Callum's ASTU Blog

3. Do an end-of-year reflection. This is your last blog! What stands out for you from the year? What are your parting thoughts?

As the school year draws to a close, I am entering a stage of reflection for all of the unique experiences I have gathered thus far as a first year student at the University of British Columbia. Overall, when evaluating how my first year went, there are notable changes that are immediately distinguishable as meaningful adjustments to my life: moving into residence, playing my first year of soccer at the university (and the difficulty that came with nursing an injury), as well as all the newfound relationships that I was fortunate to make along the way. From an external perspective, my academic experience truly felt like a blur; syncing myself to the workload and classroom expectations took some serious acclimatization, particularly due to my previous school year which had dampened the intensity of the assignments (because of the pandemic’s influence). 

In all honesty, I remember feeling unreservedly intimidated after the first few weeks of schooling; I didn’t properly know how to engage in the scholarly conversation and I frequently found some of the various readings across the CAP stream to be quite difficult. In addition, I had this overriding sensation that I was the only one feeling these insecurities and that everyone else in the stream was fully accustomed to the novel duties as a first year student. I vividly remember feeling like I was on a roller coaster of responsibility, having either just completed an assignment (or exam), or just beginning the process of starting out on another one. At first, this sensation was overwhelming and finding the right balance between the contrasting aspects of my life was hard to maintain.

However, as with most challenges, over time they become easier. I soon gained invaluable tactics that I had not previously learned to deploy in high school. The likes of calendars, pro-active emails and scheduled study sessions helped greatly in my overall ability to communicate and organize my schedule. I found with more experience, I was able to comfortably engage in a broad variety of topics throughout the scholarly conversation. I enjoyed the fact that ASTU was a year round course, as I felt that it allowed me to establish myself as a student with a voice and become educated about the required responsibilities of the course. Furthermore, I found the learning pod process to be enriching, as it not only allowed for deeper discussion on the chosen topics, but it also provided a space for me to assess how other students were managing with similar responsibilities (forming connections through relatability). Through these natural processes, all aspects of my life seemingly clicked, and the process became much more enjoyable and manageable.    

Overall, I thoroughly appreciated my first year experience at UBC. I underwent the common process of situating myself to a new environment, and over time my routine grew instinctive and felt rather engaging. The most enriching part of the journey was the sensation of rising to the challenge and thriving. It delivered a sense of security that I didn’t initially possess, proving that growth does occur when faced with a tough challenge. In addition, the demands of this first year has personally newly installed a fundamental ability to manage time to a greater extent; a skill which will presumably be very valuable to have in the future. I am grateful for all of the experiences and connections I have made thus far, and I am truly excited for the years to come at this wonderful university.    

1. I would love to hear about what you are learning in your other classes — particularly your CAP classes–that intersect with the topics in ASTU 100. Write about a connection that you can find between our material and something else you have learned this year.

Significantly, across the CAP classes at The University of British Columbia, there are a notable number of extensive connections between the main themes of the courses. When evaluating the various course content on a broader spectrum, there continues to be a distinct focus on an individual’s influence over society, and how the actions of a single person can create a ripple effect that affects an entire society (both in a positive and negative way). 

To specify, I found a relevant connection between my CAP Geography, Modernity and Globalization class and our ASTU class, as both courses attempt to place an emphasis on the importance of narrative, in order to try and understand the life experiences (and potential struggles) of a person that comes from an unfamiliar background. In particular, one of our Geography course lessons focused on how the global commodity supply chain produces ideas of commodity fetishism (as coined by philosopher Karl Marx). This concept fails to acknowledge the hard work of foreign workers in the supply chain, as our own greed and addictive personalities value the acquisition of new products before securing the wellbeing of the labourers who manufactured them. To extrapolate, our inability to recognize the dedicated time and effort of various foreign workers, leads to an unrealistic interpretation of what truly goes into making the products that seemingly “show up” on our doorsteps. Our Geography professor made sure to stress the importance of acknowledging the ways in which our privileged lives interact with other groups of less privilege, in order to reconstruct narratives that have further expanded societal entitlement. He concentrated on the importance of self-evaluation, in hopes of regaining a newfound understanding regarding the primary impact that our misconstrued narratives have upon the lives of others. 

