What is your Nationality worth ?

I can be minutes away from writing a blog, and still have no idea what it’s going to be about – then Serendipity runs you down like a truck, and it’s obvious. I wanted to comment on a piece that told of how many Canadians were buying US real estate, what with the sudden swing in financial fortunes within the two countries now leading to a point where the great mortgage bubble burst will lead to more US houses being owned by ‘foreigners’, and what that is going to do to the remainder of the economy. Then came Lord Black of Crossharbour.

Now that Conrad Black may have found the legal loophole to escape US justice, it appears that he wants to come back to Canada – a strange decision, considering that he gave up his Canadian citizenship in order to get his ‘gong’ from the Queen. As a British passport holder that has been living here for over 20 years, I say: “Screw Him”. We weren’t good enough then, we shouldn’t be good enough, now (One reason that I have never given up my British passport – I may have to crawl back with my tail between my legs someday). Of course, he is also a convicted felon, so our laws don’t allow him to visit – even if it is just to sell his Toronto mansion, in order to pick up a short-sale foreclosed deal in Phoenix!

But, then I began questioning what is a passport, anyway? In the modern world, where we are all connected in some way to the rest of the planet, does it really matter anymore? Here are some weird facts and the usual personal conclusions.

Three Million Canadians now live outside the country. In fact Canadians make up 10% of Hong Kong’s population. 40% of Canadians donate to charities based outside the country, and in survey after survey, Canadians rate global issues as the most important to them: Global Warming, and International Social Justice, and 20% send money overseas monthly for their elderly relatives. Does this mean that we have become a ‘flag of convenience’ for all and sundry? Perhaps we are the most forward thinking country. We embrace World travel and a global education through experience. We know that we are no longer off the leash from our families elsewhere in the World with the Internet and cell phones giving us no excuse not to keep in touch.

Of course the major difference between us and other countries is the fact that we are part of the mosaic, not the melting pot. Canada wants us to remain both who we were, and who we are – or vice versa. If immigrants move here for escape, they soon settle down, have children and stay. Even if their children move away when they are older, Mom and Dad usually remain here instead of going back to the old country. Perhaps the argument that Immigrants are welcome both here, and in other countries makes us part of who we are: Unless, of course, you decide to give up your citizenship. That should be irreversible – So long Conrad, and thanks for the newspapers.

Thank God for the World Cup.

Let’s get the cliché out of the way. I DO remember England winning the World Cup. I was 6 years old, and my Father let me watch the game on a Saturday afternoon. He wasn’t a great Soccer fan, but realised the importance of the game in general, but especially for a boy of my age. For many quadrennial tournaments after that, the growing excitement game by game, round by round as our beloved ‘boys’ advanced to their usual quarter final exit always made me wonder what on earth was it like in 1966, when we hosted and won it all.

 In 1970, the West Germans were revenged with an extra time 3-2 win that just destroyed both my best friend and I when we inexplicably watched the entire game on a Saturday night live from Mexico. In the other two tournaments of that decade, we didn’t even qualify showing that the lazy, strike ridden workforce of other industries in pre-Thatcher days was mirrored by our national team. In Germany in 1974, Holland finally beat Brazil in a heart-stopping quarter final, before being stopped cold by a West German team in the final. Four years later, they once again failed at the final obstacle by an equally uninspiring Argentina in Buenos Aries. See? There was nothing wrong with winning at home – everyone did it. That was the Scottish decade, when the fiery blue shirts suddenly became British as a substitute for us at the World Cup.

 Even  when I outgrew everything I  the 80’s, I followed the World Cup: England robbed by a shaky tournament structure in Spain, when they never lost, but didn’t score enough to get to the semi-finals – Bloody Argentina! In 1986, the same country did for us in the quarter finals with two goals – one, the most sublime exhibition of solo skills I have ever seen, the other a blatant foul, that made us hate the Argies more than the Falkland conflict. Only my World travels, and the onset of my thirties quenched the fire for following the tourney in Italy and The States, but I still caught the semi final against Germany in a bar in Juneau Alaska, an watched the new English disease take root – the lack of penalty scoring. By 1998, I was back. Argentina again! This time we didn’t even reach the usual round-of-8. 2002, and Brazil did for us at the usual round in Japan. Four years ago, Portugal scored more than we did from the penalty spot in the quarters again.

