Proportionality is a Vote for Democracy in Canada

Jennifer Smith, March 22 2022

As evidenced by the recent Freedom Trucker Convoy protests, Canada is in a democratic malaise. Citizens can keep knocking or honking at the political door, but are their voices ever heard? Whether the topic of concern centers on foreign policy, climate change, social issues, or pandemic restrictions, Canadian citizens have become outsiders in their own political house where power appears to increasingly rest with the prime minister and the executive branch of government. This isn’t democratic governance, and the nation knows it. In the recent 2021 federal election, a disengaged and disenchanted citizenry showed itself through lower voter turnout (including a decline in youth participation), displays of civil unrest on the Liberal campaign trail (including gravel throwing at the Prime Minister), and the rise of populism (with a marked rise in support for the People’s Party of Canada).

While many solutions have been proposed to address citizen disengagement, one solution has stood out for at least one hundred years –adding proportional representation (PR) to our voting system. It is past time for an upgrade to Canada’s electoral system to reflect the diversity and values of a twenty-first-century Canadian society more accurately. Canadians need to courageously join with other developed nations that have already added a degree of proportionality to their electoral systems. An evidence-based approach, including consensus building through the appointment of a National Citizen’s Assembly, can help Canada to design the PR system uniquely suited to its needs, and build the more accountable, inclusive, and effective Canadian government and legislature that all Canadians deserve.

Politicians have been promising Canadians proportional representation since 1921 when Canada ceased to be a two-party system. In two-party systems, the current first-past-the-post (FPTP) or winner-takes-all system works well, as parties need over 50 percent of the vote to win. In systems with more than two parties, voters often split their vote between the candidates on the ballot and a candidate can win with well under 50 percent of the popular vote. This distorts results and leads to false majorities. For example, Trudeau’s Liberals earned 32.6 percent of the national vote in Canada’s 44th federal election but gained 159 seats or 44.9 percent of parliament. The Liberals have the highest vote efficiency among all political parties because they excel at turning fewer overall votes into a higher seat count.

First-past-the-post also has other negative effects. It creates a zero-sum contest that fosters nasty adversarial politics that turns many voters off. It also promotes parties formed along regional lines, exacerbating regional division and tensions. For example, in 2019, distorted results meant no MPs of the governing Liberals were elected from Alberta or Saskatchewan. This meant no voters from these provinces had representatives at the Cabinet table, leading to what is known as “western alienation”. In 2021, there were two Liberal seats won in Alberta and none won in Saskatchewan.

But the pattern is always the same, the promise of electoral reform works like magic to garner voter interest in election campaigns, but once the campaigning party gains power electoral reform no longer holds its sparkle. In 2015, Justin Trudeau’s campaign platform included a commitment to select a preferred electoral system (“not based on preconceived notions”) to replace the first-past-the-post system. The year 2015 was to be the last first-past-the-post federal election. This promise was repeated 1813 times! But once in power, Trudeau revealed that his position all along was a winner-take-all ranked ballot or nothing. Perhaps Trudeau could have been upfront about this before his government commissioned the Special Committee on Electoral Reform (ERRE) to investigate alternate electoral systems to first-past-the-post.

In the end, after five months of cross-country consultations that resulted in a resounding “Yes” to proportional representation, the ERRE met a flat-out “NO” from the Liberals who argued that first-past-the-post is simple and effective and proportional representation would be bad for the country. The reality is that FPTP is more comfortable for the majority party and the ranked ballot or preferential voting that Trudeau prefers would only work more to his advantage. This self-serving narrative sowed seeds of confusion on electoral reform and prioritized partisan interests over Canadian interests. This is exactly the lack of accountability that Canadians can address by adopting a new electoral system.

One concrete alternative to the first-past-the-post system advocated by many experts and grassroots organizations like Fair Votes Canada, is the mixed-member proportional voting system, known as MMP. This is commonly used in some highly regarded democracies such as Germany, New Zealand, and Scotland. MMP combines the best of our existing winner-take-all voting system with an element of proportional representation. A split ballot allows a vote to be cast both for a candidate for the riding, and a party-list candidate for the region. The result of using MMP is that the number of MPs elected to parliament matches the share of votes cast by the electorate and limits the number of discarded votes. This would help eliminate strategic voting, which distorts the true diversity of votes. It would also hold politicians to account, as voters would be empowered to cost them seats in the next election. For these reasons, countries with proportional representation typically see a 7 percent higher average voter turnout.

Countries with PR are also more satisfied with their democratic institutions because they lead to more inclusion of under-represented voices such as smaller political parties, women, and minority candidates. In New Zealand, they have seen a substantial increase in the election of women and the Maori and ethnic minorities traditionally underrepresented in parliament. PR also encourages inter-party cooperation and sharing of diverse ideas through coalition governments, reducing the nasty climate of adversarial politics. They also produce more regionally balanced caucuses. PR would likely make governments more fragile, but this may be what Canadians want, especially if it means governments are more willing to listen and compromise.

There are many details to be worked out in setting up an MMP system, but a representative National Citizens’ Assembly can help design the right system and build a national consensus on electoral reform. Extensive education and consultative sessions with the public would help citizens to trust the process and believe in the power of electoral reform to reignite their political engagement and Canadian democracy. Now that would be something all Canadians could honk about.

“The Bullets of Social Media” Cultural Salon in Libya: Observations and Takeaways 

To what extent social media reflects violence and hate behaviors of the real daily life of a community? How can civil society diagnose these behaviors through monitoring social media trends, posts, and comments? And how can they address them virtually and on the ground? 

Text Box

Since I created my first social media account in 2010, I realized that I am learning more and more about the Libyan community. While reading people’s social media comments and posts, I realized that there is a lot of hate speech and cyberbullying. I wondered if people were prone to hate speech due to their own nature or if social media had made it easier for them to spread hatred by providing them the freedom of online anonymity and the freedom to express hatred against anyone or about anything for whatever reason. 

Months ago, I had the opportunity to attend a cultural Salon titled “The bullets of social media “organized by 1.8 Organization (a Libyan non-profit organization dedicated to raising awareness and combating hate speech) and hosted by the Tripoli Municipal Council. The participants shared their experience with social media hate speech as victims or witnesses. Their testimonies illustrated that social media hate speech has many facets attributed to tribalism, low self-esteem, insecurity, social injustice, and habitual violent communication in everyday life. One common theme that I find relevant to most of the testimonies discussed during the event is that the inter-tribal prejudice and complex relations have been latent and surfaced by the existence of social media. 

To explain the above, here is an observation shared by one of the participants: 

“The well-known Libyan saying ‘Ghiryan Khowan’ –meaning Ghiryan tribes are traitors – was based on a historical anecdote about Ghiryan tribes who betrayed Libyan martyrs when they allied with the Italian colony against Libyan martyrs back then. Recently, the same term “Ghiryan tribes are traitors” reemerged in social media during the 2020 Libya interstate armed conflict when some Ghiryani armed groups collaborated with other armed groups to fight against the Government of National Accord affiliates”. The incident explains how much Libyans are attached to their tribes’ past. Libyans have used social media to spread provocative words against the whole tribe in the described case. Such unjust and false collective judgments may reinforce discrimination behaviors leading to collective punishment and cultural stigma echoed in the form of hate speech in social media. 

Today, peace initiatives worldwide employ social media and online platforms to reach out to people, particularly the youth population. Social media may also represent a valuable open-source for understanding social behavior. Besides, it allows for accessing and learning about violent communication through observing the community’s political, social, and economic trends and reflections. Even though some believe that social media information is unreliable, people’s thoughts in posts and comments on public social media pages are usually honest and spontaneous. Civil societies may learn from these sources and build on their initiatives to address community issues through what they observe on public social media pages. Therefore, today, civil societies are more powerful and are able to utilize social media tools to raise awareness and spread peace, respect, and coexistence. 

P.S. Thanks to the participants for sharing their stories and thoughts, which were the inspiration for this post. 