Personally, I immediately connected this particular idea to the themes that have been explored in our ASTU class, and how our various readings such as “Redeployment” by Phil Klay, “Indian Horse” by Richard Wagamese and “The Best We Could Do” by Thi Bui, all attempt to challenge our own personal narratives, in relation to the polarized groups of society whose struggles are often misunderstood. In the ASTU class, these texts have each given us a different story and narrative that we might not have previously engaged in. By learning about different narratives that are not similar to our own, I believe that we grow as scholars, since it confronts our previous biases and presumptions about others. This is where we see a special overlap between both classes, as the similar course content inspires students to empathize and engage in stories that are contrary to our own, forming a connection that brings together different groups of people.      

I have enjoyed learning about the importance of understanding other narratives that are dissimilar to our own, as studying the contrasting experiences of others is principally consequential when it comes to deconstructing systems that favor specific narratives and/or groups of privilege.

Above: The Reconciliation Pole as pictured on a sunny Friday Morning

Everyday as I walk to my morning coffee, I pass by a grand and intricately designed symbolic piece of art: The Reconciliation Pole of UBC. It stands proudly as a structure that was fabricated through raw, genuine Indigenous imagery at the hands of master carver 7idansuu (Edenshaw), James Hart, with support from the Musqueam Nation of Vancouver. While many students mindfully relax in the green space underneath its shadow, the incredibly significant message regarding its creation is still relatively unknown, excluding its visual appeal as a landmark on campus. Seen in complex detail across the sculpture, a story of the past is illustrated; depicted through images of brutal residential school buildings and uniformed children forced to rely on each other’s support in the absence of  a meaningful parental influence. Yet, as one gazes higher up the pole, the family is reunited with their children, displaying themes of strength and belonging. At the pinnacle of this landmark, an eagle overlooks the campus, representing “power, togetherness, determination and speaks to a sustainable direction forward”.  Erected in 2017, this pole was constructed in hopes of shedding an accurate and meaningful light on the dark past of the residential schooling system and the perpetual impact of settler colonialism, which continually proliferates ideas of white settler futurity across the societies of Canada. Furthermore, it stands as a beacon for change that strives for a future of cultural acceptance, while engaging in the process of rebuilding a once tarnished relationship with the Musqueam Nation.

Above left: A detailed description about the Reconciliation Pole, including a diagram to inform readers about its creation story and purpose.

Above right: The intricate carvings of wood at the base of the pole

As observed in the CCEL presentation, an overlap between various story forms can be combined to compose an impactful movement for change, “When it comes to changing the values, mindsets, rules and goals of a system, story is foundational” (Saltmarshe, Ella). In the case of the UBC Reconciliation Pole, this landmark exemplifies the struggle for Indigneous land sovereignty and social equality within our nation. This vehement visual piece of art draws empathy from the viewers, informs us about the issue of Indigenous diaspora and elimination across our society, while allowing for cultural narratives to be heard through the intimate relationship that the carver has with his own Indigenous roots. In addition, The Reconciliation Pole points us towards the Indian Residential School History and Dialogue Centre on campus which provides a space for students to appropriately educate themselves about the Truth and Reconciliation Movement. If one truly engages with this meaningful landmark, a new perspective regarding the bleak reality of Indigenous inequality across Canada can be established, appropriately allowing us to situate ourselves within the Indigenous struggle for recognition and justice. 

Unfortunately, in my opinion, The Reconciliation Pole is often overlooked and misinterpreted by the public eye for solely being an appealing piece of art. Abominably, this landmark has been vandalized by students in the past; a disrespectful act that indicates the missing maturity that is required when engaging with such a delicate topic. In order for the UBC community to properly immerse themselves within the reconciliation process, I believe that there should be frequent events based on accurately telling the story of this sincere landmark, in relation to the Musqueam Nation’s history in Canada. In addition, the location of the totem pole could be situated in the heart of the campus to garner the attention/recognition it deserves as an integral part of UBC’s history. I believe that this spot should be treated with the utmost respect; not a place to throw a frisbee around, but rather a place to commemorate, reflect upon and learn from. In short, The Reconciliation Pole deserves to be a venerated spot on campus.

Brief video of the sheer size of the pole: IMG_4315

Works Cited

“Open Letter: Reconciliation Pole Vandalized on Eve of Second Anniversary.” Indigenous Portal, 13 Feb. 2020, https://indigenous.ubc.ca/2019/04/01/open-letter-reconciliation-pole-vandalized-on-eve-of-second-anniversary/.  

Saltmarshe, Ella. “Using Story to Change Systems.” Stanford Social Innovation Review, 2018. https://doi.org/10.48558/4FVN-0333. 

UBC Plaque 2017-Reconciliation Pole-8 – Indigenous Portal. https://aboriginal-2018.sites.olt.ubc.ca/files/2017/10/UBC_Plaque_2017-Reconciliation_Pole-8-1.pdf. 

