Court decision on homeless 'camping' is ticket to real change

So now people can sleep in our city parks, but have to be gone first thing in the morning. Hope somebody at city hall is developing a Plan B, because I sure don’t see that 7 a.m.-curfew stuff working out to anybody’s satisfaction for very long.
Here’s the thing about last week’s B.C. Supreme Court judgment that brought us to this point: It’s one of the most powerful tools to emerge so far as a means of ending homelessness.
Dealing with our problems requires political will, which in turn requires community outrage. The spectre of hundreds of people sleeping in our parks every night - even if rousted by 7 a.m. - will quickly generate all the outrage we need to get this ball rolling at long last. In fact, it has already wrested 85 new beds out of the province, none of which had even been hinted at until the judgment came down.
B.C.’s highest court essentially ruled that because there aren’t nearly enough shelter beds for everyone on our streets, the people who have to spend the night outside have the right to put a tarp over their heads while they’re sleeping. Hardly an extreme position to take.
A smart city would respond to such a ruling by using it to bully and push other levels of government into compliance around making things happen on the homeless front. A stop-gap bylaw that misses the point of the judgment won’t get us far.
With municipal elections coming up next month and a provincial election in the spring, hold your representatives accountable for what they’re going to do about homelessness. I’ve put a few questions on my blog at http://closer-look.blogspot.com that I think are important to ask.
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An enormous thanks to all the people who responded to my Oct. 3 column by donating goods and volunteer time to a big gathering we put on for the street community last week.
We saw more than 500 people through the door at the region’s first-ever Project Connect, which I organized on behalf of the Greater Victoria Coalition to End Homelessness. In my column I’d asked readers to help us by volunteering their time and buying some of the goods for the 500 “survival packs” we wanted to hand out at the end of the day.
You came through in every possible way. We ended up with an abundance of everything, including that most precious of commodities: People’s time. You donated socks, gloves, personal products, rain ponchos, blankets, thermal shirts, hats and more, but more importantly you gave us your time to ensure we’d be able to pull the whole thing off.
More than 120 people volunteered that day and in the intense week leading up to the event. I can’t thank them enough for their help, and hope in turn that the gift the event gave them was the chance to meet - with open hearts - the very interesting and often heartwrenching people stuck in the middle of this thing we call “homelessness.”
(Visit http://streetstories.blip.tv for Christopher Bower’s moving video vignettes of some of the people on hand that day.)
Thanks as well to the two dozen-plus service agencies and professionals who showed up that day to help people in whatever way they could. We saw an impressive array of services delivered in a single room on a single day. A standing ovation to Gordon Fry and the Capital Lions Club in particular, who served up 1,000 burgers and 500 dogs with astounding efficiency.
It was still just one day, of course, and one day does not a solution make. But what I witnessed that day was a new way of doing business in terms of service delivery, and a powerful way to bring together the mainstream and street communities to work together on addressing the many problems at the root of modern-day homelessness.
We’ll do it again sometime soon, and hopefully again and again. When the day comes that we actually have housing to offer people, a Connect event will be a great way to make that happen. In the meantime, we’re really going to have to build, renovate and hang onto any and all cheap forms of housing, because we simply don’t have anywhere near enough of it to meet the need.
For those who made it happen last week, thanks for a magical day. A special thanks to the street community for their respectful participation, and willingness to share their stories one more time in the hope of bringing about real change.

With a municipal vote coming up in the Capital Region in November, here's a few questions that might help you quiz your municipal candidates as to what they plan to do about homelessness in the region if elected:


CANDIDATE QUESTIONS

What do you think are the reasons Victoria has such visible problems around homelessness and street issues?

How do you think those problems should be handled?

Where do homelessness and street issues rate in your list of priorities for the city?

How would you describe your own level of knowledge on this subject? How did you come by that knowledge?

Please describe an “ideal world” around homelessness in terms of which levels of government would assume most responsibility for dealing with the issue. What are the responsibilities of:
the federal government?
The provincial government?
Municipal and regional government?
The business community?
Individual citizens?

If elected, how would you demonstrate leadership in tackling the issues in Victoria and holding other levels of government accountable for their own areas of responsibility?

How would you get around the many challenges that other politicians have faced on this issue? Please tell us what you’d do to manage each of the following challenges:
-lack of regional buy-in,
-no certainty around funding for new construction, land, operating costs,
concentration of street services in the downtown core
-"silos" of service and a lack of co-ordination in service delivery
-NIMBYism,
-lack of addiction services,
-tight vacancy rate,
-lack of affordable, supported housing,
-mental illness on the street
-open selling and using of drugs
-crime and vandalism affecting people who live, work and shop in the downtown

1860s-era NYC tenement brings modern times to mind
Oct. 10, 2008

Children falling sick - even dying - from milk contaminated by unscrupulous suppliers. Families struggling in substandard, overcrowded housing.
Sound familiar? It could easily be a story ripped from today’s headlines. But in fact it was 1860s New York City, in the crowded tenements of the Lower East Side.
I heard the story last week on a visit to NYC. Tipped off by a Victoria acquaintance we ran into on the ferry to Ellis Island, we took her advice and visited the New York Tenement Museum, where I found myself in a small, dark apartment that in 1869 had been the home of an Irish immigrant family.
The Moores had four children, one of whom died that year at the tender age of four months from the “swill milk” commonly sold to impoverished families. As has just happened in modern-day China, the milk was being diluted to increase profit, in this case with water, chalk and ammonia.
Hard to escape a certain sense of déjà vu when you hear a story like that. It wasn’t the only one I heard that day with troubling parallels to modern times.
The museum constructs its program around a tenement built in 1863 on Orchard Street by an immigrant tailor from Germany. More than 7,000 people subsequently lived in the five-storey building over the next 70 years, until tougher health codes finally shut the place down.
The museum’s tours are built around the lives of the actual families who lived in the apartments, their stories painstakingly stitched together from census data and genealogical research.
Those were tough times. The Lower East Side was awash in poverty and people, and the city was struggling to develop health standards as a new understanding developed of how disease spread.
It’s interesting to compare the way things were handled then and now. Back then, the public health authorities dealt with the problems of inadequate housing by demanding improvements - in the case of the Moores’ building, a minimum of two indoor toilets per floor and running cold water to every flat.
I’m sure the landlords didn’t like it. But they lived with it, and held the rents at about 30 per cent of the typical family income. Today, the more likely action would be to condemn the building and order the tenants out, with no other place for them to live. It’s not exactly what you’d call progress.
Life was pretty miserable for the Moores and their neighbours, and I don’t mean to suggest that there haven’t been improvements since those bleak days.
But as awful as it was for poor people in the 1860s, things were in fact improving for those living in poverty at that time - fewer dead babies every year, better living conditions, new and better care for sick people. Can we make the same claim now?
The 20-year-old tenement museum was set up by the International Coalition of Sites of Conscience, a group of museums and historical sites with an interest in raising awareness of past injustices and struggles. After our tour, we shared popcorn and ice tea with our little group of fellow travellers at a session facilitated by museum staff - a “kitchen conversation” designed to get people reflecting on what they’d seen.
Our group included a couple from Oakland, Calif., and four British travellers from London and Birmingham. As talk turned to housing in our own home towns, everyone reported similar problems: an erosion of supported housing programs; more people on the streets; the emergence of what appeared to be a permanent underclass.
(“In Canada?” the woman from California asked us incredulously. “I thought you were the ones who were doing things better than us!”)
The building where the Moores lived was a grim place: 120 people sharing four outhouses and one water pump at the back of the building, families with three or more kids squeezed into 325 square feet of space.
We don’t tolerate tenement buildings like that anymore, it’s true. But we can hardly claim the moral high ground given that children are still dying by the dozen from swill milk, and tens of thousands of Canadians don’t even have running water and an indoor toilet, let alone 325 square feet to call their own.
The Moore family eventually moved to a nicer building. Their three children grew up, got jobs, bought houses, and lived better lives than their parents.
Life was bad back then, but it was getting better. A century and a half later, we can’t make the same claim.

Text of a speech I gave at the University of Victoria Oct. 7 as the Harvey Stevenson Southam lecturer:

Thank you so much for coming tonight, and I’d especially like to thank the Southam family, both for giving me the opportunity to speak this evening and to teach a journalism course this fall at the University of Victoria. Both are pleasures I never expected to have, and that I’m enjoying very much.

What I’ll be talking about this evening is this thing we call “media, ” and the role I think it needs to play in leading change in our communities. Seeing as some of what I’m going to be talking about will be about understanding the difference between being passionate versus being biased, I guess I’ll identify myself right off as being biased in terms of believing that change DOES need to come in our communities, on many front, but at the same time I work very hard to keep myself completely open-minded around the ways that we might go about achieving that change.

Of course, I want to use the sweeping label “media” carefully when talking about the shortcomings of the industry, because there are any number of exceptional journalists in Canada and around the world who are already leading change and doing exactly the things I’ll be talking about tonight. Nor would I want my criticisms to be misconstrued as focusing on solely about our local media, as there are some exceptional journalists right here in our town. But I still see plenty of room for improvement in this community and across the country in terms of local journalists participating in powerful, informed and relevant story-telling that helps bring about real change.

