Author: wdfyfe

Before WD called himself a writer, he worked at a number of different jobs from stacking lumber to interior design. He studied English at UBC and creative writing at ASU where one of his teachers, Rita Dove, taught him the importance of the tale. He has written for radio, magazines and newspapers, but never television. He’s published both fiction and nonfiction in Great Britain and the US. He reads French passably and speaks enough Spanish to get from A to B and find the toilet. He has interviewed John Cleese, Peter Ustinov, Margaret Drabble, Kenneth Branagh and enough other famous people to make him a hopeless name dropper. His not-so-secret passions are history and trivia, and he has never lost a game of Trivial Pursuit — although he did come 4th one drunken Quiz Night at the Uxbridge in Notting Hill. He lives on the Pacific Ocean, although, not close enough to see, so he spends his days looking at a computer screen. It’s a wonderful life and he has only one regret: he can’t type faster.

To leak, or not to leak

I’ve lived long enough to understand that most things in life are black and white.  There is a good; there is an evil.  There is justice; there’s injustice.  There’s pregnant and there’s not.  There’s almost never an “almost” anything.  There are people who do deal in endless shades of grey and so be it.  I find these people are mostly lazy, sometimes stupid and — far too often — both — a deadly combination.  However, every once in a while, a situation will hove up on the horizon that has enough nuances in it to make me stop and consider.  WikiLeaks is that kind of a two-handed problem.  On the one hand, it could be a good thing; on the other, it might prove to be bad.  But, in the end it has to be something because it can’t be both.

The good side of WikiLeaks is pretty obvious.  First of all, it’s nice to have somebody out there watching the workings of government – any government.  We need independent structures and institutions that keep a wary eye on the people who wield enormous power.  When this task falls into the lap of ordinary people, I’m always glad when they step forward, place the whistle to their lips, and blow, long and hard.  Secondly, I’m glad that the Internet is still the big dog on the planet.  Its democracy is going to save us — believe me.  It’s good to see that — despite every attempt to chain it up — the Internet’s numerical superiority seems to be able to carry the day – so far, anyway.  Finally, and way more important than everything else, I’m so relieved to know that the world’s diplomats are not as stupid as they always appear to be.   In one cyber-flash, the folks who are running the world went from bumbling dolts with PhDs in naive to hard-working men and women with a fairly astute grasp of the international situation.  I don’t know about you, but I’m as happy as a puppy with a tail, to find out that the powers that be are as worried about Pakistan’s nuclear weapons as I am.  It’s totally reassuring to me to know that everybody thinks Karzai is a crook.  And as scary as the situation in Iran is, I’m ecstatic that a whole pile of people realize just how godawful scary the situation in Iran is.  It’s great to have a no-holds-barred assessment; a genuine look at the world — unfiltered by Anderson Cooper or anybody else who has better hair than Barbie.  I didn’t know the real story before, but I’m glad I do now.  If nothing else, I sleep better.

 Of course, the first question is do we need to know this stuff?  The answer is no.  In the great scheme of things, regardless of how much superdemocracy we think we need, there is no reason for ordinary people to know any of this.  In a more civilized time, governments carried on their discourse behind closed doors.  There’s nothing wrong with that.  Looking over a mechanic’s shoulder while he fixes your car doesn’t do anybody any good.  Besides, one of the major problems of our democracy is that it’s currently getting micromanaged by lobbyists, activists and special interest groups.  The WikiLeaks are just going to add fuel to their power-grabbing fire.

The next question is why publish this stuff in the first place?  Some are favourably comparing WikiLeaks to the Pentagon Papers.   This is apples and oranges with a banana thrown into the mix.  Folks, the world has changed exponentially since the Sacred 60s.  The Pentagon Papers were an attempt to thwart the US government, who were actively lying to the American people.  The WikiLeaks are exposing nothing more than day-to-day exchanges between government employees.  No, I don’t want my government to lie to me, and if they do, I want to know about it, but in actual fact, I don’t care if they lie to folks like Karzai and Ahmadinejad – or Hilary, Bill and Chelsea, either.  Nor do I have a burning need to know about it.  In the real world, international diplomacy is a serious business, and everybody should know the rules.  There are no rules.  Get used to it.

Finally, does publishing this stuff do any good?  No.  In fact, it does a lot of harm.  Suddenly, private assessment and analysis is available to anybody with a mouse and a modem.  Even Hannah Montana knows that there are certain things the whole world doesn’t need to know.  She also understands that being brutally honest — even selectively — can jeopardize your whole way of life.  It doesn’t take a genius to figure out that when you do this on a global scale, you’re just asking for trouble.  I don’t want the people I’ve hired to keep my world running smoothly looking over their shoulders and mincing their words.  My personal thought is that Julian Assange is like that smarmy kid in high school who always acted like a jerk, for no reason, just because he could.