About the Author: 

Rima Ashawesh is an experienced Program Development and Grants Specialist. She is a current final year MPACS student at the University of Waterloo and Conrad Grebel. She has a passion for peacemaking and worked with national and international organizations on varied projects in Libya focused on empowering women, supporting civil society organizations, and promoting peace and unity

Building Boundaries for Peace work and Internships: Crafting a Bill of Rights

By Gabrielle “Gaby” McInnes

Courage will always be the passport when our old world disappears. I remind myself of this every time that I transition between types of learning. While education starts in the classroom, it only becomes ‘learning’ when we start to understand how and why it is relevant to the non-academic world. As academics, it is easy to find ourselves cloistered away in the libraries of our mind, overwhelmed by the sheer complexity of a world born submerged in conflict. Our hours are spent analysing, hypothesising, conjecturing, fact checking, proposing, and deliberating these conflicts, so much so, that we often forget what it means to be living them. It can be easy for us to forget to ‘change gears.

When you do an internship, you quickly learn that they are not meant to be ‘easy’. I’ve had the privilege of doing two PACS related internships – one at the Undergrad level and one at the Grad level. When I wrote the proposal for these courses, I acknowledged that racially, religiously, culturally, and agedly I could be different from my peers. I recognized that I come from a place of privilege, youth, ability, and that the world, in its current state, is designed to support people such as myself; in doing so I can — intentionally or unintentionally — benefit from things that predispose others to vulnerability. I accepted that I get to work in an environment where people have experienced a variety of harms and/or unmet needs, requiring me to approach my job, not as an intern, but rather, as an activist. This demands of me a degree of ethical responsibility. Even though I will never truly understand the impacts of these situations, I can choose to stand with those who currently live it.

In the days leading up to starting my internship, I spent a great deal of time reflecting, meditating, and searching the universe, trying to understand the intentions that I would bring into my placement: Yes, I would be standing in solidarity with diverse groups and building resilience in community, but I would also become the face of someone who does not belong their long term. I constantly struggled with questions like “what if I am bad at this?” or “what if what happened last time happens again?”. As a peace advocate who often disagrees with pacifism, I was perpetually terrified that I might do peace wrong. I had convinced myself that, despite having earned the internships that I had dreamt of since the first year of my undergrad, how could someone as flawed as me – impatient, critical, and skeptical – do this job well?

I’ve learned that it can be easy to use catch words to get yourself ‘in’ but can be hard to haul yourself ‘out’ when you become part of the damage. It’s easy for me to quote educational doctrine in saying that internships are the practice of service learning through an educational approach that combines learning objectives with community service in order to provide a pragmatic learning experience which also meets societal needs… but my experiences in Peru, Uganda, and KW have taught me that Service learning is not always an Instagram-able moment. Experience has taught me that the highs can be high, but you can sink so low when it all goes wrong. As someone who has expected holistic healing only to be met with trauma, I’ve learned that there is no word in the human language that can accurately describe the emotional propensity that lies beneath humanity’s paradoxical ability to create peace and generate harm at the same time.

Seeing the best and worst of humanity and learning that intentions can easily result in unexpected adversity, has taught me that nothing is more important than being able to have “the serenity to accept the things I cannot change, courage to change the things I can, and wisdom to know the difference”. In facing the capacity for both peace and conflict, I am often greeted by the faces of old versions of myself – many of which I am unprepared to revisit. There is no easy way to overcome adversity and sometimes, standing in solidarity with communities, partners, clients, (and humans in general) means that we must create boundaries that we otherwise might wish were unnecessary.

In the weeks leading up to my internship, I questioned whether it was selfish for me to brace myself for work that might be hard and the feeling that my hard work might feel meaningless. Was I cruel for being scared? Unwilling to get hurt? Did the culmination of my fears and less than charitable characteristics make me a bad peace-worker? Should I maybe just stick to academics and opt to stay in the library of my mind because it’s safer?

My tangential reflections helped me to realize that while we do not always get a choice in what happens to us, we have the power to decide how we face it. In a world that is currently divided by the global trauma of a pandemic, civil unrest, racism, and an era of hardship, we cannot promote the idea of peace work without recognizing the necessity for ‘me-work’. Peace commands that we act to protect and advocate for ourselves just as much as we do for those whom we serve. It demands that we have the power and the means to sing ‘Hell yes!” on one occasion and chant “Hell no!” on the next. It gives us the choice to be broken in our solitude, or to heal in our togetherness by making meaning out of the things that happen and tackling one problem at a time.

 As a peace worker, I was called to remember my own self-worth, my own rights and liberties, and my own boundaries in the same way that I seek to respect them in others. Holding fast to this does not mean that I am uncommitted to peace, rather, it means that I make a commitment to it being sustainable work that creates lasting transformation. I know that I tend to give more of myself than reasonably expected of me. As such, I thought it is prudent to craft a personal bill of rights that can govern my attitude towards myself as I start rebuilding how I view peace work and service learning. The guidelines that I have set out for myself are not easy. They are, however, realistic. I won’t always be perfect at sticking to them, but I know that I can always choose to come back to them when I feel like I need to retrace the grace that helped me to create them in the first place.

I have shared my personal bill of rights with you below. I encourage you to take from it what you find valuable and seek to incorporate it into your own learning as you move forward in either an internship, future academics, or the working world in general.

Cheers to all of you who have made it so far and are choosing to take another leap of faith into a new adventure!

My Personal Bill of Rights

1.         I have the right to grieve what I didn’t get or needed, and also have the right to grieve what I got that I didn’t deserve or want

2.         I have the right to challenge abuse

3.         I have a right to grieve over actual or threatened losses

4.         I have the right to be angry even if it is at someone that I care about

5.         I have a right to my feelings, all of them.

○          Feelings are neutral and should not be classified as either good or bad

6.         There is no need to smile when I cry

○          I do not have to make people feel better when I am hurt

7.         I acknowledge that I can be healthier than those around me

○           A person doesn’t have to match their feelings to the other person and be miserable just because they hurt

8.         I have the right to take care of myself no matter what

9.         I have the right to ask for what I want.

10.       I have a right to be happy

○          I have numerous choices in my life beyond mere survival

11.       I have the right to give and receive unconditional love

12.       I have a right to dignity and respect

13.       I have a right to have my needs and wants respected by others

14.       I have a right to expect honesty from others

15.       I have the right to terminate conversations or relationships with people who make me feel put down or humiliated

16.       I have the right to follow my own values and standards

17.       I have the right to recognize my own value system as appropriate

18.       I have the right to make and determine my own priorities

19.       I have the right to be uniquely me without feeling that I am not good enough

20.       I have a right to say no to anything when I am not ready, or it is unsafe, or it violates my boundaries and values

○           I have the right to say no to requests or demands I cannot meet

21.       I have the right to make independent decisions without justify it to others

○          I have a right to make decisions based on my feelings, my judgement, or any reason that I choose

22.       I have the right to change my mind at any time without justifying it to others

23.       I have a right to change and grow and that possibility is indeed real

24.       I have the right to say that I don’t know

25.       I have the right to make friends and be comfortable around people.

26.       I have a right to stability, roots, and stable, healthy relationships of my choice

27.       I have the right to trust others who earn my trust and not for those who don’t

28.       I have a right to be around a non-abusive environment

29.       I have a right to feel scared and say that I am afraid

30.       I have a right to experience and then let go of fear, guilt, and shame

31.       I have a right to trust myself and forgive myself

32.       I have a right to be open to improve communication skills so that I might be understood

33.       I have a right not to be responsible for other people’s behaviour, actions, feelings, or problems

34.       I have the right not to give excuses or reasons for my behaviour.

35.       I have a right to make mistakes and not be perfect

36.       I have a right to my own personal space and time

○          I am not at other people’s beck and call if I do not want to be

○          It is ok to be relaxed and playful

37.       I have a right to be flexible and be comfortable doing so or be inflexible and be equally comfortable doing so

38.       I have the right to seek the counsel of others

39.       I can change or adapt any of these rules at any time

40.       By having these rights and asking people to respect them, I owe them the same respect for their rights – even when we disagree.