 Now, here we are again. On public transit, the shirts of the nations surround me, and whispers of teams they were going to lose to are being passed around. For a country of immigrants, to still be able to support the flag is something like a guilty pleasure. Where and when else would I be able to pit a soccer shirt on for work and put these words into a sentence, and have it make sense: “ O.K. Boys – hammer three past Algeria”

 Eleven tournaments and counting, and another country that I’m a part of understand the significance of fleeting global competition and the hope of domination, even if they don’t get the game. A chance to get past the quarterfinals, and no Germany or Argentina in our way. Thank God it’s back.

What are YOU worried about?

Despite the breathless reports in the Press, the fact that an unemployed man last week was pulled over by Police, and charged with drunk driving isn’t a Sign of the Apocalypse. I would imagine that it is an almost nightly occurrence somewhere on the continent. In all other cases, the man’s prior employment status wouldn’t be questioned, unless he was a celebrity of some kind. Why is it in this case? Likewise, why would the identity of his wife (Who wasn’t with him at the time.), wouldn’t normally be an issue, or a contributing factor, either. In this case, however, these three seemingly unimportant details have completely taken over the facts, and hidden perhaps the most important questions in the case. What are the facts?

Raheem Jaffer used to be an MP of the ruling party, and was pulled over by a cop doing 90 KPH+ in a 50KPH zone. He was given a test, after admitting to have the usual “Just a couple of pints in the last hour.” (An admission of guilt that is generally half way out of your mouth before you have put your brain into gear after the fifth Vodka – or so I’m told.), and failed the test. He was cuffed and taken to the nearest Police detachment for a breathalyzer.

The cop thoughtfully grabbed his sports jacket from the passenger seat of his car before locking it and readying it for a tow to give to him. Upon investigating an inside pocket (Why?), she found a minute amount of cocaine in a ‘baggie’. Upon arriving at the Police Station, he phoned two lawyers he knew, but couldn’t get a reply. He phone Legal Aid, and was advised to take the Breathalyzer. He narrowly failed it. Then, the police wanted a strip search (Why?), so he agreed to that. During this time his lawyers phoned back and were told they couldn’t speak to their client, because he was already being tested.

Let’s fast forward. He was found guilty of speeding, got fined and had his penalty points added to his driving record. No criminal record, game over – he caught a break, and the Judge told him so. End of story, except that the Opposition and the press will not let it go. Justice was subverted, Politics and the Police were mixed, and the fact that Jaffer’s wife was a Cabinet Minister at the time is ‘obviously’ a pertaining fact. Now, I love a good conspiracy story as much as the next scared everyman, but let’s look at this a different way. 95% of all cases like this end in deals with prosecuting attorneys: He was narrowly over the limit, he had no previous record, he wasn’t a danger to anyone, and didn’t do anything except comply meekly upon caution. Any good defense attorney would take his own sweet time racking up the billing and getting him off, so we all saved some money, just as most deals do for us. But lets see what we are not being told:

Why was an ex-MP out to dinner with business people, handing out business cards stating he was still an MP? Why do the Police go through someone’s pockets for no reason, and then perform a strip, and possible cavity, search? I am more worried about possibly crooked lobbying with  – possibly – Property Developers, or U.S. hollower’s of Canadian businesses, and Police being able to invade everyone’s privacy on a whim than I am about Helena Guerges’ husband. She has enough of her own problems – just Google her.

Welcome to the Olympic Hangover

Man! Is it quiet around here!

 After 7 1/2 years of knowing the Games were coming, and an almost hourly update every hour for the last six months, the entire thing seemed to disappear in the blink of an eye. It only seemed like yesterday that we were hunkering down readying ourselves for the opening ceremonies, and now we are left feeling like we are experiencing the morning after the night before.