I think that’s what all of us in this business actually set out to do, and what we desperately need to get back to both for the good of our communities and of our profession.

I suppose that’s what I’m really talking about: The need for individual journalists to think about the work they’re doing, and the part they’re playing - or not playing - in making things better or worse in their community. Are they comforting the afflicted and afflicting the comfortable, as the late journalist Finlay Peter Dunne once said ought to be the goal for all of us? Or are they succumbing to what I’ve come to think of as ‘drive-by journalism’ - in, out, and gone in a flash to the next story, and the next, and the next? Are they bringing their own passion for issues into their writing?

It’s funny, whenever I bring that up to a journalist, they immediately assume that it would mean showing bias in their writing, and that’s just not allowed. They think that caring about an issue is the same thing as being biased about it - a journalism no-no from way back.

But the truth is, you can care about something - you can have real passion for it - without being biased. Bias means deliberately leaving out aspects of the story that you disagree with or fear will undermine your own position. Passion means writing about ALL the aspects of an issue - the good, the bad and the ugly - and caring enough to bring all of it to the reader with clarity, context, historic relevance and honesty.

I’ve been a journalist since 1982, and still consider myself one despite having more or less left the profession four years ago.

I can’t claim to be an expert on anything that I’m saying tonight, except in the sense of having seen it all and done it all for myself these past 26 years, both as a writer and manager in the media , and as an avid reader of the particular stream of information known as “news.”

The world is a very different place than it was when I first went into journalism, but you can say that about just about any industry these days. In truth, the basic job has by and large stayed the same: Go out and find the news and bring it back for your readers and viewers - making money for your owners in the process by creating a product that’s good enough to buy, and good enough for advertisers to want to be part of.

I’ve never had a problem with the idea that a good paper can also be a profitable one.

So it’s that part about being “good” that I’d like to focus on for now. Do we have “good” media in Canada right now? Are journalists producing good stories? And what IS a good story, anyway - one that sells the most newspapers? Gets the biggest play on the front page? Scandalizes the most people? Provides the most useful and relevant information to the people who most need it? Gets read and talked about by the most number of people? Solves the problem? Embarrasses the most politicians? Galvanizes the community?

All of the above on any given day, of course, and depending on the story. In a dream world, readers and viewers would take in their daily media knowing absolutely that they were getting the most important, useful and relevant news of the day,
and that it was being provided by journalists who they completely trusted to make the right decisions in terms of which news to select for them.

The individual journalist has a lot of power in making that decision. While there may be a few newsrooms out there where one of those tough-as-nails Hollywood style city editors are still barking out the story assignments, I can tell you that by and large it’s the individual journalist who will be selecting the stories that he or she will be working on, interviewing the people who they think will tell that story best, choosing the angle that the story will be told from, and digging up the relevant details and statistics that will help them tell the story better.

It’s far from a perfect science. Great stories go untold, and ridiculous ones get into the media all the time.

Easy stories are chosen over more complex ones, because they lend themselves nicely to two phone calls and who’s got the time for more than that, anyway? Stories that take a long time to tell are passed over in favour of ones that can be told right now and then forgotten. That’s the essence of drive-by journalism - important and multi-faceted community issues reduced to two sound bytes, one for and one against, destined to be forgotten by the next day as another day of drive-by stories stacks up on top of it.

I won’t tell you for a minute that all of this was “better in the old days” or anything like that - we have long been a profession enamoured of the drive-by, albeit with some wonderful exceptions from time to time.

But notable exceptions aside, the media as a rule have not been leaders of the public conversation at any given point in time, but more like the documenters of the status quo. When it was politically acceptable to refer to Chinese people as chinks and the “yellow peril” back at the turn of the last century, journalists were right in there calling them those names.

But there’s no reason for us to follow rather than lead. The great journalists - Hunter Thompson, Tom Wolfe, Joan Didion, and people like Stephanie Nolen in more recent times - were always taking risks in their writing, and approaching subjects from then-controversial points of view.

I just reread an old Hunter Thompson piece from the 1960s that I’m using in my university class this term, one that he wrote about the Hell’s Angels back when no one had ever heard of the biker gang.

More than 40 years have passed since he wrote it, and yet it’s still every bit as relevant today for what it says about the way to write about people from the margins. Thompson nailed down all the myths and the rumours that were swirling around California in those days about the motorcycle gang. He snuck into a Hell’s Angels meeting, then worked his charm sufficiently when caught out that they actually invited him back to party with them. What came out of all of it was a story that laid to rest some of the hysterical statements being made about the Angels in the broader community.

At the same time, it revealed the dark nature of the bike gang’s style of revenge that was in fact much more frightening than any of the uninformed bogey-man type tales that had been swirling around in the mainstream press.

A different time, a different place, yes. Hunter Thompson was writing a piece for Esquire magazine, and was no doubt given much more leeway from his editors and time to craft his piece. He was no joe-average newspaper journalist caught up in the daily grind, with a deadline looming over him. And covering the Hell’s Angels is obviously a hell of an assignment - gosh, who COULDN’T get a great piece out of that?
OK, so a daily reporter isn’t going to churn out an Esquire-ready masterpiece most days.

But nothing stops a journalist from at least borrowing some of the strategies and techniques of the masters of engaged journalism. Nothing stops us from seeing - doing - FEELING a story, with all due respect to the obvious constraints of time and resources. And that’s ultimately where I think we need to change - as individual journalists -- - both for reasons of staying relevant in this Age of Information but also to be the powerful story tellers who can identify problems and lead change in our communities.

For an example, let’s take a look at a subject near and dear to my heart: Homelessness. My career in journalism has coincidentally exactly tracked the growth of homelessness in B.C.

So this issue has become a real obsession for me primarily because I’ve actually witnessed the series of mistakes we’ve made at the political and policy levels that have created the disaster on our streets. I’ve seen us manufacture homelessness in our communities.

I’ve also seen the media - in the broad sense of the word, because of course there were individual journalists who were doing what they could to cover the issue well - be completely unable to get underneath the very complex issues of homelessness, or to bring any real understanding to it. They cover it enough to be able to say that they’re paying attention to it over the course of any given year, but never enough to actually inform their readers or viewers how to go about doing something to address the problems showing up on their streets.

That’s because it’s simply too complex to be dealt with as headline news, or even as “Homelessness: The Six-Part Series.” It’s not a story that can be told easily, or quickly. It needs deep, meaningful reporting done day after day - by a committed, informed reporter who has the full support of a committed, informed editor and publisher.

But meanwhile, the numbers on our street just keep rising, and all we’re doing is continuing to tell that great big grey and frightening story as a black-and-white, right-and-wrong, your side/my side piece. We write about it when some horrific or particularly outrageous detail surfaces, or when the shopping carts or the drug addicts or the sleeping bags pile up particularly deep in some part of town, but it’s soon forgotten beneath a tide of whatever else is coming our way as news.

Is it biased for a journalist to care passionately about homelessness? Of course not. Who’s in FAVOUR of homelessness, after all?? Were the writer to deliberately ignore the impact of homelessness on, say, downtown residents, or to write about all 1,500 people living on our streets right now as if they were freeloaders who needed to get a job - well, THAT’S showing bias.

But to write deeply and well about the many issues and sides of homelessness - to care enough about the issue to engage over the long time, and to learn enough about it that you become an informed source for a baffled community - there’s nothing biased about that. That’s about picking an issue that’s obviously critically important to our community, and writing about it creatively, fairly and thoroughly until something is done about it.

Think about the other issues that could benefit from a similar approach. Child welfare. Poverty. The roots of crime. Our environment. Effective political representation. Quality education. Health issues and disease. Within each topic, there are obviously a variety of positions that need to be explored fairly if the coverage is to remain objective, but that’s not to say the issue can’t be passionately addressed - and in fact, MUST be to maintain a healthy, vibrant community. As a reader or viewer, I WANT the journalist writing about those subjects to care passionately about the issue. I want them to help me understand what I need to do to bring about an end to poverty - to reduce crime in our community - to bring about better child welfare policies - to build a better world for my children and grandchildren - to take care of my health.

That last issue in particular, health, is an excellent example of something that tends to be covered in the disjointed way that disempowers us as communities rather than empowers us. Think back on a typical year’s worth of health coverage in the mainstream media and you’ll see what I mean. Coffee is bad for you one day, good for you the next. Wine, the same. Vitamins are pointless placebos, and the next day they’re the shining light that will save us all from cancer.

I took a three-day course at the National Institutes of Health in Maryland four years ago that was expressly put together for journalists to try to counter the uninformed, superficial writing that passes for health coverage in most of our newspapers.

With the notable exception of the very skilled health writer Andre Picard, of the Globe and Mail, we simply don’t know enough as journalists about interpreting scientific studies to be writing about this stuff, and as a result we leave ourselves wide open to promoting blatantly false information as if it were scientific truth. Nor do we ask the big question - of health studies, of political polls, of any number of surveys that we put forward as “truth:” Who paid for this study? Even a quick glimpse below the surface reveals that a great deal of what we pass along to our readers as health-research findings is really much closer to propaganda dressed up like a study - one that has been funded by a special-interest group or pharmaceutical company in line to benefit from the publicity we give them.

