Stephen Harper, Prime Minister of Canada, how can you face yourself in the mirror?

Your refusal to meet Chief Theresa Spence–and your callous treatment of First Nations treaties– is nothing short of a national disgrace.

For those outside our country, Theresa Spence, chief of the Attawapiskat First Nation, is camped on Victoria Island, a stones throw from the Parliament of Canada, on a hunger strike that will end when the Prime Minister agrees to a meeting.

This is the third week that Chief Spence has had to endure the Prime Minister’s criminal indifference.

The issues concern government negligence of treaty rights contributing to shocking health and living conditions on First Nations reserves.

It is my belief that if Canadians saw these conditions first-hand they would be deeply ashamed.

Meanwhile, Harper government apologist, Senator Patrick Brazeau, suggests that Chief Spence go through “proper parliamentary processes.”

Chief Spence appears to me to be a very sensible person. She has, no doubt, exhausted herself adhering to “proper parliamentary processes” to no avail.

Senator Brazeau, an Algonquin, should know better.

His response to Chief Spence’s call for more consulation between the government and First Nations is Orwellian: “The word ‘consultation’ is such a broad word. People will have their different definitions and interpretations of what exactly that means.”

Disgusting.

The plight of First Nations people has deteriorated under the Harper regime.

Shawn Atleo, head of the Assembly of First Nations issued the following statement:

“Now more than ever, we must see immediate and urgent attention and concrete commitments by government to work together with first nations to address the unfulfilled promises, commitments and agreements that leave first nations people struggling to meet the basic standards of life on a daily basis.”

Wake up Canada. Our indifference–and our Prime Minister’s neglect– is killing people.

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Dear Friends:

Like me, I am sure that you have been deeply disturbed by the violence that killed 20 children and six school staff in Newton, Connecticut.

The NRA has offered a mind-blowing solution to gun violence in schools–armed guards.

The only thing that can stop a bad guy with a gun, they reason, is a good guy with a gun.

You are probably also horrified by the prospect that 40,000 people have been killed since the uprising began in Syria.

Israel, Palestine, Egypt, Afghanistan and Iran are all in varying states of combustion and violence.

In DR Congo, hundreds of children remain separated from their families and a million people have been displaced as fighting rages in Goma.

Here at home, violence and murder targetting Aboriginal women is epidemic.

The Government of Canada has steadfastly refused to commission an investigation into why law enforcement has done so little to protect one of the most vulnerable groups in our society.

Not our job, they claim.

It’s easy amidst such conditions to throw up our hands in disgust and lose faith.

In the face of such difficult circumstances we are not asked to do the easy thing.

We are called to do something much more challenging.

Love harder.

At this time of year, whether you honor Christmas, Hanukah, Kwanzaa, Festivus or the Solstice, use the occassion of gathering with family, friends and especially strangers in solidarity against hatred, fear and violence.

Guns can’t kill love, friendship, compassion, generosity, and goodwill.

Let’s remember that as we commit to the healing that needs to come into our world.

“When I stand before thee at the day’s end, thou shalt see my scars and know that I had my wounds and also my healing,” wrote Rabindranath Tagore.

Merry Christmas to all.

© Patrick O’Neill 2012. All rights reserved.

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I went to see Leonard Cohen on Tuesday night at the Air Canada Center. Thanks to the Davis Brothers for the invitation. We had great seats in a private box with clear sightlines to the stage.
 
Leonard, at 78, is a phenomena. This is the Old Ideas tour and Lennie is in fine voice. Lynne and I saw him last time he passed through Toronto, two years back. It was a great show in a smaller venue. I was worried how he would do in the cavenous sports arena.
 
Nothing to worry about. He cut the room to half the size during his first number and by the end of the night managed to shrink it down to a living room performance for his closest friends.
 
There is nothing like Leonard Cohen out there. Looking like a Rat Pack survivor in a fedora and sharp suit, Leonard spent much of the performance on his knees, a mythological supplicant to God, a woman, the dark.
 
“I wonder if he can get back up,” said my wife. “I know,” said I. “I’d need some help getting off of my knees.”
 
Leonard was up and down all night, a master of sincerity and seduction like a two-headed coin. The old songs were all there: Suzanne, Who by Fire, Sisters of Mercy and Halleluja. So too were the new.
 
Hi band was smooth and tight, featuring Javier Mas on the 12-string bandurria, Neil Larsen oh Hammond B-3 organ, and Bob Metzger on steel guitar. The back-up singers– Sharon Robinson and the Webb sisters–were, in Leonards words, “sublime.”
 
Here’s a lyric from Old Ideas that proves that you can get better with age:
 
“I love to speak with Leonard
 
He’s a sportsman and a shepherd
 
He’s a lazy bastard
 
Living in a suit
 
But he does say what I tell him
 
Even though it isn’t welcome
 
He just doesn’t have the freedom
 
To refuse
 
He will speak these words of wisdom
 
Like a sage, a man of vision
 
Though he knows he’s really nothing
 
But the brief elaboration of a tube
 
Going home
 
Without my sorrow
 
Going home
 
Sometime tomorrow
 
Going home
 
To where it’s better
 
Than before
 
Going home
 
Without my burden
 
Going home
 
Behind the curtain
 
Going home
 
Without the costume
 
That I wore
 
He wants to write a love song
 
An anthem of forgiving
 
A manual for living with defeat
 
A cry above the suffering
 
A sacrifice recovering
 
But that isn’t what I need him to complete
 
I want to make him certain
 
That he doesn’t have a burden
 
That he doesn’t need a vision
 
That he only has permission
 
To do my instant bidding
 
Which is to SAY what I have told him
 
To repeat
 
Going home…
 
I love to speak with Leonard
 
He’s a sportsman and a shepherd
 
He’s a lazy bastard
 
Living in a suit”
 
Ah, Leonard. To be young and vital is nothing. To be old and vital….that’s sorcery! See you on your next tour, rock star.
 
© Patrick O’Neill 2012. All rights reserved.

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