OPINIONS

Jin Jîyan Azadî!

It’s time we hang Iran’s regime up by our hair.

PHOTO | KIM NGAN PHUNG

KALLIOPÉ ANVAR MCCALL ASSOCIATE OPINIONS EDITOR

You've probably heard by now. ‘Death of a young woman in Iran sparks global protests’—it's all over the news. Kim Kardashian empathises. Even Bratz Inc. supports the demonstrations. Love and solidarity are great, but is that it? Beyond delivering heartfelt statements, nobody seems to care about Iran. The media in the West is warping the news coming out of the Middle Eastern country. I'd like to set the record straight.

Her name is Jîna Amini, not Mahsa. Mahsa is the Persian name she was given to fit in. Jîna is what her family called her. Jîna is from Seqqez, a city in Kurdistan occupied by the Islamic Republic (Iran refers to the people; Islamic Republic refers to the murderous, dictatorial government). It's criminal to be a Kurd under the regime in Iran. She was on a visit to Tehran and, allegedly, she wasn't wearing her hijab ‘properly.’ That's all it took—her ethnicity and gender—for her to be murdered. The police, a force ironically created to defend their version of ‘morality’, claimed she died of preexisting health issues. They lied. She was killed, just like countless others have been, under the merciless regime of the Islamic Republic.

The murder of Jîna Amini on September 16 is the straw that broke the camel's back. 43 years of massacre is enough. 43 years of gender apartheid is enough. As I write this, people from across Iran are in the streets protesting the regime. They are yelling “Woman, Life, Freedom!” In Kurdish, “Jin Jîyan Azadî! Death to the dictator! I will kill, I will kill the one who kills my sister! Say her name!” Many are singing songs from the 1979 revolution, beautiful songs of strength, unity, and courage. (Some are wishing for the return of the days of the Shah, the leader of Iran before the Islamic Republic. For Jîna, however, that is not a golden age, as Kurds were oppressed under the Shah too.) Many who were forced to wear the hijab are now burning it, and cutting their hair short.

The size of the protests is reminiscent of the 2019 demonstrations in Iran during the fuel price outcry. Over 1,500 people died then, although the Islamic Republic reported only a few hundred. This time, the media has estimated the deaths of 75 people. But the death toll is most likely higher. In 2019, like what’s happening now, the Islamic Republic shut down the internet in most of the country. No internet means no communicating with loved ones, no organising, and no access to online essential services. No internet means a lot of deaths kept silent.

It's not just in Iran that people are outraged. In the diaspora, Iranians are erupting into protest. There has been a demonstration almost every day in the Greater Toronto Area since Jîna's murder, and they are growing bigger with each passing minute. Toronto is, after all, the home to the second largest concentration of Iranians living outside Iran, after Los Angeles. On the evening of September 23, approximately 1,000 protesters occupied Dundas Square. There were close to 50,000 people in Richmond Hill on October 1. The size of these crowds is unprecedented for Iranians protesting in Toronto—and yet there were very few news sources present. If this was concerning Ukraine, every media outlet in the city would have reported on the protest.

Even the University of Toronto is hosting protests in honour of Jîna. On a freezing afternoon last week, approximately 300 students gathered for a vigil in front of the office of the President of the University, Meric Gertler. (Gertler, along with the rest of the administration was conspicuous in their absence.) I got to hear Azam Jangravi give a speech. Jangravi is an exiled feminist activist from Iran now living in Toronto. She told the story of the day she, like many others, stood in one of the largest squares in Tehran and ripped off her hijab. Nima Yajam, a queer rights activist and political refugee, also delivered a moving speech. Jangravi and Yajam reminded me that queer-led and women-led movements have always been at the forefront of change.

Whether these protests will bring about real change is a source of great debate. Most are saying little will change. Although it is important not to dismiss the power that feminist movements hold, it does feel hopeless. The Islamic Republic routinely murders, routinely offers up martyrs to act as an outlet for decades of anger. This is not new. The imbalance of power between the people and the dictatorship is too great. But most of all, it feels hopeless because nobody gives a shit about the Middle East.

Speaking of, Canada’s House of Commons adopted a solidarity motion—a cowardly and performative act meant to release the Canadian government from the pressure of implementing concrete change. Meric Gertler too, feeling sheepish, issued a statement of solidarity with Iran to the UofT community. (The grandiose speech he gave after the passing of Queen Elizabeth II put this puny statement to shame.) Is that the extent of international aid one can expect? Empty acts of solidarity?