 I was frequently asked what I felt about having the games, and increasingly in the final few weeks, I was thinking that if it ever came off, it would be a miracle. After all, since we got the Games, we have experienced a global financial plug hole that saw about 20% of the planets wealth disappear with the last of the suds, and a tripling of the security budget to over $1 Billion. One month before kick off, w entered the mildest January on record, and one of the venues didn’t have enough natural snow for the first time in living memory. Even the day of the ceremonies, the games (and us, because we felt it keenly), there was a death on the sliding track. I remembered laughing at the U.S., coach’s description of that track in late 2009 as “An elevator shaft with ice.” suddenly the real mental picture of that phrase hit home, and I felt as guilty as hell.

 We have endured the sight of fragile, yet tall and perfectly dressed ski jumpers taking everyone to court from the IOC to the guy that grooms the snow in the landing area, because they wanted entry to the games. The morning after the opening ceremonies about 4 people tried to start a riot by smashing some glass, and we all held our breath – it didn’t take. Even during the opening, one of the major effects didn’t work, and we all knew that the rest of the world was sniggering at us. You know what? It didn’t matter an iota.

 It took a few days for every local to get into it, but as soon as the Canadians won their first gold, something happened. We knew we belonged, and the sound of the National Anthem being played made us feel as if we were hosts. Like the poor drunk who had a few too many waiting for the party to arrive at his apartment, we suddenly woke up and said: “We have paid for this, why don’t we just enjoy it?”

 Over 150,000 people dressed in red and white were walking around downtown every night – most of them from out of town, and the majority of those from out of the country. At the end of week one, we were winning a medal a day, and had our collective sights set on the Norwegians. When the hockey team crushed the Russians, even the U.S. loss in the round robin didn’t appear to be terminal. When our skeleton Gold came in, the town exploded, and the sight of him drinking from a pitcher of beer on the way from doping to a live TV interview that had been handed to him by a complete stranger, we felt that these athletes were just like us.

 I went to our local athletic track, named the O-Zone for the two week period, and enjoyed a free concert with 20,000 strangers, before piling into the Holland House (Junior hockey arena), and shared a Dutch speed skating Gold with overpriced Heinekens, and an indoor crowd I haven’t been a part of for decades. Most people did ditch their cars and take transit, which became the home to dozens of global accents.

There was no trouble, no crime, no riots, no demonstrations, no bodies, and hardly any drunks downtown. Then we won our 13^th Gold – tying a record only held by the Norskis and the mighty Soviets over 30 years ago. By the time the final day came around and Vancouver became a ghost town as the entire country watched the Gold medal game (You could hear the cheer when they scored the winner. Even if you were on top of a mountain), we knew that we had set a new record and had one of the most successful games ever. Time to say goodbye, and that was it – everyone left next day. Was the 80 Million plus we spent on athlete training worth it? Yes. How about the visitor numbers? Could we live with it? Yes.

What we never realised what we would feel is Pride. Pride in our city, our people, and our country. It was an unforgettable two weeks, and something I am proud to be a part of. Heck, I don’t even mind paying for it for the next Olympiad or two. Over to you, Russia, but be aware of the hangover – it’s quiet here.

Haiti: THIS is what we can do

The frightening images from Haiti over the last 36 hours may appear to be just the latest in a never ending episodes of Mother Nature’s Revenge against a species that has pushed it’s luck once too often. As a firm believer in my species’ part in recent and rapidly expanding climate change problems, I, too, am as likely as the next person to simply take in this information, throw up may hands, and thank God that it wasn’t me, this time. This time, however, may prove to be a turning point, thanks to the area that has been devastated: A turning point in the way that Human’s can change an area for the positive.

In past disaster’s, the emphasis has been on Government’s getting face time on TV to pledge support, the rapid deployment of initial emergency response to immediately save lives, and then the almost expected negative press some months later on promises being reneged on, and people still starving when the mighty battleships go home. Can we ‘turn the tide’ this time? Thanks to Haiti’s geography (I.e. In the West), can we do something long term in this instance to raise the future as well as the immediate present of this financial basket case?