How does a community know whether to trust the information we give them if we aren’t putting the necessary thought into deciding the accuracy and depth of that information? How do readers judge the worth of an issue - how much they need to worry about it, or act on it - if the story of the day ends up being just one more in a long line of formulaic pieces that never gets beyond telling readers one viewpoint on the issue and then the opposite view to negate it? Another “six of one, half dozen of another” story? You hear talk of the need to tell “both” sides of a story, but in fact a story usually has at least half a dozen sides, if not more. Are we journalists doing anybody any favours by simplifying virtually every story down to a he-said/she-said exchange that leaves readers with great, gaping holes in the information they need to make their own decisions about the importance of a particular issue?

Or if the type of stories we write essentially encourage people to pick sides on issues that are far too complex to be handled that way?

How do I, as a citizen, engage in a story about a problem in my community if the journalists themselves haven’t bothered to? Why should I even read it at all, if all it’s going to do is depress me and disempower me by not giving me a reason to hope for change - a way into the story, and at least a small glimmer of hope for a way out of the problem? How can citizens be making the smart decisions that are desperately needing to be made in this country of ours when they can’t depend on the information they’re getting from the media to help them do that?

Like I say, I’m no longer a journalist, so I’ve got no personal stake in whether the media takes to heart anything I have to say about all of this.

I like my morning paper, but if I had to, I could manage quite nicely without it. I’m just back from a week in New York City, where I found myself getting by quite well on a daily dose of one of those free, pre-packaged little tabs that are all the rage in newspaper giveaway boxes these days.

But the fact that I can even THINK I could get by without a daily paper is enough to send a chill through my own heart when I think about what that means to the future of journalism. And while I may be disenchanted with how it’s often practiced these days, I still continue to think it is as a powerful and necessary vehicle for telling the stories that matter in our communities. But I’ve seen our star as journalists plummet in my years in the business, and I suspect it’s because we have breached the public trust with our superficial and incomplete coverage of issues.

You know those surveys they do where they ask the public which kinds of people they trust most? Not so many years ago, journalists routinely scored among the top 10 in those surveys. Now, they’re barely above politicians at the very bottom of the list. What’s that telling us?

I see so much potential from a more engaged journalism style, and in a newsroom team that puts constant thought and effort into the stories that they tell. There are a number of reasons for that that go beyond me just feeling protectionist over my chosen career.

For one thing, I’m an activist, which I suspect is what can happen over time when you’ve been a journalist long enough to see how truly spectacular this old world is at screwing things up, and how desperately change is needed on so many fronts.
I’ve spent the last 26 years watching well-intentioned communities blunder into the same problems over and over again, to the point that I would really hesitate to apply the term “progress” to what I’ve seen unfold in the world so far.

In terms of homelessness alone, I’ve seen the City of Victoria go in less than 20 years from having a quiet community of maybe 50 homeless men with drinking problems to a sprawling, unmanageable mass of humanity 30 times that size, their problems now grown to encompass profound mental illness, all ages, genders and race, vast drug issues, and truly alarming public-health concerns. Then and now, we seem completely incapable of understanding how it happened or taking even the most basic steps to rectify the problems. And yet it’s all there in the stories of the past.

Search Canadian newspapers through the Infomart database for their stories about homelessness over the past two decades, and you can see the entire tragedy playing out before our very eyes.

But in the day by day coverage, the stories are inevitably simplified and conflict-oriented. People in favour of a needle exchange are pitted against those who aren’t. People who hate shopping carts on their downtown streets battle people who see them as a survival tool for a desperate population. People who don’t want a beggar sleeping in their doorway face off against beggars who simply have no other options. Every year, a new homeless count and the inevitable comparisons with the homeless count of the year before, and that’s the end of that for another year.

Problems on Cormorant Street become problems near the welfare office become problems in Centennial Square, and nobody connects the dots that the PROBLEM is that nothing ever happens to change any of it.

And it’s obviously not just homelessness that ends up getting that treatment. Everything happens in the moment, and the context that will help us see the patterns in all of it is rarely brought to bear. It’s a massive waste of time, energy, passion and money. Meanwhile, the problem, whether that’s frail seniors stuck in badly needed hospital beds or sick, desperate people using drugs in plain sight on the street, children being abused by their parents and then abused again by a troubled child-welfare system - is never acted upon beyond the name-calling and blame-laying that passes for community news most days.

Sure, we fill the white space with new words and photos every day, but that DOESN’T mean we’re serving up the most important stories. Nor are we necessarily telling those stories in ways that engage readers and viewers - who quite rightly will just pass traditional media by if we can’t give them information in a way that has meaning and relevance to their own lives. Nor are we taking on what I think is an unwritten yet vital aspect of being a journalist - to bring context and history to what we’re writing about, and do it in a way that makes for a compelling read. I teach writing every now and then and always like to remind my students that getting the words into print is only the first step - the REAL challenge is getting people to read those words.

Another reason for me wishing for a journalism renaissance is that I’m someone who loves newspapers. But I see before me a dying industry, cast into deep shadow by the Internet monolith and completely unprepared for a new reality. News of the day, analysis, points of view, classified ads, theatre listings - all of it is one Google search away nowadays, This should be a time of dramatic reinvention in the newspaper industry, but it’s obvious to me that barely any thought has gone into how the industry will stay relevant in people’s lives now that all the select information media once provided is available in abundance - and free - elsewhere. I’ve seen tremendous changes in readership in my own time in the profession, and the only trend has been down, down, down. Ten years ago when I was in newspaper management, some 67 per cent of adult Canadians had read a newspaper the day before; today, barely half have.

Will our industry be the metaphorical frog that stays in the water as the temperature slowly rises, never noticing that it’s reaching the boiling point until it’s too late?

And for all their flaws and challenges, I see mainstream media as an essential component of democracy and a well-informed public. Without community newspapers, how WILL our communities come together to understand and rally around common problems? Who will be the keeper of our community history? Who will remind us that yes, we’ve made these mistakes before, and that’s why we need to do things differently this time?

Yes, more information is available to any of us than ever before due to the Internet. I marvel at the immense amount of information from around the world that’s now at my fingertips through a single Google search.

And certainly blogging is one of the most democratic developments to come along in a long while, because now there’s suddenly a way for ANYONE to be a journalist, and to break free of the constraints of traditional media.

But while I love the World Wide Web for the many wonders it has opened up to me, one tremendous drawback is that it’s primarily a vehicle for self-selected information. Nobody presents you with the information - you have to go looking for it. Another real concern is that all those bloggers whose sites you’re reading may or may not be know anything about what they’re writing about, and you the reader either have to put time into cross-checking their facts or - more worryingly - presume that what you’re getting is truth when in fact it could be nothing but hot air, uninformed opinion and lies.

If you think back to a time when a community got its information mostly from a single source - the daily newspaper, the radio, the local television channel - people were participants in a common conversation. They all knew what was happening on that stretch of highway a couple miles away, or what pet project the mayor was pushing. They all knew when trouble was brewing in the bad side of town, and which police department was trying to do something about it. They had the ability to come together to solve common problems in their community, because they were all well aware of what those problems were.

Sure, they were still having to read too many of those overly simplified stories pitting Person A against Person B. That has always been a problem in the media.
But at least they knew there WERE a couple different ways to think about the issue, and had a slightly broader sense of there being more than one viewpoint to take into account when making up their own minds.

Fast-forward to 2008, and the tremendous changes brought about by the Internet, blogging, chat and instant messaging. People now do much of their reading on-line, and their sense of community is in many cases an on-line one. That’s not necessarily a problem if those people are aware of that and are taking steps to be sure to expose themselves to a broad array of informed opinions to make up for the narrowing of their world, but it’s potentially quite disastrous if they fall into the trap of getting their information from fewer and fewer sources - especially sources who share their same world view.

And with fewer people in the community tied into a single source of information, how DO communities come together to solve common problems? What communications vehicle tells them what those problems are, given that yesterday’s newspaper readers have dispersed into all kinds of alternate forms of communication? We no longer have an easy means to rally large numbers of citizens around a single cause, or to ensure that important information gets to them quickly. At the very time when there are more ways to talk to each other than ever before, we are losing the ability to talk to each other as a community.

The Internet has all the potential in the world to be the BEST place to seek out a variety of viewpoints and angles.

I can’t even imagine how I got by without the Internet in my early reporting days, and thank my lucky stars every day for the astounding array of fabulous information, studies, reports, contacts, analysis and deep thinkers it puts into my reach for use in my own writing.

But as I mentioned a moment ago, depending on search engines to take you to the information you need also makes it very easy for people to self-select for information that already fits with their own views. They go to the blog sites of people who think like they do. They join Facebook groups with people who share the same world view about the issue of the moment. They seek out stories and viewpoints that reinforce their view of why things are the way they are.

They seek information on the issues that they’re already interested in, and thus shut themselves away from the issues that they NEED to be thinking about if our communities are to survive these challenging times.