The situation continues to unfold. Iran is now bombing a region of Kurdistan occupied by Iraq for, allegedly, fueling the protests. (Iraq doesn't seem to mind that their own people are being bombed. More proof that being a Kurd is inherently criminal.) Canada is tightening their sanctions on the country. Whether this will do more harm to the people instead of the government remains to be seen. The Canadian Conservative Party is also pushing to designate the Islamic Revolutionary Guard Corps (IRGC) a terrorist organization. Doing so might justify humanitarian intervention, but at what cost? Will it not fuel anti-Iranian racism abroad? Will it not justify a gung-ho, white saviour war on the ‘uncivilised’ Middle East?

History has proven that Iran does sometimes fold to international pressure. This means moving beyond performative ‘solidarity’ and towards concrete action. That means write to your local politician. Write to UofT. Apply pressure. Tell your leaders what I've told you. Other than that, I have nothing else to recommend but protesting. Please, go shout in the streets, “Jin Jîyan Azadî!” I will leave you with these words from Marina Nemat: “[...] miracles do happen in history. The problem is they are usually neither quick nor easy—and they do have a high cost.”

The dark side of the internet

Does our curiosity sometimes destroy us?

Content Warning: Disturbing descriptions of violence

ABBIE HOOD CONTRIBUTOR

Most people are aware that there are two sides to the internet: the ethical and the unethical. There are things that everyone sees, like funny videos, outfit ideas, tutorials, etc; and there are things that most people try to avoid. While the sensible will steer clear of the gory content available for any who look hard enough, sometimes our curiosity can get the better of us, and when it does, these dark forums are ready to welcome us with open arms—the most notorious of which being the Dark Web.

While not many people I know have been on it, most are aware of its existence. The Dark Web is a part of the internet hidden in an encrypted layer below the normal web, which requires a special tool to access and maintain anonymity. Much like the internet, the Dark Web also has good and bad sides; or, rather, ethical and unethical sides. The ethical being some of its chatrooms—which can be used for private messages to broker deals or send confidential information—or its libraries, with thousands of free online books just a quick search away. But the ethical side is not what draws people in. People’s curiosities are spiked by the potential atrocities they can see; the morbidity within each of us that calls out when we hear of what lurks behind the shadows.

As Paul Dwyer suggested when speaking to The Irish Times, the Dark Web can quickly become too real too fast, and the more you see, the more desensitised you become. The more videos that haunt you, the more gory the next one will have to be to affect you.

Reddit users answered a question regarding their search on the Dark Web, describing the disturbing things they saw. Reddit user @billosito described a page that claimed to be selling young women and children. Another user by the username of @skere_ik described a video of a man getting stuck in a metal lathe and being chopped into pieces. Multiple users saw cartel members torturing and murdering victims in the most gruesome ways imaginable. These users appeared to regret what they saw, the images haunting them to this day. They did not go out in search of videos like this, but their curiosity regarding the Dark Web drew them in, and they fell down the rabbit hole too fast to stop themselves before seeing what they would come to regret. @Austinvro on TikTok perfectly encapsulates this thirst for knowledge. His profile is largely just videos covering the darker side of the internet. He has accumulated 4.9 million followers and 78.8 million likes. In one of his series, he delves into the Dark Web, going where commenters ask him to. One of these areas are the Red Rooms, where people can pay to watch, vote on, and control the live torture of another human being (often a woman). Although the authenticity of these rooms has been debated, the sentiment remains. Austin's followers wanted to know more, their own curiosity sending them to potentially very mentally damaging sides of the internet.

Austin, for his own gain, feeds into this interest that the public has for potentially scarring videos and information. Those that are too afraid to enter that side of the web for themselves will find others to do it for them, and there are people who are happy to oblige.

My point is not to shame people who merely seek out this knowledge to understand the Dark Web; instead, my point is to question what draws people there at all. Why do people, who comprehend the potentially damaging content that can be accidentally found, still look for the Dark Web? Have we, as a society, become so used to seeing these types of videos that we no longer feel fear when looking for them? Are we, instead, so afraid of missing out on a part of the internet others have accessed, that we will risk falling into the worst that it can offer? Most people do not want to see the horrific images present on the Dark Web, but most people still stumble across them during their investigation.

While this can all seem outside of your version of the internet, it is not as far away as you think. Within minutes of research for this article I found the extension I needed to download and multiple tutorials on how to access the Dark Web. While we believe that if we avoid the Dark Web, we will never see the graphic videos and images that one sees there, similar images are on Reddit. These make their way onto other platforms, like TikTok, which then make their way onto unsuspecting people’s “For You” pages.

