I don’t know where to begin so I guess I’ll just jump right in. I want to talk about race. Better yet, I want to talk about racism. When I talk about racism, I am talking more specifically about white supremacy in the United States of America.
It is hard to talk about this stuff for many reasons. For one, all the terms are disputable to some degree. Secondly, there are dual risks that people feel. On the one hand, people feel threatened by racism itself. This is the most important risk, I think, because ignoring this risk would undo the whole thing, assuming that we want to oppose racism and white supremacy. On the other hand, people who may not feel threatened by racism directly, feel threatened by being perceived to be a racist. They may not feel like they are directly threatened by racism but they do feel like they don’t want to fall into the category of being a racist. They want to be good or at least not so bad as to be a racist. This group seems less morally at risk to me, but I do think we can see why they feel this way. I think this hooded shame of being seen as a racist is a good thing because grave moral evil ought to produce guilt and fear.
When you put together the sense of urgency by the one directly threatened by racism and the other one’s fear of being perceived as racist and add to that the disputable terms, it is hard to communicate. This is all subjective and can shift around. There are even little subgroups with their own unique threats and fears and risks. The very idea of race is also slippery. Truth be told, we do not have a full grasp of what race, ethnicity, identity and more are. Some people like to jump on this lack of precision to sow doubt into the whole thing. Others double-down and end up in overly rigid positions that exclude real people, including themselves. I could go on and on. There is nothing easy here.
At the exact same time, we must be willing to accept the reality of racism and, in our time and place in the USA, white supremacy. There is no room to ignore or minimize this reality. It may be hard to figure out in the abstract or amongst different personal interests, but it is plain to see in the historical past and present. When you see someone who has collapsed and is unconscious, you do not need to know who they are exactly and you do not need to understand the nature of consciousness to accept the reality in front of you and the moral responsibility it entails. No one who sees someone who appears to be severely hurt should be skeptical or cynical about the appearance. Even if the reality is different, the demand of the appearance is nothing to scoff at.
Today we have seen plenty of reality and some try to throw tiny disputes of appearance at that. You cannot needle-away Chattel Slavery, Jim Crow, and their strange fruit. An entire decade of vandals and looters and rioters would never erase the legal sale of people and their legal degradation across nearly two centuries of a nation not yet three centuries old. Economic depression and loss of capital gains and even personal property will fare poorly in the moral court where people were once actual property, valued as capital, and denied access to anything of their own of proportional value to those they joined as free people.
I do not need to know who I am or what my exact ethnic and racial identity is or what the concept of race means or what the nature of “a people” or “a nation” is to see the all-too-often socially unconscious reality of racism, buoyed by historical racial prejudice and imaged and voiced by the recent anti-Black events we have seen in horror. The complexity of race is not an excuse to delay addressing racism directly. Most of all, the harm and injury to the person who is unconscious on the ground is not morally about you. The only person who might hesitate to help the injured person is the one who injured them in the first place.
The point I am making is that Black Lives Matter. This is about race, racism, and white supremacy. It is also about other things. It is also NOT about some things. What is most important to me, however, is that we realize that these three words are the anthem, they are the refrain. They are not enough but they are something and the truth they point to is hard to deal with. It is painful. It extends well beyond Black people without decentering them and their place in this nation. Imagine the tragedy of needing to say to people, “I, too, am a person.” When you hear this tragic song and join the singing, you do not lose your personhood, you only regain a sister and a brother.
Black Lives Matter is an anthem meant to dismantle white supremacy, it is the same song of freedom that Black is Beautiful and so many other refrains have resounded in the past. Everyone should sing this anthem. For some of us, we will sing it for the ones we love who are not ourselves. For some of us, we will sing it with shame and remorse for our sins and our faults. I know I will sing it that way. Some of us will sing it as an act of penance and a plea for forgiveness. Those who refuse to sing, who say “I have nothing to confess,” they are the ones who need to hear it most. Or, perhaps, those of us who sing Black Lives Matter sing it so that our beautiful Black brothers and sisters can hear it sung in a different voice and know that they do not sing alone this time.