No longer do they find themselves drifting through page 3 of that day’s paper and accidentally discovering a viewpoint that they hadn’t considered. They’re not reading the letters page and coming across a fresh way of thinking of about an issue. One of the things I love best about great media writing - the New Yorker magazine is a wonderful example of this - is how terrific writing can draw you into reading about something that up to that point, you had no idea you were even interested in.

But in the age of electronic searches of your favourite pre-selected news sources, I suspect there’s far less accidental reading going on.

Now, unless you deliberately go looking for alternative views, everything you ‘find out’ will merely reinforce whatever it is that you already think you know.
So now our increasingly fragmented communities are made up of individuals seeking individual sources of information. They’re not getting the whole story, or even most of it. They’re not being challenged to think differently. They’re not being exposed to different ways of thinking, and instead are immersing themselves in a broad global community that thinks exactly like they do. They’re getting only the parts of the story that they choose to pay attention to. They’re forming their opinions based on the stories of a new breed of self-declared journalist - some of whom are absolutely great, but others who are little more than rambling, ranting proponents of rumour, stereotype and unfounded statements.

The Internet, a tool with the potential to widen your world to unbelievable proportions, suddenly becomes the vehicle that shrinks it.
Don’t get me wrong - it’s great being among a group of like-minded people - everybody waving their fists in the air in solidarity, agreeing with each other, patting each other on the back for thinking the right thoughts. But in terms of creating an atmosphere for change, it’s the wrong place to be. The more our communities splinter into small groups of people who all think the same way, the less we can come together to solve community problems.

The more we break apart into special interest groups, the more we shut out the issues and the people that need our attention. The more we find “community” on-line and among those who think just like us, the less we go looking for it right here in our real-live community, where our service clubs and our churches and our community organizations are dying for lack of participants as a result.

It’s an atmosphere that breeds narrow-mindedness and judgment - two things that are truly the enemy when you’re talking about cohesive and functioning communities. It prevents us from coming together by setting us apart in our individualness.
Obviously, these are enormous issues that go well beyond how the media choose to cover stories.

We are in the midst of great change globally in the way we interact with each other, and I don’t know where it’s going. But I do think that it’s in our interests to maintain a lively and compelling free press in the midst of all of it - one that works hard to keep itself relevant in changing times. I used to argue quite passionately that there would always be a place for newspapers in people’s lives no matter how much the Internet changed things, but I admit that I now see the industry walking straight into obsolescence due to its seeming inability to grasp that it must - simply must - start to do things very differently, both for the sake of its balance sheet and for the benefit of our communities, which NEED media coverage that is thoughtful, contextual, fully informed and absolutely engaged.

As I’ve said repeatedly, we do have some excellent journalists in Canada who are doing this kind of work right now. I know because I remain an avid reader of newspapers, and a believer in the important role they play in our communities. But that said, far too many of my morning reads leave me so infuriated that I regularly contemplate giving up the whole habit. Too often, I see disengaged journalists filling the white space between the ads, and disengaged editors who have long given up the important work of trying to tell the stories that their communities want and need to hear. I quit the media in 2004 because I couldn’t take the state of the industry, and I’ve seen very little since then that has given me any reason to doubt my decision.

In all my years as a journalist, I heard the same excuses for why this is so. “There’s just no time to do anything in-depth. Newsroom resources have been cut to the bone. Who has the time to devote to a big story when your editor is barking for you to hit deadline right now?”

There’s truth to all of that, of course, particularly the cutting of newsroom resources this past decade, which has included a drying-up of virtually all mid-career training courses that once at least gave a few journalists the regular opportunity to try to stay current and fresh.

But they’re excuses just the same. It’s harder to do a job well when you’re in a hurry, but it’s certainly not impossible. It takes a little more energy and drive to engage in a story enough that you bother to learn the history and context of what you’re writing about, but not much.

The same tool that may one day be the death of the traditional media - the Internet - is also the tool that gives every journalist instant and easy access to all the information of the world - information that can help them tell a far more meaningful story.

More recently, blaming the “corporate media” has come into vogue. I’ve never worked for a paper that wasn’t owned by a very large corporation, so I haven’t experienced the difference between an independent paper and a corporately owned one. Having worked for Thomson, Southam, Hollinger and CanWest at one time or the other, I CAN assure you that with a few notable exceptions, there’s not much to this paranoia around corporate interference in editorial product, and I for one don’t see corporate ownership as the main reason for the decline in readership.

But I do see a bland sameness settling over our country’s papers. I do see a lack of community focus and engagement, or even an understanding of the changing needs of the communities we’re writing for. It would be so much easier to blame that on evil corporate bosses, but I suspect it’s really because as journalists and editors in a time of economic decline in our industry, we have become a profession of largely white, largely middle-aged, middle-class, comfortably cynical people who don’t often look too far beyond the edges of our own lives when coming up with story ideas and approaches.

And while I wouldn’t want to be seen to bite the hand that is feeding me at this very moment, I do think universities also have to ask themselves what role they have played in all of this.

I see journalism as more of a craft, a trade, rather than a university degree, and one that has to be worked on with an eye to improvement for the rest of your career. But these days it’d be tough for a young person to land a media job without a degree, and masters’ in journalism aren’t uncommon in the newsrooms of the nations nowadays. So what ARE they learning at university about how to be an engaged journalist?

I asked a professor at Ryerson Polytechnique a few years back whether anybody was teaching a course in passion and curiosity, and he just laughed and shook his head. But why not? Obviously it’s important to learn the structure of a news story, and how to put together an effective sentence, and how to avoid being sued or acting unethically. It’s important to know how to do an interview.

But if we aren’t teaching the heart and soul of journalism to tomorrow’s journalists - if we’re not teaching them to engage and connect and to care about the people and the issues they’re writing about - then it’s all just more words on paper.
I hope that I don’t sound bitter, or like one of those people aging into a rosy memory of how things used to be so much better in the old days. In fact, they weren’t, but perhaps it didn’t matter so much when the daily paper had everyone’s ear no matter what. Now, it matters a great deal, both for the survival of an industry and a profession that I still love a lot, and for communities that are losing the glue that binds them together.

Thank you for this opportunity to sound off - and hopefully to stir the pot a bit as to what constitutes meaningful journalism in an age when we’re drowning in information. I’m told there will be plenty of time for questions tonight and I’m looking forward to that, because the engagement and connection needs to start right here, right now. Fire away, please, and thanks again for the chance to speak to all of you.

Donations most welcome for Oct. 16 event for street community
Oct. 3, 2008

Winter approaches, and my friends on the street are still mostly out in the cold. Our region is trying much harder than it was a year ago to do something about homelessness, but little has changed in the short term for the majority of people living out there.
The good news: Our community now knows what needs to be done, and has the right people in place to do it. As one of the volunteers who sits on the co-ordinating committee of the Greater Victoria Coalition to End Homelessness - the group that grew out of last year’s Mayor’s Task Force - I can assure you that some of the best-connected people with the biggest hearts are getting together regularly to try to work this crisis out.
But all that effort doesn’t mean much in the here and now to the 1,200 or so people heading into another long, wet winter. For them, it’s bundle up and wait, because another year has come and gone and they’re still stuck out there.
I’ve written a lot about homelessness this past year, and heard from many readers who wanted to help. OK, here’s an opportunity. I’m organizing an event for the street community Oct. 16 on behalf of the coalition, and we’d like your help in making it a great day for people.
We’re calling the day Project Connect. Partly it’s about drawing in people from the street community to share their frustrations and ideas for change with coalition members, and partly it’s about just putting on a really nice service day for a group of folks who don’t get many breaks. In bigger cities like San Francisco, similar “connect” events are held as often as every other month.
This is the coalition’s first such event, and it’s looking like we’ll have at least a couple dozen different services available to people that day. They run the gamut: haircuts, acupuncture, dental care, help with ID and income assistance, free pet food, outreach nursing, dog licences, job information. We’ll have a whole lot of good food happening as well, and hope to be handing out “survival pack” of socks, gloves and other essentials to everyone who participates.
It’s not even close to a solution for homelessness, of course. A pair of dry socks provides little more than a few hours of reduced discomfort on a rainy fall night.
But here we are on the edge of another winter, and socks are better than nothing. Until we figure out how to give people homes, we’ll have to settle for giving them a heck of a day, including a bag of stuff to take away that might at least knock the edge off their misery for a little while.
Rev. Al Tysick has told me to brace for as many as 500 people at Project Connect. The coalition would like every one of them to leave feeling listened to, well-fed, hooked up to services, and perhaps just the smallest bit better prepared to face down another hard winter.
We’ve got some money for the event, thanks to the support of partners like the United Way. We need it to cover our food and venue costs that day.
But putting together 500 survival packs is simply too big an order for our small budget. So I’m asking readers to consider sharing the load by buying some of the items needed for those packs.
What are we looking for? Things to meet people’s immediate needs: new socks, gloves and scarves; rain ponchos, grooming and personal hygiene products (tampons!); cosmetics; hand sanitizer; treats such as candy and chocolate.
We’re asking for new items only, because new would be a lovely surprise for a group of people who get by exclusively on castoffs. If you’re willing to buy items for donation, please contact Lynn Driver at the coalition at lynndriver@solvehomelessness.com (or 370-1512) for dropoff details. I’m hoping you can help but am acutely aware of the many fine charities out there that also need you, so please consider this request as an “add on” rather than a replacement for any of your regular causes.
We also need volunteers, not just to share in the work of that day but to make the kind of person-to-person connections that close the gap between “us” and “them.” If you’ve got time to give on Oct. 16 or in the days leading up to the event, send me an e-mail and I’ll happily sign you up.
Sure, it’s a band-aid solution. But while we wait for something more meaningful, it will have to do.