An adaption of The Therapist’s Guide to Clinical Intervention, Sharon L. Johnson, Academic Press, 2004

About the Author . Gabrielle “Gaby” McInnis is a second-year MPACS Student. With an undergraduate background in Legal Studies and Peace and Conflict Studies, her academic focus surrounds issues of justice. She has written on issues such as prison reform, decolonization, Indigenous self-governance, trauma, and healing, as well as intersectional feminism. As a mediator and dialogue facilitator, she seeks to resolve conflicts in the Waterloo region where she works and resides on stolen land. With international experience in Peru and Uganda, she is hopeful that peace might, one day, become everybody’s business.

Indivisible Justice

By Rose Ongech

Indivisible Justice

This blog post is based on a case study that I wrote for the PACS 611 (Reconciliation) course. It was also informed by the experiences I have encountered through my 5 years of engagement with the Pokot communities along the Kenya- Uganda borders in East Africa. The paper was influenced by a different conception of justice that may not be well known to many and also seems to be vanishing. This is the notion of collective justice as practiced by the Pokot communities living along Kenya-Uganda borders.

The Pokot are part of the Kalenjin community who are highland Nilotes originating from southern Ethiopia. They migrated southward into Kenya as early as 2,000 years ago (Pkalya et.al. 2004). The Pokot have a special attachment to livestock as both source of wealth and livelihood hence would do anything to defend their livestock. It is from this attachment that conflicts/disputes over access to natural resources and cattle rustling ascend. For a long time, the Pokots, like most African communities, have used and cherished the traditional justice system in resolving family, intra-ethnic and inter-ethnic disputes/conflicts. These included negotiations, mediations and reconciliation processes that were deep rooted on cultural norms and values. Although not referred to as so until recently, these are not new concepts amongst the Pokot. Historically, conflicts in these communities involved clan disputes and cattle rustling. Originally, cattle rustling as a cultural practice did not involve violence acts such as killings and massive destruction. However, over time, there have emerged new trends and complexities such as availability of small arms that have led to commercialization of cattle rustling with violence in the cross-border areas. The effects of these violent conflicts have led to deaths, rapes, displacements and loss of livelihoods. The Pokots have largely and effectively contained such conflicts/disputes and sought justice through traditional mechanisms and institutions governed by the council of elders. Key components of the traditional justice system among the Pokot community include: expression of aggression; negotiations; cleansing rituals and prayers governed by council of elders which aim at repair and restoration of relationships. Modern justice system such as litigation and arbitration, on the other hand, employ technical and complex court procedures and are expensive, not expeditious and not easily accessible by most communities in marginalized areas. These systems also have the aim of punishing offenders.  Although the traditional justice system has a big potential for enhancing access to communal forms of justice among communities (compared to the modern justice system) some shortcomings seem to arise in its current operationalization. The major challenges include: negative attitude, inferiority complex, and current socio-economic and political dynamics. Nevertheless, it is worth noting that, over the past years, pastoralist communities have effectively used traditional conflict resolution mechanisms for family disputes, intra- and inter- communal conflicts that occur over natural resources and cattle rustling.

Background

The barriers that cross border communities, especially pastoralists and agro-pastoralists living along Kenya, Uganda, South Sudan, Uganda and Ethiopian borders, face in accessing legal justice are wide and diverse: geographical isolation, poor infrastructure, poor telecommunication network and poor security are some of the common problems (Kibe, 2020).  In addition to these challenges, these communities such as the Pokot, Turkana, Jie, Tepeth routinely migrate across the borders in search of pasture and water for their livestock as part of their everyday activities. As such this leads to increased engagement in intra- and inter-community conflict over limited resources and cattle rustling, which are executed especially by the youth. The cross-border region is classified as arid and semi-arid and is prone to harsh weather conditions which render communities highly vulnerable to natural hazards, particularly droughts and floods. These climatic shocks lead to loss of livelihoods, human and livestock deaths, food insecurity and degraded natural resources, including grazing land and water for livestock. Again, proliferation of small arms and light weapons (SALW) from war torn countries in the Horn of Africa and the Great Lakes Region (Rwanda, Burundi and DRC) have intensified cattle raiding in Pokot that spill over to neighboring communities (Pkalya et.al. 2004).

Pokot: From birth until death, the Pokot community, like most pastoralists, cattle/livestock constitutes not only their livelihood but also the very centre around which their lives rotate. Birth, the passage to adulthood, marriage, death and the passing of decision-making power from one generation set to the next are all marked by the praising, slaughtering and sharing of cattle product. The Pokot also live a nomadic way of life which allows for intermarriages between the communities in which they come into contact, like the Turkana. A man is allowed to marry more than one wife as long as he has sufficient number of cows to offer as bride price and that he is able to provide for them. Cows are rarely slaughtered for meat; they are much more valuable alive. Cows provide milk, butter, and cheese, which form the core of Pokots’ dietary needs. (Pkalya et.al. 2004).

Pokot community is governed through a series of age grades (rika). Group membership is determined by the age at which one undergoes initiation. For young men this occurs between ages fifteen and twenty while for young women it usually occurs around age twelve. After initiation, young people are allowed to marry and are permitted to begin participating in local economic activities. Young men and women form close bonds with other members of their initiation groups and these bonds serve for future political ties. When a man or woman reaches old age, he or she is accorded a certain degree of status and respect. Responsibilities of elders include presiding over important community decisions, festivals, and religious ceremonies.

Tororot is considered the supreme deity among the Pokot. Prayers and offerings are made to him during communal gatherings, including feasts and dances. Such ceremonies are usually presided over by a community elder. Diviners and medicine men also play a significant role in maintaining spiritual balance within the community. Pokot believe in sorcery and use various forms of protection to escape the ill will of sorcerers. The Pokot perform dances and conduct feasts which are meant to thank and appease the god for their generosity and abundance. (Pkalya et.al. 2004).

Since cows are so precious for the Pokots, a number of conflicts/disputes revolved around their acquisition hence the cultural practice of cattle rustling. Cattle rustling in the past, was mainly practiced by pastoral and nomadic communities as a way of restocking after a severe drought or disease that had killed their livestock or to acquire cattle to pay for the bride price. Whatever the reason, however, it rarely involved violence or killings. However, with the availability of weapons and small arms from cross border neighbouring countries in recent years, this has changed.

Traditional Conflict Resolution Mechanisms

Before colonialism, communities living in Africa, in particular, had their own conflict resolution mechanisms. Those mechanisms were geared towards fostering peaceful co-existence among the Africans. Existence of traditional conflict resolution mechanisms such as negotiation, reconciliation, mediation and others is evidence that these concepts are not new in Africa, with Kenya included. These mechanisms addressed all the social, political and economic conflicts among the people in the society. Since Africans have always led a communal way of life, they value peaceful coexistence. The mechanism used the council of elders or the elderly men whom would sit down informally under ancient trees in sessions and act as third parties in mediation of the conflict.  As such, traditional conflict resolution mechanisms were geared towards fostering peaceful co-existence among the Africans. Traditional justice mechanisms are flexible, cost-effective, and expeditious, foster relationships, collective, are non-coercive and result in mutual satisfactions and convenience for both the parties/offenders-victims and the community. They are thus the most culturally appropriate in enhancing access to instant justice closer to the people and to help in reducing the backlog of cases in the court system (Muigua, 2017). In comparison, the modern justice system employs technical procedures that are not easy to understand, consume a lot of time and resources, are applied selectively, and are individualistic in nature. The modern justice system also focuses more on punishment views justice as ‘punishing the offender’. This, in most cases, doesn’t seem to resolve the root causes. Instead, it only tackles the symptoms and effects of the problem. It is also worth noting that, punishment, penalties and or fines are also administered in the traditional justice system by the council of elders after giving their verdict. However, this is offered in a collective manner with the main objective being the restoration of broken relations.