What I am trying to say is that I do not deny how tricky and complicated and difficult this issue is. I relish digging into it. My own life story is fraught and mixed and, often, quite confusing. I do not know who I am. I am a Mexican-American who is both and neither Mexican and American. I am a Tejano and Texican who lives in Canada. But this is not about me, really, and the only way it is about me is in the way that rises above the reefs and weeds of complexity and first-person anecdote and reaches a universal moral depth where Black Lives Matter is the only option for the human race today. No one’s life matters until Black Lives Matter.
This is the kerygma, the good news, for today: Black Lives Matter. This news is good because it exposes and opposes the evil we see on the news, a scandal where a collective Cain bitterly and cynically asks “Am I my brother’s keeper?” as their brother bleeds and dies. The good news is this: Black Lives Matter can save the Black person from mortal death and the white person from moral decay. Those of us who are neither Black nor white cannot pretend that these options are not also our own stark burdens and the key to our own mortal and moral survival.
Black Lives Matter. Dismantle racism. Root out the evil of white supremacy not only in your own heart but in the collective heart we form as a society. With good hearts, we can attend to everything else there is to attend to without fear. If you are lucky enough to not need to fear racists then don’t let racism scare you. Be brave like the one who justly fears the racist must be and is being right now. Black Lives Matter.
Few minutes before I started writing this short blogpost, the results from two independent autopsies on the death of George Floyd were announced. He did not die from so-called underlying conditions, but directly from asphyxiation due to physical pressures applied on his neck during close to nine minutes, complemented by extra force applied to his back, which constricted his airflows and by extension, the functioning of his lungs.
Beyond these ‘just-in’ facts, it is worth restating this oft-repeated question: just for the past few weeks, how many times have we seen this anti-black racism that devalues, then destroys the lives of African North Americans? The North American point is intentional here as the situation also applies to this northerly earth block called Canada. It is with this in mind and to rationalize the term ‘archeology’ in the title, sort of euphemistically, that one need not de-shelf or de-dust, a few thick volumes to decipher and analyze the intersecting and interconnecting historical, cultural and quotidian designs and applications of white racism on the psychosomatic existentialities of African Americans and African Canadians. Beyond the deliberate asphyxiation of George Floyd, we witnessed, just in the past weeks, the killings – at close range – of Ahmaud Arbery in Brunswick, Georgia, and Breonna Taylor in Louisville, Kentucky, by white police officers and self-styled white vigilantes. We also not need forget the narrow escape from the same fate of Christian Cooper, a Harvard graduate, an avid bird watcher and member of the New York Audubon Society. By politely asking a white woman, Amy Cooper (no known relationship) to leash her dog as was required for the area in NYC Central Park, a barrage of racist accusations were suddenly unleashed on him. Fortunately this time, Mr. Cooper survived, and Ms. Cooper got some (not all) of what she deserved.
In the Canadian case, I can list a number of African Canadians killed by the police in the past little while, but I shall stay for now more with the current American situation. Just to mention that there is the ongoing investigation into the death of Regis Korchinski-Paquet from Toronto who fell to her death from her balcony recently while police officers were in her apartment. For the racist killers of George, Ahmaud and Breonna, and their racist supporters, it should be clear by now: BLACK LIVES DO NOT MATTER. Well, in pure scientific terms and with the massive genetic evidence available, there is only one human race. Possible conclusion here: if black lives do not matter, then this tragic principle applies to all lives. Of course, black lives matter and by extension, all human race lives matter which is, by the way, a legislated fact in both the Canadian and American constitutions. So how is it that we cannot so far solve these tragedies through the law? A brilliant answer from Martin Luther King Jr.: human morals and decency cannot be legislated, and legislation cannot repair the hearts of the heartless.
