Losing Confidence II

In my next couple of posts on Elizabeth May's latest book, Losing Confidence: Power, Politics, and the Crisis in Canadian Democracy, I'm going to look at a few different points, all of which revolve more or less around the central theme of information.

It comes as no surprise that information and the reaction to information weaves itself into a number of May's arguments, as her book focuses on democracy in Canada. It is impossible to have a democratic society without well-informed citizens. How could we choose who best to represent us if we knew nothing about them? What I'd like to look at first is one of the sources of information in a democratic society: experts. An expert is, for the purposes of this post, someone who knows a great deal more about a specific area than the general population. These people are highly valuable in the operation of a good government, as they are in a role to make better-informed decisions than your average person. This is not to say that they are always right, just to say that their opinions should be considered (always keep in mind Bertrand Russel's essay "On the Value of Skepticism.").

Curiously enough, experts are not often given the deference they are due. We can see this both on the part of the population in general and on the part of the government. The recent H1N1 Flu panic is an example of the population not heeding the advice of experts: the World Health Organisation has published a good deal of helpful and insightful information, none of which includes the advice "panic and act irrationally." Even governments are susceptible to panic, as we can see in the case of Egypt, who is slaughtering all of its pigs, despite the fact that pigs are not the most likely cause of the disease in humans, and despite the fact that such slaughter will ruin thousands of lives and livelihoods. The example of the Egyptian government shows us the grave damage that can be caused by a government that willfully ignores the advice of experts.

We can see instances of damaging ignorance in our current government and the recent government of the US. Think of Bill C-61, the Conservatives' now-dead attempt to reform the Copyright Act, that completely ran against the advice of copyright experts like Michael Geist. Or look to the Bush government, who invited novelist Michael Crichton to serve as an expert witness on climate change. While I do not wish to undermine the great amount of effort that a novelist might put into his work, I doubt very much whether Crichton was the right choice for this particular job.

May reminds us that this willful ignorance does not have to be so. When talking about her term as senior policy advisor to federal minister of environment Tom McMillan (under Mulroney's Conservative government), May tells us that she "was frequently directed to keep the opposition critics up to speed on key files" (45). The constant collaboration of experts would benefit the country greatly. Indeed, if we return to the issue of H1N1, we can see a glimmer of promise with Canada's most recent minister of health, Leona Aglukkaq:

If there were fears she might be ill-prepared for such stuff, they’ve initially been calmed. If only, it seems, because she would seem for now to understand how poorly prepared to manage a worldwide health crisis she—or anyone—may be. In public, she has deferred to the experts around her. In private, she has gathered opposition MPs for consultation. In Question Period, she has provided straightforward answers. Asked after one session this week to clarify a previous statement, she stood, admitted her mistake and thanked the opposition critic for the opportunity to correct the record. (via Maclean's)

We can only hope that such behaviour will become the new baseline, rather than a noteworthy oddity.

Losing Confidence I

I devoured Elizabeth May's latest book, Losing Confidence: Power, Politics, and the Crisis in Canadian Democracy, over the course of two days. However quickly I read it, I feel that I need a longer time to respond to it. There's a lot of information in there, and as such I'll be posting a few blog entries over the next little while, each of which takes up a different aspect of the book.

The first thing I want to look at is the mere fact that this book exists. I think it's very important to a democracy to have political figures publishing books in which they examine the ins and outs of the country. The party system leads to the creation of party platforms that are delivered soon before an election, and that tend to remain dormant in the interim. We sometimes get mail from our local MPs that outline what they or the party have been up to, but these pamphlets tend to be about the length of the "How I See It" quotes on the side of a Starbucks coffee cup.

Books, on the other hand, give us a unique chance to really get into the head of our politicians, to have an extended conversation with them. I feel that over the course of Losing Confidence's 241 pages, I've gotten to know Elizabeth May in a way that I never have before. Here I see the Elizabeth May that I only barely got a chance to glimpse in the leadership debates: smart, well-informed, articulate, quick thinking. Because of their length, books force authors to go into great detail on the topic at hand. This is a great boon in the TV dominated political culture of Canada, as politicians can no longer hide behind snappy sound bites: ill-thought out ideas tend to feel bloated and often unravel over the course of a book.

