed a deal to auction off his home to the highest bidder and, after a two-week marketing campaign, four bidders registered to compete for the home which sold for $2.5-million; it had previously been listed for $3.3-million.

It's a familiar story; in February this year, a custom-built estate home in Canmore - appraised at more than $4-million and on the market for more than three years - sold at auction for $2.4-million.

Most recently, in June, a sprawling six-bedroom inner-city Calgary penthouse - previously listed for $2.325-million - sold at auction for $1.3-million.

Trayor Lesnock, founder of Florida-based Platinum Luxury Auctions, one of North America's biggest auction houses, says the vast majority of auction sales come only after all other methods have been exhausted.

"Less than 5 per cent of our sellers bring their home to auction as a first option. The majority have checked all the other boxes first before they arrive at an auction because auctions generally drive more demanding terms in order to make it work," he says.

Earlier this month, Platinum Luxury Auctions embarked on a joint venture with the only auction house founded and based in Canada, Garage Sale. The partnership, which is expected to result in the acquisition of Garage Sale by Platinum Luxury Auctions, was launched with the joint sale of a sprawling, 15-acre Okanagan estate on Oct. 5. The home had been on the market for 15 years.

"The property actually set a new company record for us, being the longest listed property before auction," Mr. Lesnock says. "The last, expired, list price was $3.95-million and it was on the market at that price for a year with no offers."

A six-week marketing campaign produced 198 enquiries, 102 showings, seven bidders and, ultimately, a sale price of $3.3-million.

The sale is Platinum Luxury Auctions' second venture into the Canadian market; their first was an estate sale in Ontario's Thousand Islands a year ago, which established an all-time-high resale price for the area. The home had been listed at $22.9-million and sold at auction for $7-million.

The sale confirmed to Mr. Lesnock that the luxury real estate market in Canada was viable and spurred his search for a business partnership.

"We knew that to break into Canada would require more operating bandwidth, so acquiring Garage Sale is a great fit. We plan to do a lot more business in Canada and we'll be taking Garage Sale's direction on where we focus our efforts," he says.

Alex Lambert, founder of Garage Sale, says Alberta is a top priority for the newly partnered companies.

"We're 100 per cent looking at expanding into Alberta; it's where I grew up and I'm very familiar with the area. A lot of folks in oil and gas, farming and logging are already very familiar with auctions as a platform for handling multimil.

lion-dollar assets," he says. "Albertans are auction people and the real estate market there is certainly ready for innovation."

Since 2014, Garage Sale has sold five properties in the B.C.'s Okanagan and on Pender Island, including the recent estate sale with Platinum Luxury Auctions, but Mr. Lesnock says he doesn't believe that's where their next auction will come from.

"We don't believe Kelowna will be the next sale because the market just doesn't sell that many highpriced homes each year; the market can't absorb that many," he says. "I think we'll be looking in a different market area; Vancouver or Alberta most likely."

For Mr. Lambert, Alberta's landscape makes most sense.

"Alberta also has a lot of very large ranches which require a different strategy to sell them" he says. "This isn't cookie-cutter housing, it's often highly specialized and some of those projects will require a very custom approach, which is what we do."

Meanwhile, Mr. Lange says that while Alberta, and in particular Calgary, remains a key market for Concierge Auctions, they're also focusing on expanding their presence into more buoyant markets like Toronto and Vancouver.

"If you have a sought-after property in a hot market and you sell to one of the first buyers that comes along, in the conventional process, how would you know you'd achieved the best price for your property? Why not invite all the interested parties to compete in a transparent way and achieve the best price possible?" he asks. "We think this approach works for all areas of the luxury-home sector and we believe it's just a matter of time before it becomes a more mainstream way of selling in Canada."

Associated Graphic

This Calgary penthouse was sold via Concierge Auctions in June. 'Calgary is a significant market for us because of its boom and bust cycle,' says Murray Lange, the firm's business development officer.