Justice – the Pokot Way

As illustrated in the video above, (viewer discretion advised) whenever beyond-family level conflicts/disputes arose amongst the Pokot communities, parties often sought negotiations through the council of elders who acted as third parties in the conflict’s/dispute’s resolution. The members of the council of elders were ‘carefully selected and comprised of respected and incorruptible elders of the community’ because their work called for greater wisdom, integrity, and knowledge of the traditions. They would receive complaints and would summon parties to an informal court under a symbolic ancient tree for hearing. Each party would first be given opportunity to vent their anger and aggressions towards each other through whipping before sitting down to present their case.

A verdict would then be given followed by a punishment, penalty, and or fines to the guilty one/party/clan on behalf of the collective. In most cases, the guilty one is asked to bring a goat for offering as a sacrifice to appease both the elders and the ancestors.

A ritual would be performed by slaughtering a goat and using its feces as a thanksgiving to ancestors; the parties in conflict would drink its blood to renew their strength lost from the conflict. The goat is then roasted whole with the hides and the community members present at the negotiations share the meat to symbolize restored relationship and harmony between the two parties/clan. The parties would then shake hands as a symbol of forgiveness and reconciliation and were advised by the elders to embrace unity. The ritual ceremony among Pokots resonates with the gacaca system in Rwanda, where headmen of the lineages or the eldest male or patriarchs of families resolved conflicts by seeking truth, punishing perpetrators and compensating victims through gifts. Brewed drinks would be shared at the sitting to ensure offenders are rejoined with the other community members and urged not to repeat the offence. (Rusesabagina. 2006).

Traditional Justice System is based on principles such as cultural norms and beliefs, respect, mutual dependence, and most importantly utu. For the Pokot communities, emphasis on the value of humanity and restoration of relationships is key, as the offenders and victims are viewed to ‘belong’ through a communal bond/cord. This cord is perceived to be cut when a dispute/conflict occurs. The goal is thus to fix the cord back through cleansing for the parties to be reunited back to the community.

Resonating with the South African term Ubuntu, in Kenya it is referred to as utu, which in Swahili language also means ‘a person is a person because other people are’. Hence, no one lives in isolation. Utu emphasizes the ‘we’ that is the collective as opposed to the ‘I’ which is individualistic. Hence, the notion of being in a relationship is emphasized with the need for harmony and peaceful coexistence with others in the community. Individualism came to be introduced thereafter by the colonists as a way of unweaving the well-knit social fabric which was embedded throughout African culture. For the Pokot community living in cross border areas there has been a common understanding that every member of the community is entitled to access to grazing land and water, hence this forms a basis in which violent conflicts are resolved by using the traditional resolution mechanisms. 

Pumla Gobodo-Madikizela, in the video below, also talks about ‘inimba,’ as a painful feeling that cuts deep inside a mother’s womb. This is why the women said to Eugene De Cock, a former participating police colonel who participated in atrocities that were common place within the structure of the apartheid government in South Africa, “I hope that when he sees our tears, he knows that they are not only tears for our husbands, but tears for him as well”.

This refers to the connection between the perpetrator and the community—not only the offender making connections to the humanity of the other. Also, the idea that ‘good and evil is in all of us needs to be managed to ensure that the evil part doesn’t overwrite the good’ is further illustrated by Ashis Nandy in the reading ‘The other within’ when he said,“No one is all perfect, not even gods. No one is entirely evil either. Everyone is flawed and everyone has redeeming features.” These notions humanize people and make people have empathy for others. In regards to rupture and repair of relations, for the Pokot community, the rupture occurs after an act of violent conflict breaks the family/communal bond. The repair is then encountered when the parties are reunited back to the family/community through cleansing rituals meant to appease the ancestors to allow granting of reconciliation and for the parties to become human again.

Shortcomings in the Traditional Justice System (TJS)

According to Kariuki, despite the many strengths of the traditional justice system, there also exist shortcomings. The first challenge is the negative attitude TJS tends to receive from those who value the modern justice system of dispute resolution (Kariuki, 2014). For instance, traditional practices such as drinking of animal’s blood and smearing of goat’s feces during rituals and cleansing, which are central in resolving disputes, are viewed as gross and ‘uncivilized.’ Secondly, traditional justice systems are regarded as inferior in comparison to modern justice systems. Hence, this attitude has reduced the influence of elders in resolution of disputes. This is because they use customary laws which are embedded in norms, values and beliefs that form the basis of traditional dispute resolution. In the Kenya Constitution, for instance, article 159 (3) limits application of African customary law in dispute resolution processes. Thirdly, the current changing socio-economic and political way of life have had a negative influence on the applicability of the traditional justice system. For instance, in the pre-colonial era, for one to qualify to belong to the council of elders and be respected, they had to be wealthy with large herds of livestock and vast land. Their wealth and respect enabled them to be partial and not easily corruptible when issuing a verdict during a dispute resolution process. However, in modern days, most elders have exhausted their wealth and are dependent on their younger ones’ source of wealth for a living. Hence, they can easily be bribed. This has weakened the traditional dispute resolution mechanisms. In addition, the emergence of devolution, for instance in Kenya, that has brought new development policies such as enclosure of land for community conservation for the pastoralists communities, has threatened the cultural practices and hence threatened the traditional justice system.

Lastly, those from the human rights perspective, would view traditional justice system as incapable of respecting and protecting the fundamental rights and freedoms of the accused parties especially women because of their lack of representation in the processes. But, I would argue that the two justice systems are two different models which aim at achieving different results. For example, the modern justice system (which is basically retributive justice) focuses on imposing punishment on the offender while traditional justice system (which is restorative justice) puts emphasis on shared identity, values, restoring relationships and dignity amongst the offender, the victims and the entire community. Again, there are greater opportunities for the traditional justice system to be practiced among communities who still hold close the customary laws and traditions in their ways of life like the pastoralists communities in the cross -border areas. And, if there is need of legitimizing the traditional justice system of resolving conflicts, the fundamental principles of TJS should be applicable.

In conclusion, culture, communal bonds through families, kinsmen, and other social ties still exist and play an integral role in conflict resolution and hence are highly valued in most communities in Kenya, Pokot being one of them. The Pokots still find it easy to access justice through the traditional justice system as it has proven effective in enhancing peaceful coexistence and in reducing the huge backlog of cases in courts within the modern justice system. Again, traditional justice system are the most appropriate processes in marginalized communities since they are easily accessible and dispense justice instantly. Hence, current peacebuilding practitioners/researchers need to develop strategic conflict resolution mechanisms that puts in consideration both the traditional and the current practices and customs as deemed applicable. Peace actors and institutions also need to continuously empower the pastoral communities and other communities at large through peace education so that the traditional approach to conflict resolution are strengthened, appreciated and hence not lost. And in addressing the shortcomings of traditional justice system, there is need to put into consideration the current practices and customs coupled with their socio-economic and political dynamics to better inform dispute/conflict resolution mechanisms.

About the Author: Rose Ongech is an international student currently in her last semester of the Master of Peace and Conflict Studies at the University of Waterloo’s, Conrad Grebel University College. She previously obtained a Diploma in Peace and Conflict Studies from Conrad Grebel (2008- 2009). She is passionate about peacebuilding and conflict transformation matters and has worked and lived with pastoralists communities in the cross border areas of Kenya, Uganda, South- Sudan and Ethiopia. Rose also shares an interest on issues of community health advocacy especially for girls and women in the marginalized communities and has done work on HIV/AIDS, Gender Based Violence (GBV) Early marriages, and Teenage pregnancy preventions in her community.

Neither Angels Nor Demons: Confronting the Dichotomy

By I.S.

Hero. Villain. Friend. Enemy. Oppressed. Oppressor.

As I reflect on my MPACS experience thus far, one of the main themes I keep coming back to is the ease with which human beings of all ages, communities, and walks of life are quick to succumb to binary thinking. The ways in which we communicate and engage, even the stories we tell are rooted in a discourse that compartmentalises and conceptualises our reality. This discourse is based on popular notions of “either/or,” which we allow to dictate our worldviews. 