In terms of my current professional context (EDST), and speaking for myself ONLY, I can achieve better ethical and morally constructive platforms by accepting others as an extension of my own humanity. That is, by living the basic tenets of the African life philosophy of Ubuntu: you are only a person through the full personhood of others. To go back to the archeology point, euphemistically again (with extractable allegorical escape routes if needed), this inter-connected humanization of our lives can be expanded via the excavation and urgent re-examination of our primordial (even primeval) cognitive constructions, across-time-and-space ontological formations, and epistemological socializations and valuations, all analyzed into our currently globally linked contemporaneous realities and attached pragmatisms.
Indeed, if I am hurriedly deploying, in my teaching and research, as I actually do, the central role of education in the social, cultural and political liberation of societies with the main objective of achieving people’s wellbeing and ecological sustainability, then I must minimally accord all persons their primordial right (at birth) for human dignity and viably safe life conditions. By doing so, through interpersonal, dialogic and wider professional connections, I could advance the urgently needed antiracist projects, even achieve, to borrow half a line from Martha Nussbaum, wider and thicker threads of my common humanity with others.
In these posts so far, I’ve addressed issues I’m aware of from my personal life, teaching, and thoughts as a citizen. In this post, I turn to our current research[1] on working undergraduate students at UBC and U of T. I find it troubling that although we (instructors) engage with students in our classes, we often don’t know much about the circumstances of their lives. When I was the Graduate Advisor in EDST, I became aware of some of the complex home-work-study situations faced by many of our graduate students, usually when they had reached a crisis point.
Our Hard Working Students[2] research study, now ending its second year, explores the situations of working undergraduates at UBC over their programs. From our quantitative survey of undergraduates in 2018 and 2019,[3] we learned that over half of full-time students work part-time during the academic year. In 2019, the average number of hours they worked per week was 16 (equivalent to the time spent in class for many). Perhaps not surprisingly, those from lower SES backgrounds were more likely to be working. Most work off campus and a large proportion of students reported stress or anxiety (68%) and fatigue (58%) as problems at work in 2019.
I’m getting a sense of why fatigue and anxiety are prevalent as I read transcripts from students’ self-interviews as they traveled to and from work and classes in winter/spring of 2019. Many students are engaged in both paid and unpaid work, as well as student clubs and organizations, on top of their four to six-course load. The ease with which students manage their workload varies by individual circumstances. We know that balancing school and work is particularly anxiety provoking, for example, for those students who must pay their rent, food, tuition, and other living costs without support from families. Many of these students feel this part of their life is invisible to the university.
As the COVID-19 lockdown began, we emailed our participants to see how it’s impacting their lives. So far, we’ve heard from 13 students[4] and hope to hear from others over the summer. Responses suggest that most students’ plans have been seriously disrupted by the pandemic (only two of thirteen are continuing to work as usual). A couple are still working, but express concerns about safety at work since they’re in contact with customers or other workers. Plans for Study Abroad, internships, or cooperative education experiences are cancelled or on hold. Job offers are being rescinded and students are being forced to be even more flexible and adaptable than usual. Most students have decided to take summer courses in the event they can’t find work. Beyond work changes, some international students and out-of-province students have moved back home with parents.
What is to be done? In response to the immediate COVID-19 situation, the federal government has responded with the Canada Emergency Student Benefit program, intended to offer financial assistance to students who can’t find work over the summer, and the Canada Student Service Grant program, to provide some support students who choose to volunteer in the fight against COVID-19. Special support is to be provided also for Indigenous students. In addition, the government is involved in summer job creation activities. However, like responses to the elderly and those living in poverty, the pandemic shines a light on broader issues in the higher education system.