More than two years ago, a bench-clearing brawl sent minor-leaguers from Surrey and their coach into a downward spiral. Now, the team is dealing with an unprecedented 84-game losing streak and enduring a call to have its franchise disbanded
Tuesday, November 14, 2017 – Print Edition, Page S1

SURREY -- Zakery Babin is under attack. Ten minutes after puck drop, the Surrey Knights goalie has been pelted by 15 shots. His team has not yet registered a single attempt on goal.

The Knights, in last place in the Pacific Junior Hockey League, are mired in an unprecedented losing skid that today stands at 84 games.

On this October evening in the Vancouver suburbs, Babin's agile play holds the score at zero against the defending league champion Aldergrove Kodiaks.

Midway through the game, a Kodiaks forward catapults Knights defenceman Ethan Koskelainen into the end boards from behind. Blood stains the ice.

While a trainer works on Koskelainen - the gash above the 18-yearold's right eye needs stitches and his left wrist might be fractured - there's a roar from the small crowd.

The Knights score on the power play to go up 1-0.

Koskelainen's mom wants to drive him to the hospital. His nose is dolloped in blood, a hockey Rudolph.

Another smear reddens his blond hair. "I'm fine," he tells his mom and insists he's staying to watch the rest of the game. Don Cherry would lionize this kid.

It was more than two years ago, September, 2015, when it started to go backward for the Knights. The team was losing to the Mission City Outlaws when the Outlaws went after a younger Knights player. A bench-clearing brawl ensued. Even the coaches got involved. John Craighead, the Knights coach, coowner and former minor-league tough guy, went to the Mission bench, intending to quell the fighting.

As the coaches jostled, an Outlaws player, not in uniform, intervened.

Craighead is alleged to have hit the player. The RCMP investigated but no charges were laid. BC Hockey, however, levied a suspension of six years. Under a pall - an exiled coach who'd once played a few games for the Toronto Maple Leafs - the Knights roster suffered defections and new players were reluctant to join the team. The on-ice product suffered. The last game the Knights won was on Nov. 19, 2015.

Last season, the Knights lost all 44 games. This past spring, Hockey Canada reviewed Craighead's sixyear suspension. It questioned the quality of BC Hockey's investigation and slashed Craighead's punishment. The PJHL then sought to expel the Knights franchise because it felt it tarnished the league. A league-organized hearing was held in August, but a decision was put on hold, as Craighead and the Knights had filed a civil suit in the Supreme Court of British Columbia to fight back to remain in the league. A complaint at the BC Human Rights Tribunal was also filed.

In the BC Supreme Court and the Human Rights Tribunal, Craighead will face the PJHL and its president, Ray Stonehouse. In a filing to the province's Human Rights Tribunal, it is alleged the efforts to punish Craighead and eject the Knights is "motivated, at least in part, by racial discrimination." Craighead is black and co-owner Amar Gill is Indo-Canadian.

Stonehouse declined comment.

George Cadman, the PJHL's lawyer, said a settlement was unlikely.

"This will undoubtedly proceed to court."

BC Hockey defends its suspension.

"Our investigation was a good investigation," BC Hockey chief executive Barry Petrachenko says.

Back at the North Surrey Recreational Centre, there is the possibility the losing streak could end. The Knights score again after their power-play goal. But as the second period ticks down, the Kodiaks strike with 12.7 seconds left to cut the lead to 2-1.

In a small conference room above and behind the Knights net, Craighead and Gill watch the game unfold.

"We're good hockey people," says Craighead, who was reinstated by Hockey Canada as team co-owner.

"Hockey's my life. Things got derailed. The franchise has paid a hefty price." Alongside the two owners is Laurence Gilman, a former Vancouver Canucks assistant general manager.

Gilman and Lorne Henning, another former Canucks executive, signed on in August to help the Knights with everything from management advice to mentoring coaches and players. It was an unlikely boost for a woebegone team.