Bad thinking all round in Battershill story
Sept. 26, 2008

What’s done is done, so there’s little point in getting too worked up over the many missteps in the Paul Battershill saga.
But boy, there was some flawed thinking going on there at a whole lot of levels. And what’s most disturbing is that if it weren’t for a Victoria businessman inadvertently bringing the messy business to light in the first place, we might never have heard a word about any of it.
If you haven’t yet read Times Colonist reporter Rob Shaw’s excellent piece this past Sunday on Battershill’s hard, fast fall from grace as Victoria’s police chief, add it to your must-read list.
It chronicles an alarming amount of seriously bad decision-making leading up to Battershill’s forced resignation last month - on the part of Battershill, Mayor Alan Lowe and Victoria’s civilian police board. That the story took almost a full year to come out also tells you how badly those at the centre of the tale didn’t want you to know any of it.
The short version of the saga is that Battershill got rid of five senior managers and a long-time executive assistant during his nine years as chief, paying each of them handsomely to go away. The severance agreements totalled more than $600,000, with at least some of them negotiated by a lawyer who Battershill was having an affair with.
That he chose to have an affair with someone the police department was paying to help him fire some of his managers - well, that’s a stellar example of wrong thinking all on its own. But as Shaw’s story noted, Battershill also chose to brag about the affair with Marli Rusen to his employees, in explicit detail. By the time Victoria businessman Gerald Hartwig started stirring up trouble for Battershill last October, the affair was common knowledge in the department.
Hartwig hadn’t gone looking for an affair. When he filed a Freedom of Information request for Battershill’s expense accounts last fall, he was merely looking for answers as to why the police department couldn’t afford more downtown foot patrols. But when the law firm that employed Battershill’s paramour suddenly got antsy over Hartwig’s request, events took an interesting turn.
Enter Mayor Alan Lowe. He found out about the situation over an Oct. 7 coffee with Hartwig. But instead of bringing the matter to the immediate attention of the Victoria police board at its meeting two days later, Lowe - who chairs the board - inexplicably decided he’d wait to tell directors at some future meeting when there were more of them in attendance.
The Battershill story broke in the media less than 24 hours later. The blindsided police board was left looking inept and ill-informed, a perception that I would have to say has only been strengthened by the events that have followed.
What we now know is that the police board simply wasn’t paying attention to the major personnel problems that were developing inside the police department under Battershill’s leadership. They weren’t questioning the decisions he was making - to the point that directors signed off on a $125,000 severance agreement for Battershill’s former executive assistant that only Lowe had actually read.
The board didn’t question the unusual clause in the agreement forbidding the assistant from talking to them. Other than Lowe, none of them even knew it was in there.
Then came the RCMP report on the Battershill case a few months later. In yet another lapse of judgment, Lowe refused to provide a copy of the report to members of the police board and instead chose to give them his own personal summary of events at an oral presentation. And they let him get away with it.
Neither Lowe nor the police board have done anything illegal, of course. Under the provisions of B.C.’s Police Act, all the power for disciplining a police chief rests exclusively with the mayor of the municipality in question.
I don’t know who thought that was a good idea. But even if that’s the law - and hopefully it won’t be for much longer - it’s still clear in the Battershill saga that the police board was asleep at the switch. Long after that embarrassing media leak brought about by Lowe’s decision to keep them in the dark a while longer, the police board was still on auto-cruise.
Battershill did much good for the city, which shouldn’t be overlooked just because things ended so scandalously. But what was bad about Paul Battershill was made much worse by the actions of Victoria’s mayor and police board, and we’re owed some answers before the next chief is hired.

Long-ago tax return proves a dollar really does buy less now

published Sept. 19, 2008

I’ve recently been reunited with my “hope chest” from a long-past marriage, and cracked open the lid this summer for the first time in nearly 30 years.
Tucked in between the baby clothes and the wedding memorabilia were four years of my ex-husband’s tax returns. I find those returns coming to mind a lot these days amid the torrent of grim news about the economic meltdown in the U.S.
For those too young to know, a hope chest is a relic from a time when teenage girls were given cedar chests for accumulating the household goods and treasures that they’d need to set up their house once they became somebody’s wife. After marriage, the wife was free to fill the chest with whatever she chose, which in my case turned out to be a random collection of keepsakes, photo albums, greeting cards, and my ex’s 1976-80 income tax returns.
We were a typical young Courtenay couple of our day. My ex worked at the Campbell River mill. I taught piano for a few hours a week, but was primarily a stay-at-home mom with two small children.
In 1980, I was 24 and he was 28, and we’d been married for six years. I never would have imagined at that time that we were leading lives of privilege, but by today’s standards I guess we were. We owned our own home, had two vehicles, took a vacation somewhere nice every year, and generally didn’t want for much.
Looking back on those years, I’ve long suspected that my ex and I - and all the young Island families we knew in those years with jobs in forestry and fishing - enjoyed a much more comfortable life than most young couples raising children these days can count on.
But economic analysis isn’t my forte, so I never got around to nailing my hunch down. I was also wary of the possibility of turning into one of those old coots prone to remembering the past in rosier terms than was actually the case.
Then I took a look at that 1980 tax return. My ex earned almost $28,000 that year, a sum that even three decades later is still what 20 per cent of Canadian families are living on.
The median income in Canada nowadays for a family like ours - one wage earner, kids still at home - is more than double what our household was getting by on in 1980. But prices have done a lot more than doubled over that same period.
A small example: I found an old diary among my hope-chest treasures that I’d used to track our gas costs on a road trip to Disneyland in the late 1970s.
Back then, gas was about 30 cents a litre. It’s almost five times that much now. But what’s even more telling in terms of purchasing power is how gas prices then and now compare as a percentage of household earnings.
If in 1980 you were earning $28,000 and filling up your tank twice a month, your gas costs for the year amounted to less than three days’ pay. For argument’s sake, let’s presume an equivalent modern-day income of $75,000. Filling up at the same twice-a-month rate now eats up eight days’ wages.
In terms of housing, the change is even more dramatic.
We bought a little cabin on the beach in Royston in 1974 for $10,000. We sold it two years later to buy an unfinished two-bedroom house on a much bigger property. By the time we’d borrowed the money to finish it off, we had a $20,000 mortgage and monthly payments of just over $140.
So for starters, the cost of the house was less than what my ex made in a year. Only the wealthiest home buyers can say that anymore. We spent roughly six per cent of our annual household income on mortgage payments. Fast-forward to modern times and a household income of $75,000, and that would translate to a mortgage payment of about $375 a month.
If only. The truth is you can’t even find a rooming-house bed for that price anymore. The average Canadian currently spends more than 20 per cent of their total income on mortgage payments or rent. In constant dollars, median earnings in fact fell more than 11 per cent in B.C. between 1980 and 2005.
Is this “progress,” then? Not by a long shot. And we’d best brace for worse to come, what with America’s impossibly wealthy capitalist kings now fleeing the scene of the disaster they’ve created in the mortgage and investment industries.
As always, the rich get richer. The rest of us just keep losing ground.