So, on balance, WikiLeaks is not that hard a problem.  On the scale of good and evil or right and wrong, it’s wrong – full stop.  Of course, that doesn’t mean I’m going to quit reading them.

Worst-Kept Secret

Regardless of your political affiliation, one thing Canadians do is honour the men and women who serve this country.  That’s why it’s so shocking to see one of our most public of public servants getting kicked around like a deflated football.  I’m talking about Michael Ignatieff.  In the three federal by-elections this week, the Liberal Party managed to pull one victory out of thin air.  Somehow, that wasn’t good enough for the Whack-a-Mike crowd.  For the last couple of days, they’ve been raggin’ on the guy something fierce.  Frankly, since Mike’s come back to Canada, he has taken more flak than a Lancaster bomber over Germany in 1944.  So hey, lighten up.  He’s just doing his job.

Let me set the record straight.  Number one, Ignatieff is smart; he wakes up in the morning smarter than most of us are going to be all day.  Number two, he’s got the second most useless job on the planet*.  And number three, because he’s so smart he knows all about #2.  But does he flinch?  Does he waiver?  Does he tell everybody to go to hell and then head back to Harvard?  No, he does his job for his country — without complaint and with little reward (except for that huge pension.)  I ask the question: how would you like to spend your most productive intellectual years serving as a place holder for Justin Trudeau?  See?  It’s not so easy to criticize Mikey now, is it?

I’m going to tell you a story, and make no mistake: this is pure fiction.  Mike’s sitting around Cambridge, Mass. being smart one day in 2004, when he gets a conference call from The Boys in the Backroom of the Liberal Party of Canada.  Things have not been going well.  They give him the scenario ‘cause he really hasn’t been keeping track.  Chretien has screwed things up so badly even Mother Teresa can’t fix it.  Furthermore, he only printable name people are calling his replacement, Paul Martin, is “Mr. Dithers.” In the last federal election, even “the right wing has a secret agenda” ploy didn’t work.  So, now, Stephen Hitler Harper and his knuckle-dragging Conservatives are clawing at the gates of power.  The Natural Governing Party of Canada is in peril.

“Mike, your country needs you.”

Ignatieff didn’t hesitate.  “Boys, I’ve got some smart things to do this afternoon, but after that I’m your man.”

Mike packed his bags and his books and came back to Canada.  End of story.

The cunning plan was Ignatieff would take over the Liberal Party and barricade it tight in the big cities.  He’d stash the Heir somewhere in Quebec, as a Padawan Learner to seek the ways of the liberal elite.  He’d wait until the Conservatives had worn themselves out or torn themselves up over stupid stuff like abortion and gay marriage.  Then, in the next election, he’d chase them out of Ontario, win a majority, form a government and make Justin Trudeau Minister of Don’t Touch Anything.  Eventually, he’d step down, pass the majority government safely on to Trudeau and go back to Harvard, happy in the knowledge that history remembers ex-prime ministers more than college professors.

Unfortunately, Bob Rae and Stephane Dion didn’t read the e-mail.  They thought the whole thing was real, and if Buggering Things Up were an Olympic event, those two would be on the podium.  Within two years, the plan’s in the toilet, Harper’s had time to show Canada he’s not a wingnut, and the Liberal Party looks like an episode from Family Guy.  At this point, Mike could say, “I’m outta here!” but he doesn’t.  He takes over the party, as planned, cleans up the mess as best he can and embarks on a journey of abuse that would have made Job himself slap somebody.

Here’s the deal: unless you flunked Poli. Sci. in high school, you know damn well Michael Ignatieff is never going to be Prime Minister now.  The game has changed, and that’s not his job anymore.  His mission is to lose a couple of elections so Justin has time to tone down the arrogance, win friends and influence people.   Do you think Michael doesn’t know that?  He probably wrote the textbook.  He understands that he’s just keeping the chair warm.  It irks him, but he does it.  The Liberals can’t just leave the seat empty.  Somebody’s got to be there, if, for no other reason than Harper might suddenly flip out and decide to attack Denmark or something.

So why is everybody jumping all over the guy?  Every time he opens his mouth, somebody, somewhere, has got something to say about it – from both sides of the floor.  Look! Michael Ignatieff is performing a valuable service to Canada just by being there, so leave the guy alone and let him do his job.

*FYI – Joe Biden’s got the most useless job in the world.

Travellers’ Advisory

Every Canadian over the age of 12 has heard this story.  It’s a rite of passage in Canada, like going to the bar the first time (legally) or getting your driver’s license.  It’s one of the things that binds us together as Canadians — like hockey and godawful cold.  Unfortunately, it’s rapidly becoming a damn lie.  I’ve heard the story hundreds of times; so have you, and it has a million variations.  Essentially, it’s this: a Canadian returns from a trip that required a passport.  They unpack their clothes, show you the flotilla of pictures and then say something like,

“We had a great time.  You’ve got to go.  The people were just wonderful.  They were a little grumpy at first, but once they found out we were Canadians, [knowing pause] they couldn’t have been nicer.”  Everybody agrees, and somebody passes the dip.