The Dark Web and Reddit both contain various graphic images that can easily traumatise viewers. Reddit users even boasted about how tame the Dark Web is in comparison to what they have seen on other forums. An odd boast that truly does exemplify the multiple sides to the internet, for all those who are brave enough to go looking.

People will find what they want to, regardless of what forum it is on. The curiosity within each of us sometimes expands out to a darker side for some. This horrific content that individuals can discover will always have a lasting impact, whether users realise it or not. Nobody is immune to the horrific things they see, nor are they supposed to be.

The Dark Web can be a twisted place—while some users are only there for Netflix passwords and drugs, there are other much more twisted individuals hiding behind the anonymity this subset of the internet provides. If you decide to go against your better judgment and search the depths of these forums, make sure you don’t get too lost in it. Although there is lots to be seen, not all of it should be.

A deep dive into languages, family, connection, and curiosity

ILLUSTRATION | SHELLEY YAO

What’s that word?

stefania KucynsKi

CONTRIBUTOR

Language and language learning have always been constant and crucial parts of me. I was born into a family of Polish immigrants, the first Canadian born baby in my family. My family, by choosing to teach me Polish from day one, set me on a course that would forever change my life.

Since I was little, my life has been split into two. Polish was spoken at home,with my family, and English was used everywhere else. I watched the same movies repeatedly in both Polish and English; the same deep, rumbling Polish voice over for every Disney and Studio Ghibli movie I watched. I wish I could say I was already curious about languages, but for the first ten years of my life I simply split my time between those two languages. I didn't realize how amazing it was that I spoke Polish at home. I just knew my favourite people in the world were my grandparents, and they all felt more comfortable talking to me in Polish, so I returned the favour. I didn't think about languages as something to actively learn outside my family until I was in the fourth grade. My teacher gave everyone a sheet with the title, “Consider your child for Extended French.” I enrolled myself, much to the hesitancy of my parents.

My mom and dad were excited for me, but I knew they had no way of helping me with a language neither of them knew. Instead of letting that stop them, or me, my parents decided to help me as much as they could with my French. We spent evenings practicing my vocabulary, occasionally watching French movies, and listening to my mom’s favorite french singer, ZAZ. I only realize now that learning a new language can sometimes be an intergenerational effort. My parents wanted me to succeed, and so they took time out of their days to help where they could. With the help of my parents and my teachers, I became dedicated to French and really fell in love with it. I’m now majoring in French language learning. Now it’s my turn to help my brother as he navigates his French classes. I’m glad I can help when he has questions, because I feel like I’m paying back my parents for their efforts.

I was practicing three languages by the time I reached highschool. When I was in grade ten, I noticed I was eligible to take an introductory Italian course. I took the course, because I wanted to impress my uncle’s family next time I visited them. My aunt married into an Italian family, and I thought learning a bit of Italian would be a nice way to connect with them. My curiosity for the language stemmed from a place of connection. I wanted my uncle’s family to laugh and feel that sense of recognition when you hear someone speaking your native language. I also knew it was hard for my uncle’s family to find a community of Italians when they moved to Canada. I fell in love with Italian, and the other side of my double major is Italian studies!

Now you know so far that I have a connection to the languages I decided to learn, usually because of my family. So why bother with this feature? Before starting on this article, I wanted to write something about intergenerational languages and language loss. When I started English in elementary school, I lost my fluency in Polish. While language meant connection for me, it also meant loss. I love Polish, but I’ve always had such a strange relationship with it. Although I spoke it most of my life, towards high school I began feeling inadequate in the language compared to some classmates who attended Polish school. I like connecting with this part of my identity, but I find I can be incredibly insecure in my Polish and sometimes I don’t even want to try. It wasn’t even until recently that I realized how much I need to actively work at preserving these abilities. This realization came in a few waves. The first wave was my cousins. My Polish cousin and her husband live with us. I want to talk to them in Polish, but I sometimes find I lack the vocabulary I need to express myself the way I would in English, for example. The second wave of realization concerns my grandparents. As I get older, I want to talk to them about the intricate concepts I learn in school, their lives, or anything. In these scenarios, I see myself stumbling over words and using anglicisms.