As both an aspiring peace practitioner and a human being, I care deeply about justice and peace. My heart breaks for those who suffer from immense persecution at the hands of another, and I endeavour to do everything in my power to change that reality for the better. That said, I also understand that a crucial part of grasping the root of any conflict is the recognition that there are few (if any) situations that can be understood with such simplicity. 

When we view any given scenario, we tend to make moral judgments about who is right versus who is wrong and construct our narratives accordingly. We place individuals, groups, communities, nations, etc., into arbitrary boxes of oppressed versus oppressor, good versus evil, innocent versus guilty, without so much as a second thought. Yet in doing so, we relinquish the very thing that conflict transformation and restoration demands: the humanisation of the other. 

When we insist on dehumanising the other, irrespective of who they might be, we hinder the path toward peace and restoration. Consequently, we are unable to examine the context of a particular circumstance and thus inhibit ourselves from comprehending the breadth and depth of the human experience. 

For the sake of clarification, there is good and evil in the world; there are certainly oppressors, as well as those who are oppressed. I am not suggesting that we forego this terminology in its entirety; what I am saying is that we must learn to resist the temptation to dehumanise our fellow human beings, consciously or subconsciously, in the process.

When it comes to conflict transformation, we are incapable of enacting change so long as those who embrace different outlooks are not human. We are all capable of immense good & immense evil: this is an intrinsic part of the human condition. The oppressor is not a demon; the oppressed is not an angel. Rather, to be human is to live in a dysfunctional world, and to wrestle with the circumstances that we find ourselves in. 

This does not merely apply to those whom we deem to be oppressed. Even toward those who abuse their power in destructive and horrifying ways, to humanise the other is to acknowledge that under a different set of circumstances, I too have the capacity to follow in their footsteps. In other words, there is a context at play; the roles could be reversed at the drop of a dime, and we should not be naive enough to assume that they are constant or unchanging.

This is by no means an excuse to ignore injustice, nor to dismiss harmful, destructive behaviour; rather, it is a cautionary reminder that in our respective fights for justice, we are no more moral than those we are quick to condemn. In fact, if we are not careful, we can reinforce the injustices that we wish to eradicate or worse, become the very thing that we seek to destroy.

Perhaps this is easy to do because people tend to perceive themselves as being on the side of the good. The majority of us like to see ourselves as the heroes of our own stories, but every other person is wired to think the same way. If we want to live in a world where we have a shot at being effective agents for peace, this kind of deep-seated thinking will not get us very far. However, if we are willing to consider the humanity in every individual, no matter who they might be, the possibilities for peacemaking are infinite. 

About the Author . I.S. is midway through the MPACS program at Conrad Grebel. I.S.’ passions include localised peacebuilding initiatives, MENA issues, & anything that involves travel in some capacity. Any free time is devoted to personal projects & getting lost in the rabbit holes of the Internet.

Lessons from an (Unqualified) Conference Presenter

by Gabrielle McInnis

I am stating the obvious when I say that none of us are living the MPACS life the way we thought we would. COVID-19 has affected the way we network, collaborate, and engage with like and different minded peers. What has remained constant however, is the drive to share and exchange ideas across time and space. In that regard, the focus on our academia has pushed us to explore and create more than ever – if only to alleviate the tedium of writing discussion posts and reflective journaling practices which have become part of our new routines.

Even though we now communicate through 13-inch screens instead of face to face, we recognize that coming together and sharing ideas is one of the things that make all the work we do worth it. It’s an opportunity to say “I am interested in X subject and so I took it upon myself to try to build on it. In doing so, I have crafted a piece of academia that I would like to share with X audience”. Whether we share it with our classmates, an academic journal, or we ask our mothers to proofread our work to make sure it’s accessible to those outside of the PACS community, sharing is something we do best.

Even though we might enjoy sharing, it unfortunately, does not always mean that we enjoy presenting, giving oral speeches, and/or existing in the limelight. As academics in the Western sense of the word, we have this strange pre-conceived notion that ‘sharing’ means we are experts in the field or that we are obligated to represent our academic institutions. This is not the case. Sure, every grad student is expected to be able to present material with a modicum of skill for the likes of class assignments and program requirements such as the colloquium, but I think we have forgotten what it means to present just for the sake of saying “I am proud of something that I did”.

Until recently, I considered myself to be something of a “back-room academic”. Like many of us in this program, I am able to craft a piece of research worthy of dialogue, but I always found that I preferred to be on the receiving end of lectures. I liked to listen to what others had to say and what they knew about various subjects in which I shared an interest. In PACS, I prefer to be the hearer of stories and the sharer of laughs instead of a high and mighty academic with knowledge to disperse to my peers. Surely there must be an equal opportunity for the sharing of ideas and stories without the requirement of it being worth a grade.

***Enter Conferences!!***. Academic conferences — while they might sound like some dismal meeting that your parents drag you to as a child when you much prefer to be doing anything else — are a great opportunity to do exactly what I just talked about. Everyone that is at a conference is likely to be either an academic, a member of that community, and/or has relevant experiences in the field. The environment lacks the competitive requirement to prove that you know what you are talking about and/or that you have earned your seat at the academic table… It’s simply expected that everyone there is ready and willing to engage with the reality that they DO NOT have all the answers, and that they are far more interested in what can be learned through collective collaboration. It’s an experiential sigh of relief to know that we don’t have to be part of the Borg Drone Collective as featured on Star Trek, rather, we are merely humbled to the idea that learning from each other is equally as, if not more, powerful than sitting down with a textbook and trying to study course material through osmosis.

The insights that I just shared with you are ideas that I have been building upon since starting my undergraduate degree. It has taken a lot of trial and error for me to learn that it’s ok to not have all the answers and that there is no shame in deferring to someone else’s experience or expertise. At a conference, there are no stupid ideas and there are no stupid stories. The only thing that IS stupid, is that fact that we convince ourselves so easily that we have no place being a presenter at a conference. We tell ourselves that it must be someone else…not me.

As a self-proclaimed introvert with incurable imposter syndrome and crippling anxiety, I would be among the first to tell you that conferences are great… so long as you aren’t the one presenting. I would base this information on exactly ZERO credible data or experience. It’s ironic that we work with facts, data, and research every day, but we ignore it when it puts the  uncomfortable spotlight on us.

I learned that all these fears are untrue the hard way. In December of 2020, I was coming down from the high of my first term in the MPACS program. At the time, I was still trying to convince myself that I had a place in the program and that even though I was both young and straight out from an undergrad; that I had something to contribute. Like many of us, I had just received the final grade for a major research paper for PACS 603. As many can attest, Lowell Ewert has the unique gift of finding a way to make every academic feel welcome and important. His high praise on an essay that ended up being WAY longer than the assignment requirements, convinced me that being a good academic included being a good engager. In one moment of bravery (followed by an instant sense of regret and dread) I submitted my academic paper to be considered for presentation at the 2021 Benjamin V Cohen Peace Conference hosted by Ball State University in the USA.

After I submitted it…I promptly forgot about it and was content to be swept away by the current of applicants… I wasn’t sure what would happen to my application but that would be a problem for Gaby of the future.

In March of 2021 “Future Gaby” became “Present Gaby”.

Seeing the words “Dear Gabrielle McInnis. Congratulations, your paper titled ‘The argument for Prison Reform in Canada’ has been accepted” is both amazing and terrifying. It’s amazing in the sense that someone clearly cares enough about my work to think it worthy of sharing, but terrifying in that it also means I could be responsible for someone’s introduction to a subject. I could be the reason that someone is being introduced to a new subject, and just like meeting your girlfriend’s parents for the first time, you simply MUST make a good impression.

My conference Presentation occurred on April 10th. I will be the first to say that it is simultaneously nothing and everything that I expected it to be. I had been to conferences before as a participant…I kept reminding myself that the only difference was that now I was just a participant who had a lot more to say.