In these situations, the first item to be addressed has to be the immediate. Already, only 36 hours after the earthquake hit, emergency response is on the way from the U.S, Canada, and the U.N. The immediate concern is for those that are saveable, the badly injured, and the young that will have the chance to be nursed back to health. Then comes the care of those not as badly hit, and those that made it through and are able to assist in the recovery. A few years ago, in the Thai Tsunami, the vast majority of aid ended here, because (let’s be honest), it’s Asia, so outside of those minority pockets of Asians in our community, who cared? But here is an area on our doorstep. Although the Haitian ex-pats in the West may be small in number, this toilet of a place has lasted in their current position of corrupt government, and lawless neighbourhoods for decades, and we all felt that we couldn’t do anything about that, because it is Sovereign Territory. Their lives may be screwed, but a sit is their land, we cannot do anything about it. Well President ‘DubYa’ changes the rules in Iraq, so let’s do it again. We can force a better life onto a people, apparently, for whatever reason we think fit, and the thousands of impoverished and ill Haitians reaching North American shores for asylum in the near future has to be looked upon as a threat to our social security welfare. Let’s change it.

Yes, the short-term targets remain the same, but let’s stay and get some long term goals met, too. Lets move the capital to the other side of the bay more than 15 Kilometres from the epicentre of this earthquake. Let’s build structures that can withstand the next one (when was the last one?). Let’s put people to work using their own talents to show them that a life can be lived just as fully and rewarding on their own island. Let’s re-vamp the electoral system, after all there isn’t one to speak of at the moment, and hasn’t been for years. The online community has proved that they can receive and send messages even though there isn’t an infrastructure left, so let’s begin industries aimed at making this Island paradise – and it could be – into a member of the global networked community, and make oit pay for the populace. Let’s take the dead, incinerate them all, build a monument to them and get in with a new and better life. One that allows these people to realise their own destinies, and stop them trying to be part of a Ice Hockey playing nation’s.

Looked at in this way, this disaster could be a golden opportunity to rebuild an entire country: One that is on our doorstep and deserves more from the ultra-rich than the lip service it has received for the past half century or so. Or – put another way – let’s do the right thing for a change.

Futuring the Royal Family

Whenever the media try to stir up anti-Royal feeling, I suffer the usual knock on consequence of having to answer for the existence of The Windsor’s. Just for the record, I look at the British Royal Family as I do about Christmas:

It is traditional, has nothing to do with me except gets me a day off, it creates some business, and makes us look at ourselves in a different way.

 

A recent state visit by The Prince of Wales and The Duchess of Cornwall had the usual negative media spin that proved the entire edifice of the Royals was crumbling, and no one could save it. Considering this point, I was surprised by the sheer amount of bytes and print inches, the visit caused. It was obviously the biggest story of the entire 10-day time period they spent in Canada! Ten days, of ‘nothing to see here’, and ‘no-one cares’, all shot in front of crowds of people, and breathless reporting about the importance of the stay.

 

So, just for the record, here is my take on the present and future of the Monarchy.

 

Prince Charles has had a massive effect on pop culture over the lat 50 years. No-one hugged a tree, saved a whale, or thought green before him, then had the balls to announce it to a World calling him nuts for doing so. He does a far better job where he is, rather than being the Monarch, when he has seen his Mother button her lip for her entire life. He should abdicate the throne when the Monarch dies, and pass it to a younger person with more in common with a modern world – a criticism frequently levelled at the institution.

The Princes’ heroes through out his life have always been the quieter, more influential ‘powers behind the throne’ such as Lord Mountbatten, so he can support his sons while he is slipping into a dotage. Let’s be honest, he has had his life, he has finally got his love next to him, who needs the hassle? He could be 80 before he gets the job, anyway.

 

The first order of business for King William should be to thin out the Civil List that is the line of royals supported by the British taxpayer. Earlier in the Century, we all had larger families, and there is an incredible amount of hanger’s on from Elizabeth’s cousins, etc. Once they pass on, lets ask their kids to get careers – most of them do anyway. This should result in large properties becoming free. Let’s put them to a social use that will benefit as many people as possible. Both ‘heir and spare’ have a job to do promoting Britain. They will both have spouses, and offspring, but there shouldn’t be any more people doing this important job.

 

This should make them ‘relevant’ to the majority of us, cost less, and modernise the institution with no hard feelings, or hardship to anyone. See, I am a royal supporter, but even I see that believing in them as they are is a little like believing in Father Christmas. We have already modernised the annual gift giving festival, let’s move on to another ancient tradition.