“What Is the Reconciliation Pole?” Student Services, 5 Mar. 2020, https://students.ubc.ca/ubclife/what-reconciliation-pole.  

For this blog post, I have chosen to analyze and perform a close reading on the brief two page panel found on pages 92-93 of this graphic narrative (as seen below). 

https://www.vulture.com/2017/03/thi-bui-best-we-could-do-refugee-comic.html  

While reading, this part of the book struck a chord deep within, as I believe that it holds an immense prevalence across every society in the world. Depicted through the raw and unashamedly honest panels of her graphic narrative, the main character Thi Bui attempts to connect with her father Bố on a meaningful level, in hopes of understanding who he truly is and what factors played a role in his development as a man. Their relationship has been a cloudy, confused dynamic, filled with frustration as a result of Bui’s inconsistent spurts of unleashed anger. His negative presence in her life is a puzzle she previously couldn’t solve, as she reflects on the intrinsic fear once felt when in his company. This section of the book deals with the universal disconnect that can occur in families when parents carry the burden of traumatizing past experiences. It touches on the theme of cultural memory and how certain members of a family unload their past troubles onto others, without actually including them within the full scope of the memory. 

An immediate connection to Thi’s relationship with Bố can be made when examining the damaged Indigenous communities of Canada. The horrors of the residential schooling system continues to affect present Indigenous generations through indirect processes such as neglect and alcohol/drug abuse, which subsequently forms broken, incongruous homes. Similarly to the Indigenous community’s reconciliation process within Canada, by reading this narrative, we witness how Vietnamese immigrant families also deal with generational conflicts caused by a history of violence and difficulty. On page 93 of the text, this phenomena is described as “wounds beneath wounds”, an interesting visualization of the complicated and delicate layers that contribute to one’s past trauma.

Positively, as a reader we are exposed to some of the tactics that allow children like Thi, to become included in the significant cultural memories that have shaped the aura of her father’s personality. On page 92, Thi concludes “it took a long time to learn the right questions to ask”, proving that one can begin to rebuild a disconnected relationship by listening, instead of demanding answers. In the right context, these cultural memories are ready to be shared by Bố; a form of healing that reconnects and educates Thi about his past experiences, while providing answers to some of her questions regarding his harsh persona. Once Thi started asking the right questions, “the stories poured forth” (93), showing that even aloof characters like Bố, have a perspective to share with others. 

In Phil Klay’s “Redeployment”, we are educated about the importance of purposeful conversation between contrasting groups/individuals. By asking questions that provide space for real, unsweetened stories to be told, true growth can occur. On a lesser scale, Thi’s attempt to relate her experiences to her father’s, is similar to the civilian-soldier relationship imitated by Phil Klay, as both relationships struggle to bridge the unrelatable gap of trauma. In “The Best We Could” by Thi Bui, the importance of perspective is depicted through Thi’s growing ability to compare and understand multiple narratives, without personally experiencing them. Notably, this tool connects her with cultural memories and strengthens her bond with other members of her family.

2. The Reluctant Fundamentalist was written in 2007 and directly addresses elements of post-9/11 culture. Does the book feel relevant in 2021? Can you identify with Changez or with the book’s message about suspicion and trust?

The Reluctant Fundamentalist by Mohsin Hamid addresses topics of subtle and extreme forms of discrimination, which are fundamentally based upon unjust prejudices within society. When looking through a historical lens, the recurrence of division between various groups in society is notably woven into the natural existence of mankind. Furthermore, most (if not all) of these examples of segregation begin with themes of suspicion and mistrust between the opposing groups. Therefore, I believe that the elements of the post 9/11 culture addressed in this book will unfortunately continue to hold relevance within society, as there will seemingly always be acts of severance between contrasting groups. However, this isn’t to say that the themes of uncertainty and fear that came to fruition immediately after the 9/11 attacks currently carry the same potency regarding the dominant lifestyle that dictates society. Principally, the overwhelming sensation of Islamophobia no longer impacts Western societies to the same extent that it once did after 9/11, since cultural fear slowly subsides over time, as it gets continually harder to justify discriminatory behaviour (due to the limited examples of Muslim immigrants who engage in terrorism). While at no point am I arguing that Islamophobia no longer exists within society, I believe that the instant relatability surrounding the context of “The Reluctant Fundamentalist” was more prominent in a society that was still healing from the concrete societal divisions caused by the 9/11 attacks. 