"That's the best stretch we've played," Gilman says of the action on the ice, as the Knights hold their lead.

Tonight, Craighead, Gill and Gilman are having fun, joking and laughing, talking hockey. These guys, like the young men on the ice, love the game. Hockey nerds. The prospect of a win stokes the atmosphere. "I'd be very happy for the boys," Craighead says. Gilman foresees a difficult third period, as the Kodiaks stare at the ignominy of losing to the Surrey Knights. "This is going to be an onslaught."

The play on the ice has been sloppy and does not improve. The Knights' coaches, 23-year-old identical twin brothers Spencer and Scott McHaffie, are visibly agitated. The Kodiaks attack and tie the game.

With seven minutes on the clock, the Kodiaks score again to go ahead.

The momentum has turned, and Knights end up losing 5-3, their 79th loss in a row.

"Just not good enough," a deflated Gill says.

"Welcome to our world," Craighead says. "Well, you can write it was a close game."

In a cramped Knights locker room, the coaches rally. "Stay positive," Spencer McHaffie urges. "The way you guys are working, the way you guys are battling, it's only a matter of time."

The funk of losing dissipates and jocular camaraderie returns. The teenagers are laughing and shouting.

Outside the room, Koskelainen is ready to head to the hospital. "I don't think there's any reason to stop grinding," he says. "We have nothing to lose now. That's motivation for every game."

"Tiring - and frustrating," says Babin, 20, when asked what it's like to face 50-plus shots a night. "It would be nice to get a win."

Babin has played third-tier junior hockey in small towns in the B.C.

Interior and in Atlanta. He was hurt in a car accident last year and missed the season. But he got a chance to play again when the Knights called this summer. He hopes his play propels him to college hockey.

"The ideal school is the University of [Nevada] Las Vegas. That'd be cool," Babin says. "Or, literally, anywhere."

Constant losing has not yet worn him down.

"It's nice to be playing again," Babin says. "I'm not going to stop until it's not an option. It's still hockey, right?"

Associated Graphic

Surrey Knights goalie Zakery Babin looks on as North Vancouver Wolf Pack players celebrate a goal in Surrey, B.C., on Oct. 26.


Ethan Koskelainen of the Surrey Knights holds a towel to his head as trainer John Chwyl checks on him after he was cut above the eye and injured his wrist in a game in Surrey, B.C., on Oct. 19.


The changing face of U Sports coaching
The Canadian Press
Thursday, November 16, 2017 – Print Edition, Page S1

TORONTO -- Charles Kissi has guided Brock's men's basketball team to an undefeated season so far, and his team holds down the No. 2 spot in this week's Canadian university rankings.

But Kissi still gets mistaken for anybody but the Badgers' head coach.

Chris Cheng assembled a Nipissing squad from scratch when he was hired as the program's inaugural head coach in 2013, and boasts a substantial background with both Canada and Ontario Basketball's youth programs. Yet, the Filipino coach consistently gets confused for the team manager or therapist.

"I'm Asian, and not very tall," Cheng said. "So they'll come up and say, 'Where's the head coach?' 'I am the head coach.' " Basketball is among the most ethnically diverse in Canadian university sport, yet the sideline hasn't reflected it. Still, more than half a century after the game made its U Sports debut, the coaching landscape is finally changing. And this season's nine minority men's head coaches are quietly applauding.

"In the end, the game doesn't have any colour, you just play because you love the sport," said Patrick Tatham, McMaster's new head coach. "But literally, I kid you not, at one point - no ifs, ands or maybes - literally all I knew was Roy Rana [Ryerson] and the coach at Brandon University [Gil Cheung]."

Kissi's hiring in 2013 made it three.

Six more minority head coaches have been hired in the past two years - including four this season - bringing the total to nine of U Sports' 47 men's head coaches. The others are Justin Serresse (Laurier), Darrell Glenn (UPEI), Nate Philippe (York) and Mario Joseph (UQAM).