Put Langford 'vision' to work on homelessness
Sept. 12, 2008

Mayor Stew Young and his council have much to be proud of in the transformation of Langford over the years. They’ve helped create an attractive, well-serviced town out of a place that not so long ago was more likely to be the punch line of a bad trailer-trash joke.
Councillors, take a bow. Municipal staff, you too, because you’ve proven the worth of a fast and efficient civic bureaucracy that knows how to get things done.
But the greatest test of Langford’s visionary capability is still to come. As the City of Victoria can woefully attest, the gentrification of a community inevitably strips away its ability to hide its social problems. Once you’ve torn down the bad part of town, there’s no hiding anything anymore.
Can we anticipate that Langford will be ahead of the curve in dealing with those coming challenges, too? So far, the verdict is still very much out on that front.
On the one hand, Langford has established civic policy that has already led to the creation of 30 affordable new homes that are selling at half the market price. That’s a brilliant move.
On the other, the municipality appears to be walking into emerging street problems with the same tired strategies that have been tried to no avail in one Canadian city after another.
Those cities can attest through painful first experience that Langford’s attempts to crack down on urban “campers” and sue the family of some kid with a prolific graffiti record simply aren’t strategic actions in terms of preventing social decay.
We’ve got two decades of experience right here in B.C. as to what happens when you try to deal with social problems solely by getting tough. Short answer: You spend a lot of money to little effect, and your problems multiply exponentially in the meantime.
Leave the whole mess long enough, as has happened in Vancouver’s Downtown Eastside, and you end up with a tragic wasteland where a lively downtown used to be. The situation isn’t quite so grim in downtown Victoria, but it’s still a pretty telling example of what can happen when a city gets things wrong around homelessness.
I would have thought a guy as clever as Stew Young would know that you can’t police social problems out of existence. Cities have been testing that strategy for well over two decades now. You only have to look at the significant rise in homelessness during that same period - at least tenfold in our region alone - for proof that the strategy doesn’t work.
The gentrification of a community is obviously a noble undertaking. Seedy crack shacks and a string of dilapidated rental properties aren’t anybody’s idea of pretty.
But with gentrification comes the razing of the last remnants of housing that poor people can still afford. Rough-looking streets of neglected duplexes and sagging houses give way to high-end condos and snazzy townhouses, with nary an impoverished renter in sight.
You can see where that practice inevitably leads, especially when nobody’s making any effort to replace the cheap and easy housing that’s being lost. Add in the damage done to the social-safety net by years of cuts and offloading at the provincial and federal level, and you’ve got the recipe for social mayhem.
What’s a municipality to do? First and foremost, see it coming and plan for it.
Countless U.S. cities have walked themselves into major street problems in decades past. Their well-documented failures stand as stark warning to modern-day communities hoping to avoid the same mistakes. OK, Langford is no New York City, but the determinants of homelessness are the same all over the world, and here’s simply no excuse for a community to stumble blindly into urban decay anymore.
I would have expected Langford to be watching and learning from Victoria as the mistakes piled up into an outright homeless crisis in the capital’s downtown. Stew Young needn’t look far afield for a reminder of what can happen when a city tries to deal with homelessness as an offence rather than a troubling social phenomenon.
Were I the undisputed king of Langford, I’d be working on having at least 10 permanently subsidized and supported units of housing built into every new development. I’d be trying to engage the town youth in something more fun than spray-painting other people’s property. I’d be out there with the same kind of innovation that Langford has shown on so many other fronts, building homes for the homeless without a minute wasted on chasing them from place to place.
Come on, Stew. You’re the man with the plan. Show us you know how to build a great community as well as a town.

Deli-meat sandwiches should be no-go for elderly patients
Sept. 5, 2008

So I’ve done my due diligence this week and read through several dozen news items, reports and public-health warnings about the listeriosis outbreak that’s killing Canadians. I’m afraid I have to fall back on that old cliché about being left with more questions than answers, particularly around why old, sick people are still being fed deli meats.
Like most of the bacteria that cause food poisoning, listeria monocytogenes is found everywhere: In our soil and water; in almost 40 species of mammals (including humans); in fish; crustaceans; ticks; sewage waste; sickrooms. Healthy farm animals and humans alike can harbour it quite comfortably with no symptoms.
For a healthy adult under age 50, a bout of listeriosis is unpleasant but generally manageable. Still, the overall fatality rate is 20 to 30 per cent. And for those whose health issues put them at greater risk, the fatality rate is 40 per cent or more.
Pregnant women and their fetuses have a 20-fold higher risk of developing listeriosis. Almost all of the victims in Canada’s only other major listeria outbreak 27 years ago were unborn and newborn babies. Fatality rates are extremely high for fetuses infected in the womb.
People with AIDS are 300 times more at risk of infection. Anyone with suppressed immune systems - whether from chemotherapy, chronic illness, alcoholism or old age - is at significantly higher risk.
The health recommendations for those high-risk groups have been clear for years: Those who are elderly, seriously ill or pregnant should avoid eating foods known to carry the risk of listeria contamination - particularly soft, unpasteurized cheeses and “non-dry” deli meats (sliced ham, roast beef, chicken and turkey, for instance, as opposed to dried meats like salami and pepperoni).
Personal details aren’t available yet on the 13 deaths so far in this latest outbreak, or on another 25 confirmed cases of illness. But it’s known that most of the fatalities so far involved elderly patients at hospitals and seniors’ care facilities.
They died from eating infected sandwich meats from a single Toronto meat-processing plant, which produces some of Canada’s most popular brands. What has yet to be ascertained is whether anyone in authority gave even a second thought to the wisdom of serving frail seniors food that isn’t recommended for them.
I get that we consume untold tonnes of deli meat in Canada every year without incident - $1.2 billion worth, in fact. I get that most people will spend a lifetime eating deli meats and never get listeriosis. Coleslaw was the culprit in the 1981 listeriosis outbreak in Nova Scotia and New Brunswick that killed 18 people, so it’s not like it’s all about sandwich meats anyway.
But my research this week nonetheless turned up U.S. health warnings dating back 16 years that advised people in high-risk groups to avoid soft cheeses and deli meats that hadn’t been dried. Health Canada made a similar recommendation in 2005. BC Children’s and Women’s Hospital quit serving deli meats to its patients last year.
But the deli-meat sandwiches clearly never stopped coming in facilities serving old, sick people.
How does contamination happen? In the 1981 outbreak, the problem turned out to be a farm that used contaminated sheep manure on its cabbage patch. A small outbreak on Vancouver Island six years ago was traced to problems with decontamination measures at a Parksville plant making soft cheese with unpasteurized milk.
For the latest outbreak, we know the contamination occurred at the Maple Leaf plant in Toronto, but are still waiting for the rest of the story. It will likely involve the waste of one animal or another, as that’s the primary way listeria is spread.
Health professionals are not of one mind around dealing with listeriosis. Canada records some 13 million cases of food poisoning of one kind or another every year, and the incidence of listeriosis remains blessedly rare. A nationwide ban of listeria-prone foods in all hospitals and care homes has perhaps seemed unnecessarily extreme.
But the world is changing. The sheer coast-to-coast, shelf-emptying scope of a modern-day food recall is proof of that, and the latest incident yet another telling example of the downside of a consolidated, mechanized, multi-national food industry that’s about as far from the farm gate as you can get.
Miraculously, most foods we eat will continue to be safe even so. Most of us will neither fall ill nor die from listeriosis. But if all it takes to save a few more lives is to switch the sandwich fixings in our care facilities, surely we can take that one small step.

VIHA's problems go much deeper than communications department
Aug. 29, 2008

It’s a poor workman who blames his tools, so let’s hope the Vancouver Island Health Authority rethinks its decision to lay the blame for bad communications on its long-suffering public relations staff.
That VIHA pays $1 million a year to communicate badly is certainly a problem. But if the health authority genuinely believes the root cause of that is due to the communication department not doing its job - well, that goes a long way to explaining why these kind of problems continue to dog VIHA.
I’ve been an observer of the local health scene for many years, having started my work at the Times Colonist in 1989 as the paper’s health reporter. I’ve never lost interest in the subject, or the ongoing communication problems that have plagued whatever entity was running regional health services at a particular point in time.
When I arrived here, the Greater Victoria Hospital Society was running things, under the tightly controlled direction of a former deputy health minister from Saskatchewan, Ken Fyke. Then came Capital Health (subsequently renamed Capital Health Region) to swallow GVHS and other community-based health services in the region, and finally VIHA to engulf everything health-related on the Island.
The GVHS was born from conflict, as local hospitals and their medical staff didn’t go willingly into a top-down amalgamation of regional hospital services. Lots of leaks and brown envelopes from disgruntled hospital staff came my way in those years, evidence of much mistrust in the system.
Is that bad beginning partly to blame for the “communication problems” that have stuck like burrs to every version of the health authority ever since? Tough to say, but I do know that bad communication by the local health authority dates back at least 19 years, and that no overhaul of the communications department is going to touch it.
What I know of health-authority communications staff from my dealings with them over the years is that they’re by and large skilled, professional people doing their best in trying circumstance.
I suspect the current batch know all about good communications. I bet there are times when they’re watching in quiet horror as VIHA walks head-on into yet another populist community uprising led by whatever vulnerable, underdog group is losing services. (Frail seniors, people with severe mental illness, children with disabilities, the sickest addicts - oh, it’s quite a list.)
But what’s a department to do if the bosses have a completely different take on what it means to communicate effectively? With a few notable exceptions (the Victoria Health Project, for instance), the standard communications strategy employed by local health authorities over the years boils down to this: “We dictate, you accept.” I’d like to meet the communications department that could do a bang-up job with a message like that.
A story by Cindy Harnett in this week’s TC gave me new insight into why VIHA so often misses the mark in its communications. In an interview about the pending audit of the communications department, VIHA president Howard Waldner described the closure of Cowichan Lodge as a “good news” story that went bad only because the issue was hijacked by special interest groups and political agendas.
Wow. Does he really believe that? Anyone with their head even partially out of the rabbit hole would have seen that one coming, especially when the lodge’s aging residents were initially given just two months’ notice instead of the one year required under B.C. law.
In VIHA’s defence, there’s no way to come out looking like the good guy when you’re the one ordering old, sick Grandpa to pack up for another move just when he’d finally settled in. But the health authority has a knack for making bad news just a little bit worse as a “communications event” - first by never telling communities what’s up until it’s too late, and then by being completely unprepared for the negative fallout.
There are better ways to do it. The first option, and the one I’d root for: Mitigate disaster from the outset by genuinely consulting with people before making major changes that will affect their lives forever. Adjust plans accordingly.
Option two: At least have the common sense to understand that autocratic, secretive decision-making is a recipe for communications problems. Have a plan for dealing with the backlash that goes beyond blaming special interest groups for raining on your parade. Thin-skinned, defensive responses that deflect blame elsewhere are just so yesterday.
As for your communications department, let ‘em live. You know what they say about shooting the messenger.