Nevertheless, direct correlations between themes of suspicion and mistrust can be connected within our current society in 2021. When addressing topics of ingrained discrimination, my mind immediately jumps to the culture of fear that was produced during the COVID-19 Pandemic. Similar to the post 9/11 culture, a disastrous world event occurred and subsequently created an overriding wave of uncertainty within communities across the globe. Just like the story of Changez in The Reluctant Fundamentalist, specific ethnic groups were targeted based on their visible appearance and potential connection to the cause of the problem. Specifically, there was an increase in Anti-Asian racism across North America, simply because Wuhan, China was where the COVID-19 pandemic initially started (https://www.hrw.org/news/2020/05/12/covid-19-fueling-anti-asian-racism-and-xenophobia-worldwide#). Asian-Americans who completely integrated with the structural norms of society were subject to vicious racially-motivated attacks, due to the mistrust that certain parts of the population now felt towards the Asian community. As witnessed through Mohsin Hamid’s book, our society “scapegoats” different groups as a way to compartmentalize and cope with the overwhelming fear that is produced during major world catastrophes. 

On a lesser scale, I too can relate to the cultural fear that was developed during the pandemic. Although my suspicions were never related to any specific racial identity, swirling conspiracy theories regarding the creation of the pandemic and its actual severity, definitely impacted the ways in which I interacted with the global issue. Personally, a lack of trust towards the government was also developed, as our society was often promised reduced lockdowns that never seemed to truly occur. Society went into a frenzy, with the trend “panic hoarding” leaving grocery stores depleted and as well as inconsistent rules which created divisions within the population. Through the unfolding of this pandemic, citizens have demonstrated the profound impact that the culture of fear can have on our ability to think rationally. During these times, the unjustifiable somehow seems to become justifiable (to many) and awful detachments between societal groups can occur. As seen through the connection between the novel, suspicion and mistrust still are relevant themes in society today and are capable of producing biased forms of segregation without any concrete evidence to justify these behaviours.

In this second blog post, the opening six paragraphs of the essay “I Can Spin Some Bullshit If You Want”: Narrating (and Bridging?) The Civil-Military Divide in Phil Klay’s Redeployment (https://journal-veterans-studies.org/articles/10.21061/jvs.v6i1.139/) will be analyzed and contextualized in order to truly understand the message behind Gauthier’s piece of writing, and how he builds off of the work of Klay to form his own conclusions. 

After reading and annotating Gauthier’s interpretation of Klay’s story, it is noticeable that Gauthier intends to focus on the deeper topic beneath the term of “bullshit” that frequently reappears throughout ‘Redeployment” (https://www.amazon.ca/Redeployment-Phil-Klay/dp/1594204993). Gauthier’s willingness to uncover the relevance behind the repeated use of this term struck my interest, as during my reading of the story, I also felt that the veteran’s use of “bullshit” didn’t elaborate or even explain the context of the situation to the reader. Unlike Klay, in Gauthier’s summary, he focuses upon the civil-military divide that exists within our society. He examines how this meaningless connection is generated by a mutual responsibility to engage in a topic that neither involved individual knows how to properly navigate or understand. 

This particular discomfort with truly confronting the brutality of war, reminded me of the show “Homeland” (https://www.amazon.com/Homeland-Season-1/dp/B008QTV3X0), and how returning soldier, Nicholas Brody, is simply unable to go into detail about his time overseas with his wife, Jessica Brody.  One would imagine that in the comfort and privacy of his own home, Brody would be able to confide in his dedicated wife by sharing the horrors of torture, death and isolation, however, this disconnect between civilian and soldier is magnified by the shallowness of their conversations about his experience. 

In his essay, Gauthier dives into the intricacy of this dynamic involving two different perspectives, as the veteran struggles to convey the reality of his past experiences to the civilian, and the civilian has no personal connection to the war. This creates a sense of disinterest that hinders the average civilian’s capacity to retain relevant knowledge about war, from a veteran who has undergone such unthinkable conditions. Upon reflecting on Klay’s eye-opening story of Redeployment, Tim Gauthier boldly states, “it matters little to them whether these wars end or not”. In my opinion, this idea happens to be the most significant of his thoughts and serves as the real message behind this introduction. As readers, we can now see the prominent issue that stems from having an inability to connect our own lives/narratives with the completely contrasting viewpoints of veterans: as a society, we don’t care whether the wars overseas happen or not. Gauthier touches on how citizens only seem to pay attention to soldiers during obligatory moments of remembrance (baseball games, communal events etc). He uses the term “alienated group” to describe the military and returning soldiers, which paints an ugly truth about the unity of our society today. This general theme of failing to remember our soldiers overseas, begs the question as to why our society still feels the need to participate in these wars.