Faster, Higher, Greedier

Any Blog dealing with how the modern World has been corrupted by the corporatization of everything, and the spectre of global puppeteers affecting our lives, has to mention the Olympic games. As pointed out by the brilliant journalist, Doug Sanders recently, the IOC needs this games to be run by an authoritarian regime like China. It needs this immense quadrennial exercise in self-promotion to get bigger, but there aren’t many governments left that can support it.

I went through most of the 90’s hating the nostalgia of the 1960’s that washed through our popular culture: Movies, trends, and TV that celebrated ten years in the lives of writers, producers and actors alike; almost God-like reinventions of Political, Artistic and Business figures, and the presentation of basically everyday decision to the importance of The Big Bang. I now realise that these movies, trends, songs and virtually everything else were exercises in nostalgia when these current day human megaphones were younger, more easily impressed, and who felt cheated by the decades since their ‘golden age’. From Oliver Stone’s fantasies about Vietnam and the US at the time, to the agenda pushed on us that if JFK, Bobby, and Martin had lived, the World would have been different. Of course, as I now reach their age, I am beginning to feel the same.

I wasn’t even 10 years old in 1970, so while my cohort saw the other side of the coin (Nixon, Northern Ireland, Airline terrorism etc.), my childhood was full of two great movements: The Space Race and the Olympics every two years: It seemed to me the fact that we were going to the moon, and could put live TV pictures of amateur athletes battling each other for nothing more than a hunk of metal at the end of a ribbon were both examples of a not-too-distant future when we could bury all known hatchets, and live together as grown ups, not squabble like bored 3 year-olds at your Aunt’s house on a Sunday afternoon. It has only recently that it has become clear to me that these two great human endeavours were simply part of the Cold War that haunted my life for 30 years. The Olympic Games as a political tool? Yes! And being promoted by one of the largest, and unaccountable, movements on earth.

In Mexico in 1968, the two ‘Black Power’ salutes on the podium was a way that the old USSR could crow about how America was at war with itself. The US was embarrassed and forbade anything like that ever again, but by the time Munich ’72 came around the sheer amount of USSR and US athletes marching in a paramilitary fashion reached proportions only seen on May Day parades in Moscow. Only the missiles and tanks were missing. The slaughter of Israeli athletes was – in a way – proof that while these two nations stared each other down, other smaller nations with political agendas and a disregard for human life could grab their own headlines. With Security a major issue for 1976, Montreal was chosen as a safe haven that the Americans could ‘look after’.

If the Americans could salve it’s conscious over Vietnam, and make sure that all of its athletes were safe, it was to boycott the Moscow Olympics, and the Soviets returned the favour in Los Angeles. It is not a stretch of the imagination to understand that the US supported Seoul’s bid for the 1988 Olympics in order to protect ‘everyone’ from the North and the evil empire. They got a break when the USSR went bankrupt, so we had a Spanish Olympics and then an Australian one. Neither of which were as successful as 1984, which, in a turnaround from 8 years earlier, did nothing for sport in the States, or LA in particular, but were a huge financial success. The Athens games almost bankrupted the entire country, so the IOC needed a large nation to step forward and re-start the Cold war – especially as the European Union would help out the London bid for 2012. That is why China is hosting the largest peacetime movement of people in human history, and hosting it in an architectural centrepiece that is the largest indoor space ever built on the planet.

Heroes will be made (and you know it’s Michael Phelps, thanks to the amount of ink and pixels spent on him), and hunks of metal on ribbons will be won and lost. Billions of TV’s will watch the games – probably the most ever but this isn’t ‘China’s coming out party’ or anything else so altruistic. The real winner will be the advertisers opening up new markets for luxury goods that people cannot afford, and – most of all – the money held in trust by the IOC. They have gone through 10 Olympiads growing their brand to the most recognised on earth, and raking in Billions of dollars. They have nowhere to go but up, but is there anywhere left to go? Is there anyone rich enough to host future games? Is there anyone that can afford it?

If not, it’s going to simply end – the most successful business model of all time. One whose logo is understood by every person on earth, and whose public aims are completely  misunderstood. “We will support war if it means making money.”