"That's pretty cool, that's super high," said Tatham, who didn't believe the number was as high as nine - he requested the list be read aloud on a recent phone interview.

"The game is played on such a diverse level now, and there's no reason for our coaches not to reflect that," said Kissi, who's writing a paper on the subject as part of his master of education program.

Still, Kissi and his colleagues say there's a long way to go.

"Oh man, I get the 'Oh, you're the head coach?' like every week," Kissi said, laughing at the skepticism. "I get it all the time, that's the norm.

"I'm never going to say people come from a place of malice, but we carry our biases with us everywhere, all the time. We have to be aware of them, regardless of who we are. But yeah, I get that kind of stuff all the time. All the time."

Rana says he was an "out-of-thebox" hiring by Ryerson, when the school named him head coach in 2009. The Toronto native guided Canada's under-19 team to its history World Cup win last summer, and recently made history as the first visible minority and Indo-Canadian to be named head coach of Canada's senior squad. Rana will head up the Canadian team in its first two World Cup qualifying games next week.

The changing face of Canadian coaching was a long time coming.

"When you're in the business of coaching, you're in the business of trying to make young people's dreams come true, help them aspire to achieve. And it's important that they can see this potential to achieve in all areas in sport, not just as a player, that there are opportunities for them in coaching, that there are opportunities for them in sport administration," said Rana, whose Rams were runners-up to powerhouse Carleton in last season's national final. "And I think for a long time, many in our basketball community have not felt that way.

They haven't felt like that's a realistic option.

"So I think what we're seeing, this trend of increased diversity in our coaching ranks, is a great thing."

Tatham, who earned national coach of the year in 2016 (he was Ryerson's head coach while Rana took a year's sabbatical), played college basketball at Cleveland State University. He didn't think twice about the diversity of coaches in the NCAA.

But the percentage of minority coaches in NCAA basketball is on the decline, falling to about 21 per cent in Division 1 from a high of 25.2 per cent in 2005-06.

That's despite the fact almost 70 per cent of Division 1 players are non-white. U Sports doesn't keep statistics on ethnicity in athletes.

Coaching icon Steve Konchalski, who's had a first-hand view of the cultural landscape in his 43 seasons at the helm of St. Francis Xavier, applauds the improvement in U Sports.

"But at the same time, in the States it looked headed in the right direction, then started going the other way," the Canadian Basketball Hall of Famer said. "So I still think it's something that needs to be addressed."

The bump in U Sports, Konchalski said, was more organic than because of any organized effort, and in his role as a mentor coach and adviser to Canada's national team, he'd like to help develop a more formalized pathway to guide minority coaches.

The NCAA has the National Association for Coaching Equity and Development, and coaches have pressed for the adoption of the "Rooney Rule," an NFL policy that requires teams to interview minority candidates for head coaching and senior football operation jobs.

"It's kind of the standard ... that at least there's some concerted effort, some recognition of the fact that you have a sport where minorities comprise a major percentage of the athletes, then there should be a somewhat similar proportion of coaches," Konchalski said.

Cheng, who's been coaching since he was 16, credits the birth of the NBA's Toronto Raptors for helping increase the diversity of the game.

"[Basketball] brings different types of cultures together, it brings a sense of community - that's the sport of basketball," Cheng said.

"It's very rare that Filipinos play basketball at the next level, so I hope I am [a role model] with my culture.

"But I have no control over that.

It's just doing the best I can at what I love doing. Obviously there are a lot of doubters and naysayers because of my ethnic background, people don't take me seriously. But all I've got to worry about is the people that I coach. As long as I get their respect, that's all that matters to me."

Associated Graphic

Roy Rana, the head coach for Ryerson's men's basketball squad, guided Canada's under-19 team to its history World Cup win last summer and recently made history as the first visible minority and Indo-Canadian to be named head coach of Canada's senior squad.