The secret "chill pill" for outrage: Grandkids
Aug. 22, 2008

Outrage is an opinion writer’s stock in trade. So at one level I’m grateful for having a deep vein of wide-ranging indignation inside me to mine as needed.
But just back from a holiday with the grandchildren, I’m also grateful for the things that allow me to let go for a while. Tending to the basic needs of young children is the best therapy I’ve found as a break from chronic outrage.
As any parent well knows, looking after young children is a full mind-body activity. I’m a superb multi-tasker in most areas of my life, but I can barely make it all the way through a single magazine article over the course of a long summer day if also charged with the care and feeding of three engaged and energetic little boys.
It’s a blessing that I didn’t appreciate the first time round, when I was a young woman fearful that my full-time life of raising children was turning me into the worst kind of bore.
In those days of endless skinned knees, playground visits and Kraft dinner lunches, I fantasized about having the time to think bigger thoughts. Now, I seek relief among my grandchildren from too much time spent doing that very thing, once again proving the old adage about grass looking greener from the other side.
We live in times that call for outrage, and I don’t much regret being born with lots of it at the ready for all the grand problems of the world. Still, I’m happy to have grown old enough to comprehend the world-changing potential of just looking out for the needs of young children, which obviously plays a key role anyway in the building of a better future.
When I’m in full grandmother mode - which is to say, returned temporarily to being a mother of young children, only with much more patience and sang-froid - I live happily in the moment. “Tomorrow” really means tomorrow, and the only thing about it that causes concern is how you’re going to keep the sandwiches cool enough to survive a hot couple hours at the beach.
Of course, even the best picnic lunch can never negate all of the woes of the world, particularly for a journalist couple who can’t resist buying at least the occasional newspaper in their grandparently travels.
So I won’t pretend we went indignation-free for the entire 10-day holiday. I won’t deny the occasional outburst over some bit of news that made its way to us (although not nearly so often as happens during our regular life, when we begin every morning with a coffee-and-newspaper routine that walks a fine line between beloved ritual and grim start to the day). Sad, bad and gloomy events continued to unfold around the globe regardless of whether we were on a road trip.
But the bad stuff just can’t take the same hold on you when you’re charged with looking after young children. Yes, things appear to be heating up worryingly between Russia and Georgia, but you’ve got three dripping popsicles to deal with right now and it’s just going to have to wait.
And should you manage against all odds to start into a rant anyway about some crazy development somewhere on this crazy planet, a young child will simply shut you down - either by falling headfirst from the monkey bars at that very moment or with a long, long anecdote about making it through to the sixth level of the new video game he’s trying to master.
Kids also knock the stuffing out of would-be outrage by cutting to the chase.
An example from this most recent trip: Having spotted one of those awful and arrogant “Best Place on Earth” licence plates that British Columbians have been saddled with, I was working up a head of steam on the subject when my five-year-old grandson interjected with a question. “Who’s second?” he asked. I couldn’t have made the point more effectively.
Re-entry into the workaday world is admittedly difficult after a holiday with the grandchildren. The descent is fierce and fast, usually starting with that first frightful peek into the e-mail inbox.
I’m always ready for the break from the rigours of full-time parenting when we get back, and curious to catch up on the news. But I still dread the first tingles of indignation returning (thanks, Tony Clements). I’d probably give the whole thing a miss if it weren’t for the fact that railing against the injustices of this world is another vital way we care for our grandchildren.
They give us the gift of living for today. I figure we owe it to them to worry about tomorrow.

Oldest profession much like any business
Aug. 8, 2008

The business of sex is surprisingly unsexy when you’re getting all you want, and our little film crew has certainly had its fill this past week in New Zealand.
Four of us are down here right now trolling through a few of the country’s brothels - legalized five year ago when New Zealand scrapped its Canadian-style laws against adult prostitution and started treating the industry like any other business.
The most immediate result of our travels will be a documentary next spring on Global TV. But what I’m hoping will be the ultimate outcome is the beginning of change in our own country.
Like Canada, New Zealand has long had an active sex industry and many, many brothels regardless of laws against them. The sale of sexual services has been legal here all along, as it is in Canada, so the 2003 changes were primarily about acknowledging the right to safe, fair workplaces for the country’s estimated 4,000 sex workers.
The naysayers - and there were many of them - predicted the worst in the heated debate preceding legalization: Dramatic expansion of the industry; a flood of new “victims” forced into the work; a rise in trafficking and organized crime.
Fortunately, New Zealand academics had the foresight to launch thorough studies of the industry before and after changes to the laws. That virtually none of the dire predictions have come true five years on has done much to shift attitudes here about the industry. We’ve been hard-pressed to find anyone in our travels who has lingering concerns beyond the usual zoning and location issues.
“For the five-year anniversary, we had a little celebration in parliament and even the prime minister dropped in to congratulate us,” notes Catherine Healey, a founder of the New Zealand Prostitutes’ Collective that played a pivotal role in the long battle for legal workplaces.
As you might expect, the most significant change since legalization has been for sex workers.
“Sex workers throughout the world can tell you how it feels to have to talk to the police when the work they’re doing is illegal,” says Healey. “They can tell you about that phone call from the school and the fear of losing their child because someone has found out what they do for a living. They live with the knowledge that they can be picked up by the police at any time.
“Since the changes in New Zealand, all of those feelings have started to dissipate. Sex workers now know they have rights, and that they’re not lawbreakers. They’re finally able to be honest about what they do.”
With everything about the industry now wide open, new regulations requiring “all reasonable effort” be taken to practise safe sex make it easier for workers to convince reluctant clients to use condoms. (One such client has already been prosecuted for refusing to do so.) Brothel managers can talk openly with workers about safe-sex practices rather than in the veiled and coded language previously used to guard against a new hire turning out to be an undercover police officer.
Workers are far more willing to go to police with concerns or with information about violent customers, a change particularly noticeable among those working the streets. One of Healey’s favourite stories of late is of the police officer who inadvertently blocked a street worker’s line of sight to potential customers when he pulled his car up one evening. Suddenly realizing his mistake, the officer apologized and moved the vehicle.
It’s not all happiness and light, of course. A simple law change doesn’t eradicate every bad brothel owner or end exploitation.
Immigrant sex work remains illegal, an attempt to prevent cross-border trafficking that has instead trapped some workers in the shadows. Municipalities aren’t uniformally happy about having to govern the adult sex industry by the same rules as any other business, particularly around location. Abuse still occurs, and disadvantaged children remain at risk.
But what was bad about the industry was even worse when it was illegal, note sex workers. They now have the same rights as any other worker, including the ability to take a bad boss to court for sexual harassment or breach of contract. Like any other citizen, they’re finally able to turn to the police for help.
And with workers newly free to talk openly about their profession, they’re comparing notes more often and making different choices about where they work. The single biggest change with the legalization of the adult industry has been a shift away from brothels into small “solo” operations of three or four workers.
“It’s not like we’ve done away with all the problems,” acknowledges Healey. “But when it was illegal, the laws were always there to compound whatever problems a person already had.”

Five years of fair treatment for sex workers in New Zealand

 Aug. 1, 2008
As you read this, I’m somewhere in Auckland, in the midst of an intense few days immersed in the New Zealand sex industry. I want to learn, and there’s no better way to do that than to go see things for yourself.
New Zealand had laws very much like ours governing the sex industry up until 2003, when the country changed course and decriminalized prostitution. I figure it’ll be a great place to look for really current information on what happens when a country stops viewing its sex workers as criminals.
Thanks to a law student from the University of Victoria, Hillary Bullock, I’ve got a binder full of information on how New Zealand made the transition. She was looking for a class project and I was looking for exactly what she delivered, which was a detailed report on how that country made it happen.
It was a remarkably fast transition. Introduced in 2000 by Labour MP Tim Barnett, the Prostitution Reform Bill was passed into law just three years later. Most aspects of consenting adult prostitution are now legal, while the “genuine harms” of prostitution have been separated out to be managed in different ways.
Like Canada, New Zealand’s laws up to that point made it a crime for an adult to solicit sex for money in a public place, keep or manage a brothel, or live on the earnings of sex work. Like us, the country tolerated a bustling sex industry while maintaining pretence of trying to eliminate it, trapping sex workers in a grey zone of quasi-legality. (Also like us, they had laws and policies prohibiting children from working in the industry and preventing exploitation and violence, and those laws have rightfully remained in place.)
If you’ve watched the creeping progress through government of any issue of significance, let alone one as controversial as this, you recognize how amazing it is that in just three years, New Zealand made it all the way to decriminalization. How did that happen?
That’s an important question for people like me, who want to be part of making something happen sooner rather than later on the same front here in Canada. Here’s how it unfolded in New Zealand:
Barnett had been a long-time advocate of sex workers’ rights, and it was his bill that ultimately got the attention of New Zealand’s House of Parliament. But many other organizations had been pressing for reform as well, including the Federation of Business and Professional Women, the National Council of Women, the national YWCA, and the New Zealand Prostitutes Collective.
Not all of the groups condoned prostitution. But they came together in recognition that continuing to pretend the industry didn’t exist was simply making things much worse for the people working in it.
Barnett’s bill was sent to the Justice and Electoral Select Committee for a hard look, and the committee drafted a four-stage process for reform.
• First, identify the risks from the activity. Coercion, sexually transmitted infections, and being trapped in the industry were all seen as examples of risk associated with prostitution.
• Next, identify which risks could realistically be dealt with by law, and which required public education, better community services, etc.
• Third, separate the risks that do need a special legal solution from those that could be covered by current law. Thus the issue of sex workers ages 16 to 18 was to be dealt with differently than the regular employment policies that would apply to adult sex workers.
• Lastly, create new prostitution law.