In the same way that I had done in class, I talked and networked with a diverse group of people on multiple subjects. In another era we might have met in person, but COVID meant that once again we hid behind our screens and prayed our internet connection was stable for the duration of our panel.

By some miracle, my internet decided to cooperate that day and I managed to tame my French-Canadian tendency to speak at 500 miles an hour. In all the ways I cared about (Ignoring technical difficulties as I shared my screen and tried to not focus on the timer that indicated how much longer I had to speak for) my presentation went far more successfully than I might have thought. People seemed actively interested in what I had to say and didn’t hesitate to comment or share their own experiences in similar fields. There was no expectation that I prove my worthiness as an academic… simply being me was enough.

….

All this has been nothing but a long-winded way of saying that I successfully spoke to a bunch of strangers for an hour. But something strikes me as interesting: We are taught by institutions such as universities on how to be an academic – we take writing courses, go through ethics clearance, and learn research methods… but are we ever actually taught how to present? Or are we all just cucumbers with anxiety who learn from the examples of our peers and colleagues?

Whether or not you believe yourself to be a cucumber, I’ll let you decide, but I think we do not talk enough about how to be an active engagement and/or presenter. Unless we actively seek out a mentor, we all just follow the example of others until someone gets brave enough to try something new.

Since I have not yet done my Colloquium and I expect to go on internship next term without having given any ‘formal’ presentations at the graduate level, I am left wondering how we do this in the future? I cannot possibly be alone when I say that I have no clue what I am doing or how to be ‘good’ at presenting. I am humble enough to realize that I have a lot of shortcomings at being both a public speaker and an academic, but there is comfort to be had in the idea that no one has all the answers… So I did what every terrified adult does… procrastinate until I found the courage to ask for help.

Jennifer Ball, Lowell Ewert, and Seth Ratzlaff were my saving graces along with the support of some MPACS colleagues who shared their own advice and experiences with me. Without their guidance and support I might have tackled this daunting task very differently. They taught me that being a good presenter is just a combination of being well organized and a decent human being.

In case you ever find yourself in a similar position where you must present to others, I’d like to share their advice with you:

  •  Do not include too much. Too many presenters “over present” by trying to present the entire paper, instead of just focusing on the one or two main points. The rest of the paper, the nuances, the specific details, etc., will be fleshed out in the Q&A if anyone has questions.
  • Q&A’s the most effective way to help your audience understand the nuances of a paper. Most of the time they will have broad questions about the implications of your research or how it relates to something else.
  • Q&A’s are often a time when someone wants to share some of their own experience or research with you. Even though you are the expert here – they want to engage with you as an equal and level out the discussion.
  • Preparation technique. To determine what should, or should not, be included in a presentation, assume you only have two minutes to present. What would you say if you were limited to two minutes? Once you narrow your presentation down to two minutes, you will know the most important part. Now go back and flesh it out.
  • Talk less. When you present you will find that you will talk longer than you anticipate. If you are given 15 minutes to present, prepare a 10-minute talk. The stress and pressure of a formal presentation, or some audience interaction, almost always consumes more time than you planned for when you rehearse.
  •  PowerPoints. If you use PowerPoint, keep it simple. The more words on a slide, the more distracting and complex. If you have 15 minutes to present, maybe 8 – 10 slides in total.
  • Thank the audience. Invite responses both during the session and afterwards. Use the audience to learn. Ask them whether they agree, or what gaps/critique they may have. Do not feel you have to “defend” your paper.
  • Instead of trying to defend a point about which you are unsure, respond instead with “That’s interesting. Thanks for sharing your perspective. Would you argue that ……?” Re-wording some of their questions not only buys you time to think of a strategy to respond, but also clears up miscommunication.
  • Be sure to include your contact info, should you desire to keep in conversation.

In conclusion I will leave you with one remark:

Don’t underestimate the impact of conferences. Everyone has extraordinary potential and impact through their work, even if not completely obvious yet. When you attend, they will think the same of you. Getting to participate in a conference is both a privilege and a daunting task; Don’t let either of these aspects of this community deter you from engaging.

…It also can become addictive… I am scheduled to present a different piece of academia at the Consortium of North American Peace Programs in June!

About the Author: “Gabrielle McInnis is in her third term of the MPACS program. She has a BA in Legal Studies and Peace and Conflict Studies from the University of Waterloo. With a passion for Restorative Justice, intersectional feminism, trauma, and healing, as well as history, much of her work focuses on transforming relationships and standing in solidarity with others.”

Gwendolyn Brooks

By Jesse Matas

Gwendolyn Brooks (1917-2000) is one of my favourite poets.

While studying themes of conflict transformation in the MPACS program at the University of Waterloo, I have been thinking a lot about poetry and its transformative abilities. I have been thinking about how, for me, events, places, and stories take on new meaning when they enter a poem. Indeed, something I love about poems is how they can create a whole new perspective on a true event; they even create their own new environment from which to view the event. Gerald Dawe, a poet from Belfast, writes “of course, reading a poem will never subdue a bigot or dissolve the political divisions inherited from sectarian attitudes. It might, however, open the door to look anew at history, the individual’s place in it, the willing and frank acknowledgement of what has been done in their name and the possibility thereby of transforming this experience into a sustaining creative one” [1] Poems broaden the scope of a story, or even transform the way one interprets it. For example, the poem, “A Bronzeville Mother Loiters in Mississippi. Meanwhile, A Mississippi Mother Burns Bacon” takes the story of Emmett Till (an 14 year old African American who was violently murdered for allegedly flirting with a white woman [2]) and provides a new perspective, essentially its own story, for the tragedy (I’ve posted the poem below).

Another thing I love about poetry is how a poem can turn the everyday into something with deeper meaning [3] as in “The Bean Eaters” (also below). I really believe that poems and other works of art have the ability to be catalysts in systemic change. I believe they are a part of the structures that work against the structures of violence. These everyday scenes lie below the surface. I love it when poets can describe life as it is, without commentary, leaving any elements of transformation entirely to the reader; that a real inner change happens in the reader through the act of reading.

Generally speaking though, it’s tough to say what else attracts me to a poem. I believe part of it is how a writer approaches the topic. I like when there is a lightness that illuminates something dark. I like when the language is playful, yet masterful in its conveyance, its concision. I like when writers talk about real life, real people, real places, real events, in real ways. Gwendolyn Brooks does all this in the best ways.

In 1950, Gwendolyn Brooks was the first African American to win the Pulitzer Prize. She was the Poet Laureate of Illinois from 1968 until her death in 2000. In 1976, she became the first African American woman to be inducted into the American Academy of Arts and Letters. These are a few among a long list of awards and accolades.

Below are a few of my favourite of her poems. Hope you enjoy.

WE REAL COOL

The Pool Players
Seven at the Golden Shovel.

We real cool. We
Left school. We

Lurk Late. We
Strike straight. We

Sing sin. We
Thin gin. We

Jazz June. We
Die soon.


A BRONZEVILLE MOTHER LOITERS IN MISSISSIPPI.
MEANWHILE, A MISSISSIPPI MOTHER BURNS BACON.

From the first it had been like a
Ballad. It had the beat inevitable. It had the blood.
A wildness cut up, and tied in little bunches,
Like the four-line stanzas of the ballads she had never quite
understood–the ballads they had set her to, in school.

Herself: the milk-white maid, the “maid mild”
Of the ballad. Pursued
By the Dark Villain. Rescued by the Fine Prince.
The Happiness-Ever-After.
That was worth anything.
It was good to be a “maid mild.”
That made the breath go fast.

Her bacon burned. She
Hastened to hide it in the step-on can, and
Drew more strips from the meat case. The eggs and sour-milk biscuits
Did well. She set out a jar
Of her new quince preserve.

. . . But there was something about the matter of the Dark Villain.
He should have been older, perhaps.
The hacking down of a villain was more fun to think about
When his menace possessed undisputed breath, undisputed height,
And best of all, when history was cluttered
With the bones of many eaten knights and princesses.