It is no surprise then, to see the numbers of books each party leader has to his or her name: Losing Confidence is Elizabeth May's seventh book; Liberal Leader Michael Ignatieff has published a small library; the NDP's Jack Layton has penned at least four volumes; and Stephen Harper, prime minister and leader of the Conservative party, appears to have written not one book. These books seem consistent with each respective party's image: Layton and May have published a number of books that urge community involvement and grass-roots activism; Ignatieff, a professor, has published countless books that explore the history and philosophical implications of a number of major world conflicts; and Harper's lack of books speaks to his iron grip on the flow of information. The only surprise amongst the party leaders is Gilles Duceppe, who has published only one book. I find this so surprising because francophone culture is the foundation of the Bloc Québécois, and as such it seems odd that that party's leader would have contributed so little to the discussion surrounding that culture.

Ultimately, Losing Confidence is a strong addition to the library of anyone interested in Canadian politics. May manages to write a book that deals with the failings of our modern political climate without resorting to partisan politics. At the same time, May's book elaborates on the Green party's platform and May's own politics, revealing a set of noble and nuanced goals, of which the preservation of the environment is but one. Canadians would all benefit if politicians were to follow May's example and write thoughtful analyses of the system with which they are so familiar.

Why I do this.

I've always been excited by the teaching aspect of being a prof. Don't get me wrong, the research part excites me more than should be allowed in a sane human being, but I don't know that I could follow this career path if it weren't for the promise of being able to spend some of my time teaching students. Thus far, I've only had two chances to stand at the front of the classroom, however, so teaching, for the most part, remains an unrealised dream.

My one outlet has been working at the Centre for Writers. As trying as it can be some days (students coming to see you with essays they're supposed to be handing in half an hour from now tend to get to you), I've always found it rewarding, and would never have traded it for anything. That said, it's the summer now, and I've switched off of teaching mode and into summer researcher mode.

Today brought a nice surprise. The mail guy dropped off a few items, and, as usual, I paid no attention, as no one sends mail to the research assistants--why would they? Except for when someone does. There, amongst a pile of parcels, was a small envelope addressed to me. I looked at the name on the return address, failed to recognise it, and gently opened the envelope. Inside it was the kindest thank-you note from a student who had come to me with help for his/her (privacy, people) grad school application. The student informed me that he/she had been accepted to the programme, and would be starting in September.

As I read over the letter, I felt awash in a sense of pride and accomplishment. There's nothing like the feeling that you've helped someone move closer to their goals, given them the tools they'll need to succeed. The note reaffirmed to me why I'm doing this, let me know that I, too, am moving closer to my goals. Heck, it even let me know that I've already accomplished one of them.

Today was a good day.

Big Ideas (Don't Get Any)

I'm in awe of this cover of Radiohead's song "Nude." I'd love to see more songs done in this style.


Big Ideas (don't get any) from James Houston on Vimeo.

Still confident in Losing Confidence

I picked up Elizabeth May's latest book, Losing Confidence today, and while I haven't read enough of it to comment on her arguments, something did catch my eye that I feel the need to mention. As is far too common these days (see my most recent post for another prime example), May's book bears a surprisingly broad copyright notice:

All rights reserved. The use of any part of this publication reproduced, transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise, or stored in a retrieval system, without the prior written consent of the publisher--or in case of photocopying or other reprographic copying, a licence from the Canadian Copyright Licensing Agency--is an infringement of the copyright law.

There are two things I find particularly bothersome about this copyright notice. The first is that so sweeping a statement contradicts the rights all Canadians are given under the Fair Dealing exemptions in the copyright act. I shouldn't be surprised by this, as almost every book you purchase will likely have a similarly broad statement. That said, I still find it irritating, as these statements contribute to the growing confusion of what is and is not permitted by copyright law.

The second thing I find so frustrating is that this broad copyright claim actually runs against one of the points of May's book (as I've gleaned so far): the Canadian political crisis can only be solved through the active involvement of Canadians. How, then, are we supposed to actively involve ourselves when we're not even allowed to reproduce any part of May's book "in any form or by any means [...] without the prior written consent of the publisher [...] or a licence from the Canadian Copyright Licensing Agency"? It seems to me that we cannot participate without responding to the very texts that challenge us to do so; indeed, I suspect that May would be rather pleased to see people quoting from her work and taking it on, whether they agreed or disagreed with her. I also imagine that May herself would never intend for the copyright notice to deter anyone from engaging with her arguments

The big problem, as I see it, is that although we are likely expected to quote from the book, to respond to it, to build off it, the words on the page tell us otherwise. While these sweeping copyright notices are a common mistake, it's disappointing to see one in a book in which one of the main messages is to get involved. While I don't expect every author to use a Creative Commons licence, it would be nice to--at the very least--see a copyright notice that actually reflects the law. Indeed, perhaps the notice I'd like to see most reads simply "All rights reserved."