First, concerns the globalization of higher education. In addition to international student recruitment, higher education, now more than ever, encourages student mobility and internationalization initiatives based on global knowledge networks.[5] For example, our study suggests that the financial pressures on international students are significant because of their much higher tuition costs and lack of job hunting networks. The number of domestic students negatively affected by the pandemic in terms of international opportunities is striking too. More generally, questions around who can access ‘extra-credential’ opportunities and what student supports are available will continue to be topics for discussion.
Second, is the problematic nature of human capital discourse in higher education. Students are acutely aware of labour market returns on different degrees, and the need to be employable upon graduation. Many students now feel pressured to not only get a degree, but also to get relevant work experience, to demonstrate leadership in student clubs, and to include career-relevant volunteer work on their cv’s by the time they graduate. However, as the COVID-19 crisis demonstrates, individual employability not only involves personal attributes and competencies, but also factors less within students’ control, including the rules and institutions that govern local, national, and international labour markets (e.g. employment standards, regulation of occupations, etc.), economic changes (e.g., shifts in demand), as well as personal circumstances (e.g. child or elder care responsibilities).[6] Employability therefore needs to be located in a dialogue between multiple stakeholders, including providers, learners and communities as well as business and government.[7]
Third, and related to a broader view of employability, is the importance of understanding working students’ lives. In Canadian society overall, COVID-19 has increased our awareness of the vastly different circumstances of different workers, where some are able to “weather the storm” while others are being dashed on the rocks. Students also face very different situations, and universities therefore need to be more attentive to the most vulnerable students. This includes considering who is unable to enroll in the (for financial reasons), who is barely subsisting once in programs, and who is dropping out for reasons that are largely non-academic. Although the proportion of university students who work has steadily increased over time, universities have not always responded.
To cite the conclusion to our report:
The typical undergraduate student continues to be seen by the university as a non-working student, despite evidence to the contrary. Such a student is seen as devoting 100 percent of their time and energy to their studies, prioritizing learning in the classroom, demonstrating concern about achieving high grades, and participating in extra-curricular activities on campus to become well rounded.
In contrast, our study results confirm the image of the working student as a juggler, trying to keep all the balls in the air – paid and unpaid work, attending class and studying – while trying to preserve a few precious moments for self-care, family, and friends.
Universities must recognize that many students are not working by choice, and that students working in precarious conditions may require accommodations and additional supports.
April 22, 2020 marked the 50th anniversary of the first Earth Day, although it was eclipsed by pandemic news. When the environment has been in the media of late, it seems that stories have been lauding improvements in air quality in India and New York and water quality in Venice; the takeaway message is that the pandemic has allowed for “nature’s reset.” However, Inger Andersen, the head of the UN Environment Programme argues that COVID-19 is far from a silver lining for the environment. For one thing, the pandemic will result in an increase in medical and hazardous waste. Further, “fossil fuel use would have to decline by about 10 percent around the world, and would need to be sustained for a year to show up clearly in carbon dioxide levels.”[1] An Economist writer correctly says, “Covid-19 and climate change are both global problems, and proper responses to both require levels of co-operation that the countries of the world find hard.”[2] In particular, when countries like the US and China are unwilling to step away from carbon-intensive development,[3] it’s even more challenging.
So, what is to be done? Without a doubt, this is a topic, I need to learn more about, perhaps from EDST colleagues working in this area. COVID-19 has dramatically shown how interconnected our world is. At the same time, we see some countries acting in self-serving ways. This is a good time to provide critical analysis of the failings of economic globalization for many workers as well as for the environment. Action on the climate emergency can be spurred by increasing realization that, as a world, as well as in communities, “we’re in this together.”
COVID-19 has shown that changes in behaviour can be mandated and governments can play key roles in efforts to create sustainable changes in behaviour. When economic stimulus packages targeting infrastructure spending are designed, green packages of renewable energy investments, smart buildings, green transport, and so on, must be part of them. At a global level, help from rich countries to developing countries to adapt to inevitable climate change is also crucial. The slogan “together we can,” which has become so prominent during the COVID crisis, must be adapted to tackle the future of our planet for ourselves and our children.