What a crock!  This may have been true back when the Travelocity Gnome was a baby, but these days, in the realm of mythology, this ranks right up there with unicorns.  Canadian tourists are becoming obnoxious – I can’t state it any plainer.  We’ve been living on our rep for years, and even that’s wearing thin.  Back in the day, we pranced around the world content in the knowledge that our maple leaf would protect us from being mistaken for Americans, and that was good enough.  Our cup of smug overflowed every time we didn’t act as jerky as our American cousins.  The legend grew in the 10 provinces that people liked us best because we treated foreigners nicely – in their own country.

Now, I’m not saying Americans have started minding their manners; I’m saying we’ve forgotten ours.  Over the last decade, I have personally witnessed an ever-widening circle of such outrageous acts of rude as to make a crack addict blush — and I don’t travel much.  The sordid details run to volumes, so let me just hit the low points.  I’ve seen a man loudly explaining the stupidity of Castro’s police state to a couple of bartenders – and half the bar – in Havana, Cuba.  In Mexico, I watched a woman negotiate the price of a bracelet in English while her husband gave the rest of the tour a detailed play-by-play as if the shopkeeper was invisible.  I’ve seen a woman in a halter top and short shorts slide her chubby little bum over the barricade inside a cathedral in France so she could get a better picture of the people praying.    Also in France, three women from Ontario, would finish their breakfast, then go back to the buffet and load enough ham, bread and cheese into their purses to feed Camp Kandahar.  These chicks were notorious; we called them the “Je m’appelle Kathys,” and when they weren’t pilfering croissants, they were showing off their French 101 by complaining.  I think the desk clerks had a standing bet every morning on which one would start beaking first.  I’m not sure, but I saw money change hands.  They weren’t backpacking college kids, either, but professional women of an age who should have known better.

Those are just a few examples, but the granddaddy of them all (so far) happened in Mexico.  A particularly drunken crew of Canucks went marauding across the beaches of the Mayan Riviera south of Cancun.  By the time they were finished, the local police had been called in once, the Federales twice, and the all-inclusive resort where they were staying refused to serve them.  To show their disdain for the local custom of sobriety, they climbed to the top of the pyramid at Chichen Itza, proudly waved the flag, dropped their pants, and took turns taking pictures.   For those unfamiliar with Chichen Itza, it’s an ancient Mayan city in the Yucatan and a Unesco Heritage Site.  It is also the second most visited archaeological location in Mexico.  Their audience was huge.  Several other Canadians in the area, including me, began telling people we were from Seattle.  Ironic isn’t it?

Canada - Designated Area

Cheap airfares and a renewed sense of patriotism have combined with this super myth that Canadians are automatically liked wherever they go: it’s a perfect storm.  We’ve become loud and proud, but we still cling to the belief that everybody loves us just because we’re Canadian.  Then, back home we congratulate each other on the accomplishment – reinforcing the myth.

Here’s a news flash: you’re a tourist, one of many.  The people in the places you go to can’t complain.  They have to put up with you because their livelihood depends on it.  I don’t care how quaint the village is or how close you get to the local culture, those folks have to shut-up and take it or they might be out of a job.  Of course they smile; they’re in the service industry.  Whether they think you’re a nitwit or not, depends entirely on your behaviour.  So when you’re planning this year’s winter get-away to the fun and sun, here are a few tips that will make everybody’s life a little easier.

1 – When you’re sitting around the bed and breakfast complaining about the hired help, you need to remember two things: 1) the person standing there probably speaks English and 2) she’s not deaf.

2 – Tim Horton’s is a local establishment, so when you go to a busy restaurant, order a Double-double and laugh like you’ve been possessed by demons, the natives don’t get the joke — no matter how many times you repeat it.

3 – While it’s true that Canadian liquor laws were written in the 12th century, other countries are different.  You don’t have to drink it all.  They’re not going to take it away.

4 – People around the world may be poor and/or downtrodden by our standards, but you don’t have to point it out to them.  It’s embarrassing.

5 – Don’t tip in Canadian money – it’s not cute.

6 – Yes, swearing is de rigueur in Canadian society, but in other parts of the world, those colourful verbs, nouns and adjectives are considered crude — especially when you shout them in public places.

7 – Keep your clothes on.

8 – Whereas bargaining is part of some local cultures arguing over the price is not.  Know the difference.

9 – Just because you’re not particularly religious, other people might be, and those buildings are places of worship; show some respect.

10 – Okay, okay, okay, you’re not American.  They get it.

Finally, there’s one thing that would make me particularly happy.   If you absolutely insist on acting like a jackass, leave our flag at home.