To summarize, I feel that Gauthier used Klay’s example of the term “bullshit” to draw upon the civil-military divide between citizens and veterans. From there, I interpret the deeper meaning of this relationship to serve as an indication of how our society is forgetting about the importance/meaning of the wars overseas. In order to rebuild this connection between the general public and the military, veterans need to feel like their opinions will be properly heard and respected (allowing them to elaborate further than just the term “bullshit”).

Welcome to my first blog post!

Dear Reader, 

I welcome you to the first blog post on this newly established page that breaks down lectures and course content in the ASTU 100 class at the University of British Columbia while analyzing their purpose in society.

To begin this post, I wanted to revisit the general theme of the “Sea Prayer” video by Khaled Hosseini (https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=LKBNEEY-c3s), and how its portrayal of the refugee crisis overseas allowed the viewers to truly connect themselves to a brutal reality that can often feel so distant and irrelevant to our own lives. Most importantly, I want to draw upon how the relatable tone, insightful dialogue and beautiful, raw imagery of the video was able to transport the audience into the small shoes of young Marwan, allowing us to receive meaningful knowledge in regards to the agonizing truth behind the story. The humanistic approach that Hosseini painted this harrowing picture with, brought a sense of empathy, understanding and compassion that is often neglected in our interpretations of foreign issues today.

(Above: Body of Alan Kurdi, a Syrian toddler who sadly died as a refugee trying to flee his homeland (https://www.npr.org). The boat that Kurdi was on capsized on its way to the Greek Island of Kos. This famous image of Alan is known to be a key factor into why Hosseini made the “Sea Prayer” video).  

As the ASTU course content now shifts into topics such as the “War On Terror” and the bitter reality of being a soldier in a war overseas, a relevant analysis can be made if we dissect society’s modern image of a “soldier” and how this depiction can often be misconstrued. Due to the current, false representation of a soldier, there is a disconnect between the public opinion of the army and the actual role they play in the wars of today. As mentioned in class by Ms. Luger, in today’s society returning soldiers are perceived and acknowledged as heros when they come back home from a mission. As seen in the viral videos on the internet, returning soldiers are treasured by family members, schools, and the foundational institutions of society that influence public opinion. In the Western World, army members are praised for their great work overseas, given medals of honour and are treated with lifetime respect for their role in war. This general mentality of “us against them” ties into the overall perception of the west’s involvement in the Middle Eastern Wars, as “It was about Americans coming together to fight against the terrorists, the enemy, and “the other.” (Amy summarized during the Learning Groups, LP Report _2_ Sep24 editied.page). But as this blog post deliberately set out to question, are these traditional methods of decorating our returning soldiers justified, or is there another side of the story that needs to be told, in order to truly portray the humanistic reality of life at war? To skim the upper layer of a topic so vast, one can look at the immediate alienation of Middle Easterns during the 9/11 aftermath. A clear line in the sand was drawn between good and evil, with westerners strongly believing that their troops were firmly situated on the right side. In the first snippet of the book “Redeployment” (file:///Users/callumyoung44/Downloads/187261–redeployment–astu100g022021w1-21styearcapseminar–c%20(3).pdf), it’s quite obvious that our soldiers were not as angelic as the general public has grown to believe, through the viral videos and celebratory medals of honour, “We shot dogs. Not by accident. We did it on purpose, and we called it Operation Scooby.” (Page 1, of Redeployment by Phil Klay). Truthfully, war has left a grim stain on the complex history of humanity, and rarely involves completely good and completely bad sides. As this course further dives into the sickening intricacy of war and what horrors really occur out on the battlefield, Khaled Hosseini would hope for us all to use a lens of sympathy and understanding when delving into the reasoning behind the “War on Terror” and who the real enemy is. This isn’t a topic that can simply be solved by one answer, but if our society as a whole can initiate a period of deep reflection regarding the western world’s role in the destruction of the Middle East, the sooner peace agreements can be made to benefit both sides involved.

As ex-president of The United States, Barack Obama, once said:

“Learning to stand in somebody else’s shoes, to see through their eyes, that’s how peace begins. And it’s up to you to make that happen. Empathy is a quality of character that can change the world.”

(https://obamawhitehouse.archives.gov/realitycheck/the-press-office/remarks-president-barack-obama-student-roundtable-istanbul).