It all came to be, but not without considerable dissent. The law squeaked by in a vote of 60 to 59, ultimately helped along by a passionate speech to parliament from a fellow MP who was a former sex worker. “It is about accepting that which occurs, and it is about accepting the fact that the people who work in this industry deserve some human rights,” Georgina Beyer told her peers.
Those opposing the law cited a number of concerns going into the reform: growth of the sex industry; more visibility of street prostitution; an increase in violence against sex workers; the spread of disease and organized crime; the exploitation of children.
Research before and after the new law took effect found that hadn’t happened. Meanwhile, the the newly regulated industry could now be brought to task for the first time around health and safety issues, workers’ rights and contractual obligations.
That’s not to suggest that everything problematic about the sex industry vanishes when you decriminalize. But if the worst didn’t happen when New Zealand sex workers were finally given the right to earn a living, what’s our excuse for continuing to do nothing?

Lessons learned from the brothel project
July 25, 2008

It’s been close to a year since I started talking publicly about wanting to open a brothel. And let me tell you, it’s been one of the most fascinating and surprising years of my life.
Brothels and escort agencies flourish in our region and right across the country, so I and my good pal Lauren Casey weren’t breaking new ground on that front with our little plan to start an escort agency with a difference. Our aim was to develop a fair and benevolent workplace for adult sex workers that also donated a share of profits to services and supports for disadvantaged workers.
As you might expect of a volunteer project taken on by two very busy women, our plans poked along at a snail’s pace for months. But in the spring we quite accidentally connected with a human dynamo of a sex worker here in Victoria, who in turn connected us with a human dynamo of an entrepreneur with experience running a Vancouver escort agency noted for being a fair and friendly place to work.
Next thing you know, things were happening - at warp speed, of course, which I’ve learned is the standard operating speed for those working in the industry.
By June, the two young women had the licensing and business requirements in hand for a Victoria agency. By July, the Web site was up and eight independent workers had signed on give the new model a try. My head’s still spinning at how quickly things came together.
Like any fledgling business, it’s still very much a work in progress. The indoor sex industry has much in common with any industry, but some significant differences as well, including finding investors willing to put their money into an enterprise that at best can be categorized as “kind of legal.”
Developing workplace policy also isn’t as simple as just following standard business practice. As just a small for-instance, consider the delicacies of a workplace drug and alcohol policy when having a drink or two with a customer is often part of the job. Given the nature of the work, it’s a fine line as well that has to be walked to ensure that no worker ever feels exploited or forced to work, yet at the same time can be counted on to show up for her shifts.
Nor is our little business donating any profits yet, or firm on when the point will come when that’s financially possible. We’re not yet a brothel, either, as that really requires either buying a place or having an open-minded landlord in terms of maintaining the discretion required to operate in the land of the quasi-legal. Independent workers generally work out of their homes anyway, and that might work better with the coalition of independents with a centralized administrative core that’s taking shape.
I could fill a book with what I’ve learned about the sex industry in recent years, and in fact think I’ll do that one day soon. Perhaps the most surprising thing has been my own shift in thinking in the past decade - from a decidedly anti-industry position to someone helping to launch a new escort service. Much to my amazement, I’m even starting to understand why men buy sex.
I know I’ve baffled some people with my newfound embrace of the industry, a position that has cost me two friends in the past year alone due to irreconcilable differences in our opinions. I’m uncomfortable and sad to find myself pitted in the media against dedicated, caring feminists for whom I’m now the enemy. Sex work is almost as notable as abortion as a polarizing issue among people who thought they knew each other.
But at the same time, I cherish the memory of a former Catholic nun who took my hand and told me that if I was taking this brothel project on, then she had to presume it was worthy. I’ve been deeply touched by the support of people from all walks of life who, regardless of whether they like that the sex industry exists, share my view that as long as it does, we might as well try to make it as safe and healthy as possible for the tens of thousands of Canadian adults who work in it.
Lauren and I have had a documentary crew following us for a year now as we worked on our project (watch for us on Global TV’s Global Currents show sometime in the spring of 2009). We’re leaving Monday to tour the brothels of New Zealand with documentary director April Parry and the Force Four production crew to see how that country is coping since legalizing brothels five years ago.
Stay tuned for my updates from afar over the next couple Fridays. I’m counting on a very interesting experience.

Drunkenness at Music Fest puts teens at major risk
July 18, 2008

As always, I had a wonderful time at Courtenay’s Island Music Fest this past weekend, and I don’t want what I’m about to say to be taken as criticism of what is truly a summer highlight for my family.
But holy moly, there was some out-of-control drinking going on up there.
There were kids drinking so hard that I suspect some of them were putting their lives at risk. They were falling-down, glassy-eyed, fumble-footed drunks. I can’t imagine the drunken coupling that went on in the teens’ sprawling, bottle-strewn campsites that wouldn’t have met the legal test of consent.
I like young people, and saw a whole lot of them at Music Fest who were there for all the right reasons and not just to drink themselves blotto in the campground. So I definitely wouldn’t want anyone thinking that I’m pointing the finger at young people in general - or even underage drinking. What actually disturbed me was not that some teens were drinking, but that they were drinking so heavily.
I saw one girl, maybe 15 or 16 years old, staggering around between the tents absolutely blasted, wearing an itsy, bitsy bikini and carrying a beer. It was 10 a.m. I couldn’t help but wonder at all the bad things that might have happened to her already.
One worried camper started bringing water to the drunken teens camped near his site, trying to help them stay hydrated as they sat drinking fearlessly for hour after hour in the hot sun.
The studies call it “binge drinking.” It’s defined as any single drinking session where you consume four or more alcoholic drinks (four for females, six for males). Not surprisingly, it’s the riskiest way to drink, and the most likely to lead to something bad happening.
Binge drinkers are five times more likely to have unprotected sex. They’re more likely to drive drunk - and cause accidents that kill people. They’re at significantly more risk of getting in trouble with police, and much more likely to get in fights. Gender matters: men are three to six times more likely than women to binge-drink.
Should a binge drinker develop hard-drinking habits that last - another known risk - he or she is looking at higher risk of more than 60 health conditions down the line: heart disease, brain damage, liver failure, cancer. Hard drinkers also risk chronic problems with sexual performance and fertility.
In other words, nothing good comes from binge-drinking. But the health stats still don’t really get at the issue that scares me most when I see kids drinking hard, which is how completely vulnerable they are at that moment to unforeseen events that could change the course of their life forever.
I drank to get drunk myself as a young teen, although I can’t recall ever being quite as blasted as some of the girls I saw last weekend. I’d put the age range of those drinking hardest at 14 to early 20s, but that’s not to say there weren’t a number of older festival-goers hammering it back as well.
Drinking is more or less sanctioned at the festival, what with a beer garden on site and a liberal alcohol policy in the campsite. Perhaps that’s something organizers will want to reflect on.
But just because you can doesn’t mean you have to, and it’s that point that requires the most thought going forward.
More than a fifth of British Columbians are occasional binge-drinkers. In terms of consumption - which is rising - Vancouver Island is second only to the Interior as the B.C. region that drinks the most. In Europe, where binge-drinking is a growing concern, a 2006 study found that 80 million Europeans were drinking at harmful levels once a week or more.
Hopefully we all know the drill on alcohol: That it slows the functions of the central nervous system; affects parts of the brain that control emotion, movement, balance, judgment and impulse; lowers people’s pain thresholds; fogs all five senses. If you’re pregnant, it wreaks havoc on the developing fetus. Too much of it and you’re dead, as a group of California teens were reminded in March when a 16-year-old pal drank herself to death at their party.
The message: Don’t binge-drink, both for your sake and for that of whatever young kid is noticing how you knock them back and concluding that’s the way it’s done.
And one for the parents: What the heck are you doing blithely dropping off young teens at the festival campground for three days as if somebody’s looking out for them? Teens need their parents to help them learn when to draw the line.