Zimbabwe erupts in jubilation as Mugabe steps down
Cities across country celebrate as news spreads that after 37 years in power, dictator is out. Within days, army's chosen successor will assume presidency, Geoffrey York reports from Harare
Wednesday, November 22, 2017 – Print Edition, Page A1

After 37 years of dictatorship and misrule, Robert Mugabe has resigned as Zimbabwe's president.

His resignation letter was read to a joint sitting of both houses of Zimbabwe's parliament on Tuesday afternoon, barely an hour after members had begun debating a motion to impeach him.

Within moments, Harare erupted into wild and riotous celebrations.

Other Zimbabwean cities quickly followed.

Hundreds of thousands of people flocked into Harare's streets, from one end of the capital to the other.

Six hours later, they were still partying. They whooped, danced, cheered, sang, waved flags, honked car horns and propped themselves dangerously out of car windows to scream at passing motorists. Even in remote suburbs, people came out of their homes to dance on the sides of the streets with music blaring.

"He's gone, he's gone, he'll never come back," one group of Zimbabweans sang ecstatically.

"Let him go, let him go," another group sang.

Several young women carried a huge Zimbabwean flag and sang a traditional song from the country's war of liberation in the 1970s. "You have lost," they sang, celebrating their victory over the dictator.

People carried placards reading, "Mugabe, you're snookered" and "Mugabe, go home and rest!" Excited crowds had gathered outside the parliamentary session even before the impeachment debate had begun.

Mr. Mugabe will be replaced by Emmerson Mnangagwa, a former spy chief and defence minister with close ties to the military. He is expected to be sworn in as president on Wednesday or Thursday.

It is unclear whether Mr. Mugabe will stay in Zimbabwe or go into exile in another country.

Despite the ruling party's attempts to portray it as voluntary, Mr. Mugabe's resignation was a direct response to the military coup launched in Harare last Wednesday.

The military takeover led swiftly to the arrest and expulsion of Mr. Mugabe's strongest supporters in the ruling party, ZANU-PF, leaving his rivals in full control of the party and government. The party then demanded Mr. Mugabe's resignation. He wavered at first, delivering a rambling and confused speech to the country on Sunday before finally recognized the writing on the wall.

Zimbabwe's military commanders are trying hard to portray this as a constitutional and legal change of leadership. They could be deprived of international recognition and foreign loans if the takeover is acknowledged as a coup. But there is no doubt that Mr. Mugabe's resignation was a response to the armoured vehicles and soldiers that seized every key point in Harare last week.

The soldiers arrested all of Mr. Mugabe's key allies and put the president under house arrest.

Before the coup, Mr. Mugabe had been planning to run for election again next year, potentially keeping him in power to the age of 99.

The dramatic events began on Tuesday afternoon, when Zimbabwe's parliamentarians began the process of impeaching the president. The parliamentary houses were debating the impeachment motion, which appeared to be unanimously supported, when there was an unexpected interruption.

Two cabinet ministers brought a document to Jacob Mudenda, the parliamentary Speaker. Opposition MPs feared it was a court injunction from Mr. Mugabe to shut down the impeachment process.

Opposition MP Nelson Chamisa rushed to the Speaker's chair to try to prevent him from cutting short the session. When he realized it was a resignation letter, he pumped his fist triumphantly in the air and other MPs and senators began to realize what was happening.

Minutes later, Mr. Mudenda read the full text of the resignation letter and the parliamentarians exploded into cheers and roars of triumph. Some leaped on their desks.

In the public gallery, hundreds of spectators burst into wild applause.

Some chanted "Ngwena, Ngwena" which translates to "Crocodile" - Mr. Mnangagwa's nickname.

Few Zimbabweans are expecting an era of full democracy or full human rights under the militarybacked government that is likely to emerge. But at a minimum, they hope for ec