The Dying Light?

The Québec election results from Monday night can be interpreted as a defeat for the sovereignist cause. I thought that this would be largely a "Rest-of-Canada" interpretation, but this interpretation is shared by some prominent Québecers.

It is too early to announce the death of the sovereignist cause in Québec: The reigning politically correct consensus here is a culture that sees all federal acts through a Québec-centric lens. This is normal, and all provincial governments do it. Yet in Québec, this provincialism is easily whipped into indignant cries, reminiscent of myriad historical wrongs. We take only as example the "fiscal imbalance" issue: Nobody knows what it means, but they know enough to understand that Ottawa is screwing Québecers out of their hard-earned money. Yet it is not obvious why Ottawa should lean in to massage and pamper the deeply ensconced Québec City bureacracy and its oafish welfare apparatus.

Although it is early to announce its death, I suspect that the cause of sovereignty is in a downward trend. Young Québecers are less wedded to the cause. The nation-state as a symbol is losing its meaning in an increasingly travelled, wired and communicated world. The idea that Québec could flourish as an independent state is not entirely credible, and most people seem to know that.

On a related topic, a great sovereignist and unmatched orator has announced his retirment from the House of Commons. I used to watch with awe when Michel Gauthier would give speeches in the House of Commons. As an orator, he had no equal in the House. He was the man. He could light the chairs on fire with his speech and stare down wild beasts with his eyes. I see his retirement as another sign of the times, a generation of sovereignists that are moving on. The pity is that the House has never needed great orators more than now. The art of speechgiving in politics was lost the day that fax machines were installed in the lobbies behind the curtains of the lower Chamber. Without fiery sovereignist orators, where will we find our amusement? I guess Rick Mercer's rants will have to do.

The Seal Hunt

Sitting in an Ottawa apartment late into the night, Mark and I debated the great Canadian seal hunt. I believe Mark's main point was that white people shouldn't hunt seal. Actually, it was more nuanced than that. It was that the Department of Fisheries and Oceans should not pursue the seal hunt as a subsidized industry. But I believe the underlying moral question is whether white people should hunt seal. Mark stipulated that we should not deprive the Innu of their traditional way of life, which relies partially on the seal as a food, clothing and revenue source.

Having promised to relate some stories from my northern expedition this past summer, I think it is time to tell the story of the L.T. Smash seal hunt.

We were in Iqaluit on August 12th for the Prime Minister's visit to kick off Operation Lancaster. My role was to lead the infantry platoon that would deploy onto observation posts in Lancaster Sound, the Eastern entry into the famed Northwest Passage. I was tagged at the last minute to be the MC for the Prime Minister's address to the people of Iqaluit, due to my pretty face.

Later that day our platoon, which I nicknamed the Polar Platoon, ran a children's event with a Boot Camp theme. The young kids could do an obstacle course wearing a helmet and a tactical vest, get their faces painted, play games with a military twist and generally have a good time. When the PM stopped by for a visit, I offered his handler to have the PM's face painted in camouflage colours: a way to support the troops? For some odd reason, this offer was politely declined. The beautiful children adored getting their faces painted. Even a municipal worker, probably 45 years old, stopped his waste truck beside the school to come over and get his face painted. We gave polaroid photos to all of the children, and they fought over each polaroid as if it each one was a ticket to a Rafi concert.

Ok, ok... so I'll tell you about the seal hunt.

On August 13th the platoon boarded the HMCS Montréal for a sea voyage along the eastern coast of Baffin Island to Pond Inlet, the most beautiful piece of Canada that I have ever scene. The section commanders and I left the next day at 0500 by air to arrive in time to do early aerial reconaissance missions. We lifted off easily from the Iqaluit airstrip in a small chartered biplane. The Iqaluit airport can accomodate the biggest planes in the world, and used to be the location of a major American airbase during the height of the cold war. Much of the servicing of the early warning systems was done via Frobisher Bay, which was renamed Iqaluit when Nunavut became its own territory in the 1990s.

We landed on the tiny airport of Pond Inlet. All goods are flown in by air, which makes them very expensive. The only exception is the annual barge that floats in and refills the general store. Large items, such as vehicles and fuel, can only come in once a year. Fuel was a major restraint on military operations, as we did not want to run the town dry of its yearly fuel allocation. As such, we had to preposition fuel drums on the other side of Lancaster Sound in order to conduct helicopter missions. (Another story, for another time).

We were taken to the Ulajuuk elementary school in a rickety old van that had "keyless" starting and entry. Most driving in Pond Inlet is done on four wheeler in the summer, and snowmobiles lay everywhere waiting for winter to come alive. Pond Inlet is surrounded by majestic artic mountains in all directions and borders on an inlet that sees pods of narwhal pass by every year. The day before we arrived, the locals had harvested three narwhals by lining up by the side of the water.

That afternoon, helicopter operations were out of the question and we had to find something else to do. A local man named Bryan offered to take us seal hunting. To be honest, he and his friend were doing the hunting. We were just going along for the ride and helping to spot the seals. To be continued...

Woe is Me

I just lost the most wonderful blogpost to a technical blip. Woe is me. I can barely muster the energy to re-write it. The subject is my summer experience on a seal hunt up in the Artic...

In the meantime, be it known that I am mesmerized by Facebook.