The fun was disturbed, then all but nullified
When the Dark Villain was a blackish child
Of Fourteen, with eyes still too young to be dirty,
And a mouth too young to have lost every reminder
Of its infant softness.

That boy must have been surprised! For
These were grown-ups. Grown-ups were supposed to be wise.
And the Fine Prince–and that other–so tall, so broad, so
Grown! Perhaps the boy had never guessed
That the trouble with grown-ups was that under the magnificent shell of adulthood, just under,
Waited the baby full of tantrums.
It occurred to her that there may have been something
Ridiculous to the picture of the Fine Prince
Rushing (rich with the breadth and height and
Mature solidness whose lack, in the Dark Villain, was impressing her,
Confronting her more and more as this first day after the trial
And acquittal (wore on) rushing
With his heavy companion to hack down (unhorsed)
That little foe. So much had happened, she could not remember now what that foe had done
Against her, or if anything had been done.
The breaks were everywhere. That she could think
Of no thread capable of the necessary
Sew-work.

She made the babies sit in their places at the table.
Then, before calling HIM, she hurried
To the mirror with her comb and lipstick. It was necessary
To be more beautiful than ever.
The beautiful wife.
For sometimes she fancied he looked at her as though
Measuring her. As if he considered, Had she been worth it?
Had she been worth the blood, the cramped cries, the little stirring bravado, The gradual dulling of those Negro eyes,
The sudden, overwhelming little-boyness in that barn?
Whatever she might feel or half-feel, the lipstick necessity was something apart. HE must never conclude
That she had not been worth it.

HE sat down, the Fine Prince, and
Began buttering a biscuit. HE looked at HIS hands.
More papers were in from the North, HE mumbled. More maddening headlines.
With their pepper-words, “bestiality,” and “barbarism,” and
“Shocking.”
The half-sneers HE had mastered for the trial worked across
HIS sweet and pretty face.

What HE’d like to do, HE explained, was kill them all.
The time lost. The unwanted fame.
Still, it had been fun to show those intruders
A thing or two. To show that snappy-eyed mother,
That sassy, Northern, brown-black–

Nothing could stop Mississippi.
HE knew that. Big fella
Knew that.
And, what was so good, Mississippi knew that.
They could send in their petitions, and scar
Their newspapers with bleeding headlines. Their governors
Could appeal to Washington . . .

“What I want,” the older baby said, “is ‘lasses on my jam.”
Whereupon the younger baby
Picked up the molasses pitcher and threw
The molasses in his brother’s face. Instantly
The Fine Prince leaned across the table and slapped
The small and smiling criminal.
She did not speak. When the HAND
Came down and away, and she could look at her child,
At her baby-child,
She could think only of blood.
Surely her baby’s cheek
Had disappeared, and in its place, surely,
Hung a heaviness, a lengthening red, a red that had no end.
She shook her had. It was not true, of course.
It was not true at all. The
Child’s face was as always, the
Color of the paste in her paste-jar.

She left the table, to the tune of the children’s lamentations, which were shriller
Than ever. She
Looked out of a window. She said not a word. That
Was one of the new Somethings–
The fear,
Tying her as with iron.

Suddenly she felt his hands upon her. He had followed her
To the window. The children were whimpering now.
Such bits of tots. And she, their mother,
Could not protect them. She looked at her shoulders, still
Gripped in the claim of his hands. She tried, but could not resist the idea
That a red ooze was seeping, spreading darkly, thickly, slowly,
Over her white shoulders, her own shoulders,
And over all of Earth and Mars.

He whispered something to her, did the Fine Prince, something about love and night and intention.
She heard no hoof-beat of the horse and saw no flash of the shining steel.

He pulled her face around to meet
His, and there it was, close close,
For the first time in all the days and nights.
His mouth, wet and red,
So very, very, very red,
Closed over hers.

Then a sickness heaved within her. The courtroom Coca-Cola,
The courtroom beer and hate and sweat and drone,
Pushed like a wall against her. She wanted to bear it.
But his mouth would not go away and neither would the
Decapitated exclamation points in that Other Woman’s eyes.

She did not scream.
She stood there.
But a hatred for him burst into glorious flower,
And its perfume enclasped them–big,
Bigger than all magnolias.

The last bleak news of the ballad.
The rest of the rugged music.
The last quatrain.

THE BEAN EATERS

They eat beans, this old yellow pair.
Dinner is a casual affair.
Plain chipware on a plain and creaking wood,
Tin flatware.

Two who are Mostly Good.
Two who have lived their day,
But keep on putting on their clothes,
And putting things away.

And remembering…
Remembering, with twinklings and twinges,
As they lean over the beans in their rented back room that
is full of beads and receipts and dolls and cloths
tobacco crumbs, vases and fringes.

References

[1] Richard Rankin Russell, Poetry and Peace, Indiana: University of Notre Dame Press, 2010.

[2] https://www.history.com/this-day-in-history/the-death-of-emmett-till

[3] …although one could ask: is there any deeper meaning than the ‘every day’?

All poems from: Gwendolyn Brooks, Selected Poems, New York: Harper Collins, 1963.

The Indian Farmers’ Protest

by Erica Carmount
illustrations by Jesse Matas

“Nonviolence is a weapon of the strong” -Mahatma Gandhi.

After the Indian government announced three major agricultural reforms, small protests began in August 2020 in the states of Punjab and Haryana. In November, tens of thousands of Indian farmers made their way to the country’s capital where they were met with tear gas and water guns. Having effectively made their way into the city, protestors now occupy roads within Delhi and the five major highways around the city. Protestors include the Dalit and other oppressed castes that typically own little to no land, as well as women farmers who have struggled for decades to gain recognition within the farming industry.

The three Acts intend to upend the current nationwide food marketing system, a system that, while deemed imperfect by farmers, attempts to prevent exploitation while ensuring fair prices and market protection for farmers. As it stands, farmers bring their crops to wholesale markets, also known as “mandis”. Crops are sold to traders through open auctions with transparent pricing determined by the Minimum Support Price (MSP). The MSP is a price floor determined by the government. It ensures that farmers can always sell their rice, cotton and wheat to the government’s purchasing agent. After purchase, the crops go to a secondary market or are stored by the buyers before they are sent out for future sales.

The first Act, The Farmers’ Produce Trade and Commerce (Promotion and Facilitation) Act attempts to create unregulated trading spaces outside of the mandis so that farmers are free to sell their crops to private buyers rather than through the state. The concern is that two markets would form, one regulated by wholesale market rules and another deregulated market wherein corporations would stand to take advantage of farmers.

The second Act, The Farmers (Empowerment and Protection) Agreement of Price Assurance and Farm Services Act, would allow farmers to form deals with traders with no government oversight. The concern is that without government intervention, farmers would be at the misery of big corporations who might set exploitive terms or remove them from the industry all together.

Lastly, the third Act, The Farm Services and the Essential Commodities (Amendment) Act, serves to eliminate any storage limitations which would allow anyone with money to stock up, potentially distorting crop prices.

Farmers worry that the deregulation of markets and the corporatization of the farming industry would have catastrophic consequences on the 70% of rural households that rely on agriculture as their livelihood.  

Indian Prime Minister Narendra Modi, his ministers, and other pro-open-market reformists argue that this new legislation will allow greater play of market forces in the agriculture sector. Private investment is expected to boost productivity, improve farm incomes, attract investment and new technologies, and generate employment.

Before the Green Revolution in the 1960s, India was incapable of producing enough food to feed its growing population. High-yielding varieties of rice and wheat were introduced during the late 1960s in an attempt to alleviate hunger and poverty. Through the adoption of modern methods and technology, India was able to double its output of rice and wheat. However, these methods also resulted in the loss of distinct indigenous crops from cultivation, and the overuse of chemical fertilizers, pesticides and irrigation which caused large plots of land to become infertile.