Moving to Vancouver from Edmonton, one of my first impressions was about the obvious divide between rich and poor. One only has to walk from Yaletown to the downtown eastside to register this disparity. Researchers who have studied rising neighbourhood inequality over time in Canada find there has been a significant rise in inequality in Vancouver over time (as in Toronto and other major cities). The percentage of low-income individuals (more than 20% below average) in Vancouver grew from 10% in 1970 to 29% in 2015.[1] Over the same period, the percentage of high-income individuals grew from 12% to 20%. At the same time, low-income people are being displaced, with middle-class gentrification “nibbling around the edges of the traditionally low-income inner city neighbourhoods, including the downtown eastside, Gastown, Chinatown, Strathcona, Grandview-Woodland and Mount Pleasant.”[2]
In Vancouver’s downtown eastside (DTES), the COVID-19 crisis is layered on top of an overdose epidemic that has been going on for years. More than 5,000 people in BC died as a result of illicit drug toxicity between 2016 and 2019.[3] Addiction is a health emergency, and is related to other social vulnerability factors.
The level of homelessness and insecure housing in the DTES community has required quick action with the arrival of the pandemic. As Richardson writes, “How can you wash your hands frequently if you don’t have access to a sink in your room or don’t have shelter at all? How do you stay two metres away from people when you live in extremely close quarters?”[4]
The city responded by converting Coal Harbour Community Centre and Roundhouse Community Centres into housing for homeless people. Meanwhile, the province has committed to moving people in Oppenheimer Park into temporary housing by May 9th.[5] It remains to be seen whether this is sufficient to address both crises.
Advocates hope that low income residents in the DTES and other parts of Vancouver will be eligible for federal COVID-19 benefits, and the provincial government has announced an increase in income assistance for individuals not eligible for these benefits. But lack of digital access to information and help with completing applications (e.g., from librarians, adult English Second Language and literacy educators, and settlement workers whose offices are now closed) introduces additional barriers for low-income people.[6] The loss of Chinatown businesses in the downtown eastside between 2009 and 2015 partly because of gentrification[7] may also be exacerbated by COVID-19.
The pandemic has shone a spotlight on “wicked” issues that are longstanding—poverty, racism, homelessness, and addiction. How does Canada compare with other countries in terms of income inequality? The Gini coefficient is a statistical measure of the distribution of income or wealth within a population. Comparisons of this measure across OECD countries for 2014-15 suggest Canada is below Nordic and Western European countries, and is slightly above the OECD average in terms of income inequality.[8]
So, what is to be done? Interestingly, the pandemic has opened up conversations about guaranteed income support and basic income. NDP leader Jagmeet Singh recently called for Universal Basic Income program to be introduced, and researchers like Diane Pohler (University of Toronto) have proposed a Targeted Basic Income program.[9] In a recent article, Pohler and colleagues write,
“A targeted basic income is a feasible, efficient, and equitable option for addressing income precarity during the ongoing health pandemic. It would provide a direct economic stimulus by putting money into the hands of the people most likely to spend it, and more importantly, into the hands of those most likely to need it. And once the pandemic is over, we can discuss how to make the policy permanent. As Canadians will increasingly come to understand, people can fall into poverty through no fault of their own.”[10]
A different approach to drug use is also necessary. If addiction is seen as an illness, then access to health services, access to safe supply, and decriminalization of drugs for personal use are all part of this new approach. The people most affected by this health crisis are doubtless in the best position to contribute to solutions, like many social problems. [11]
Questions related to the displacement of low-income residents and Chinese seniors in the downtown eastside are also important to keep on the table as the effects of the pandemic reside. If we don’t want a return to a society where some members are seen as disposable, actions need to be taken now.
[11] For more information about the opioid crisis from the perspective of drug users, see podcast “Crackdown” about drugs, drug policy and the drug war led by drug user activists in Vancouver: https://crackdownpod.com/
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