Today, in a country of nearly 1.4 billion, half of India’s population relies on agricultural income. According to the FAO in 2016, India’s agriculture sector employed 59% of the country’s total workforce yet accounted for only 23% of GDP. Today, the percentage of GDP is estimated to be less than 18%. Likewise, 70% of rural households depend on agriculture, 82% of which are small marginal farmers.

Other problems plaguing India’s agriculture include low productivity, shrinking plots, decreasing incomes, lack of storage infrastructure, high indebtedness, high input-costs, technology fatigue, inappropriate fertilizer usage, low seed replacement rates, degradation of arable land and water, and limited access to markets and credit. This has resulted in a disproportionately high suicide rate amongst Indian farmers. Around 257, 000 farmers committed suicide between 1995 and 2010. Approximately 20,638 farmers committed suicide in 2018 and 2019.

It is not hard to see why, then, some have deemed the protest a product of the failed Green Revolution.

To see the effects of deregulation, corporatization and the fate that awaits India, one must look to the United States of America. The New Deal of the 1930s brought to the US a price floor for farmers, ensuring that they received a minimum wage for their crops. However, laissez-faire policies took over in the 1970s and now the global market determines the price of produce in the US.

Between 2011 and 2018, the US lost more than 100,000 farms, 12,000 of those between 2017 and 2018 alone. In 2019, farm debt reached $416 billion as commodity prices continued to fall.

Technological improvements did make farming more efficient, but it primarily benefited corporate farmers who could afford major upgrades. As a result, while farms with 1000-2000 acres fell by 44% between 1987 and 2012, farms with 2000 plus acres doubled in that same period. Globalization did bring higher productivity and, as Modi put it, more freedom to farmers to sell their crops to private buyers, but it also flooded the market with commodities, effectively lowering prices.

As a result, small farming is no longer an option. Small farms, those making less than $350,000 a year, accounted for just a quarter of food production in 2017, half of what it was in 1991. Rural America has been shrinking for decades as people move to cities to look for work.

Bad government policy is single handedly destroying the US agriculture industry and, with it, rural America. 

Therefore, the question is not why is no one talking about the protest in India but why is no one talking about the global agricultural crisis?

About The Author • Erica Carmount is in her second term of the MPACS program. She is passionate about food security and the factors that impact it. Being a foodie, she advocates for food producers and a farm-to-fork framework.

About The Illustrator • Jesse Matas is a father, husband, visual artist, poet, musician, and peace scholar. He is also passionate about food and food security. He hopes that people can move away from coporatization of food-systems and towards small-scale, healthy systems of agriculture. Visit www.jessematas.com for more.

Every Day is Black History Month

By Ndagire Brendah

Photo Credit: Bustle

Every day is Black History Month where I come from. That, however, changes when you are an African living in the North American diaspora where February was set aside as a month to celebrate the stories and experiences of Black people and their contribution to the North American story and identity. 

As I settle into my new role at the Peace and Conflict Studies (PACS) department, and as I get comfortable creating yet another new home in a different part of the world (that is Ontario, Canada) I am observing the responsibility of recognizing events, days, holidays, or months that I need to observe; events that I never observed back in my primary home in Uganda.  

I am also observing that many White North Americans do not celebrate Black History Month. They seem unaware of the month, or they know about Black History Month but choose not to recognize it. Indeed, some resent the very existence of Black History Month, arguing why the month exists and/or why there is not a White History Month. White Americans do not have a White History Month for the same reasons we do not have a Black History Month in Uganda. I hope this parallel settles the dust. But it won’t because any celebration of Black life, existence, dignity and/or identity is often in tension with predominant culture. The latter asks the question, “why black history month?” and the inquiry seems to be not necessarily interested in the reasons behind the story of Black celebration rather in the how dare you make me recognize and/or reflect on your existence, my shame, and my historical and continued harm against your Blackness. 

However, even as the inquiry is interested in the denial of Black existence, White shame and recognition of White harm, Black History Month is not about White America, its shame, guilt or historical and/or continued systematic harm. The month is about decentering all of that, and instead centering on Black joy, healing, dignity, resilience, collective power, love, freedom, liberation, creativity, and beauty. Think about Black History Month as a gift to White America to pause and observe the month for what it is, and what it is about, it is on-going practice of Black joy, healing, dignity, resilience, collective power, love, freedom, liberation, creativity, and beauty, and White America is welcome to participate in it, only if, they choose to accept the gift. And as a diasporic African who becomes Black in a North American World, I accept the gift that is Black History Month even as I argue that this gift is something that should be made available every single day of the year, not just in the shortest month of the year. But I will take the bare the minimum. 

About the Author • Ndagire Brendah is a recent graduate of Master of Peace and Conflict Studies from the University of Waterloo. She has focused many of her research projects on understanding the experiences of women at the grass-root levels in East Africa and Latin America, with different forms of violence, especially armed violence, sexual and gender-based violence, and their role in peacebuilding processes.

You said Speak

by Rebecca Chinamasa

You said speak. I will. I am a visitor in your home. I come with many things, some good, some bad some painful, some joyous, some scarring, but combined they make me who I am.

In your home, I look different, I act different, I sound different or as some would say, ‘funny’. Because of the path I have travelled, some of you look different too, and act different, and sound different. Some look familiar but act different and sound different, in my journey I have seen, experienced and felt different. I have learnt to adapt and to be joyful with all differences because in the end, kindness, love and strength, comes from that which is different. I am eager to learn of the things you have in your home, the spirit rooted in the foundation of your home that makes it the home it is. I am eager to learn of the things you know and come with the hope that you too will learn from me.

What I had forgotten in coming here is that different may bring wounds because it may not be accepted. I forgot to go lightly. I was excited at the soul that I thought was part of your home and so I came in with joy. I do not smile anymore. I am being told to be like a jack in the box on an assembly line. To fit in a box and to spring out just so…like all the other jacks in the box, not to be different, otherwise I will not fit in. You say speak, but how can I, if that will be different from the others, If it will mean rejection. Perhaps I have been rejected already because I do not sound the same, I do not act the same, I do not feel the same and I have not earned the right to be called a part of your home. I am different.

For now, my home is here, so I must conform.  I stand next to you as part of your family and am introduced as such when visitors come. I look at them and see different, different…like me. A different that I understand because I passed through what they passed through to get here. I watch the visitors and understand them and feel a connection. I see pain, I see suffering, I see fear, I see resilience, I see strength and I see a burning desire to find a resting place in their journey. Then I look at you as you look at them, I see annoyance when they ask questions, I see superiority in your posture and in your words when you look at them and talk to them. I see the faces that say, “We know more” and I see condescension mistaken for empathy and compassion. I stand next to you and the badge I wear becomes a branding of shame. I want to go to the visitors and look into their eyes and ask for forgiveness and understanding because in this home they think they know you, but they do not. I want to hold their hands and say, ‘I see you and it is alright to be different, do not ever be put into a box”. But I do not. When the visitors leave, I go and write notes using words like ‘non-compliant” which I have come to loathe as it means, they questioned and refused. I want to say, speak to them, understand them, show kindness, show humility, embrace different…but they know what they know. I am like a fraudulent missionary in a residential school because I am seeking conformity when I am different.

Allow me to be different, accept me and try to know me. Forgive my ignorance of what you know and teach me BUT learn from me as well and see value in what I have seen in my journey of life. Do not say we like different, it is not enough. Embrace different and teach different, let different be what defines your home so that as visitors come in they feel it and see it and hear it and feel at home. Kindness is not doing what is expected and it does not have to be big, a kind word and genuineness which can be seen in your eyes and affirmed in your manner. When you do this then I will speak.

About The Author • Rebecca Chinamasa is a Mother, a daughter, a sister, a Registered Nurse and a proud African black woman. In addition to her BSc in Nursing she holds a BA in Humanities and Social Sciences and is in her last semester of the Masters in Peace and Conflict Studies and awaiting admission into the Masters in Public Health. Originally from Zimbabwe, Rebecca is passionate about race and gender issues and how conflict can be resolved through dialogue. 

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