Many of my family members rely heavily on, or simply prefer using their native language. I need to work on my fluency daily, so I can really cherish moments with my family and make them more comfortable. I need to work on it, because it is so easy to lose a language you don't actively use. I see my parents, born and raised in Poland, occasionally forgetting words in Polish. It’s hard work, but it’s work I've decided to undertake, so I can preserve the language my family has been speaking for generations. I choose to work towards fluency, so my family can tell me who they are in a way that they feel comfortable and confident.

The stories of people in our lives, those who came before us, and those yet to come are rooted in our ability to communicate with the same tongue. Like my professor Dr. Mohammad Jamali cited, “Languages live the lives of their speakers.” It is a privilege to connect with someone on a linguistic level. On a trip to Poland in 2010, I met a lot of my extended family. During those two weeks, I could see how happy my extended family was that their loved ones valued Polish enough to speak it with them and continue speaking it.

On that trip, I was lucky enough to meet my great grandma. When I look back on it, this was the moment I knew I had to keep using Polish. Babcia (grandma in Polish) Stasia was already 80 years old when I met her. She was my grandpa’s mom and she was so happy to meet me. We spent days in her garden, eating wild strawberries, and tending to her chickens. I don’t remember everything from that trip, but I remember my babcia being so kind and making me laugh. To this day I can't describe how happy I am that I got to meet her. I can’t tell you how glad I am that my parents taught me Polish, so I could make those memories with her and hear about her life. She passed away in 2016, may she rest in peace. For me, language means connection and growth. For others, language could be a necessity, a burden, a painful reminder, a hobby, or anything else. I do think language can be one of the most powerful tools to connect people, like I was able to connect with my family in Poland, with teachers, or my parents.

That being said, no matter how dedicated you are to the study of language, there is the looming obstacle of translation. It is impossible to seamlessly translate. The debate is, do you stick to the most correct version of a translation and risk losing the nuances of the original language? Or do you respect the nuances of the original and risk getting a less than faithful translation in return? In my experience, I really think it depends on the situation. When I translate things for my family, or explain words I learned in another language to them, I try to be as literal as possible, so it makes sense logically. When I’m working academically, I think there are benefits to leaving the nuance, even if it means the translation isn’t perfect.

Here I am talking about connection, languages, and translation, and yet I don’t think you have to have a deep connection to a language to be curious about it. Have you ever heard someone speaking in a foreign language and wanted to know if they were talking about you? Have you ever seen a sign or heard a song you didn't understand? This is the basis of curiosity. Curiosity, a desire to understand, learn, or know something, is deeply entangled with language. Based on what I’ve learned, language learning is especially beneficial when you have a curiosity or desire to learn it. Not everyone is privileged enough to learn a language, because they want to, it can be from necessity, but if you’re into a language as a hobby, curiosity is crucial. Whether it be because of family, academics, or something more personal, the drive to learn a language is already half the battle. I suffer from a persistent curiosity for, and hunger for languages. I live and breathe my languages, both for interpersonal and academic reasons.

The art of learning a language is more complicated than it seems. Languages are their people, cultures, histories, victories, and defeats. Don't let anyone ever tell you that learning a language is a waste of time. At the same time, don’t forget languages are deeply personal. I love learning my languages, but they are tied to painful memories, and I have to keep working at them, so I don’t lose them. Because language is so engrossed in people and their lives, our curiosities have to be taken with caution. With the desire to learn a language, knowing the history and nuances of that language is vital. If a language intrigues you, learn it! But be conscious of the real experiences and connections people have with languages, whether their native tongue or an acquired one. As language learners, it is our job to be respectful of the nuance and power dynamics at play in language.

Entropy: the disorder of the universe

The chaos we witness every day, which resides in the order of the universe

PHOTO | NICHOLAS TAM

wesley luo CONTRIBUTOR

A tree falls in a tropical rainforest, scattering debris in all directions as the sound of parrots squawking in surprise can be heard. Entropy—sounds complicated, doesn’t it? However, you’ve just witnessed it. In fact, you witness it every day. Entropy is simply a measure of randomness.

When your parents tell you to clean up your room because it is too messy, one could say that it is in a state of high entropy because it is disordered. Your room has a lot of matter in it—for example, your prized possessions. It also has a lot of energy. The scientific laws of thermodynamics, which describe the interactions between matter and energy, has a law which state that entropy in an isolated system can only increase and never decrease. An isolated system is defined as a system in which no matter or energy flows in or out. If Earth is an isolated system, then its entropy should tend to increase. A fallen tree certainly looks more disordered than an upright tree. By making the tree fall, the entropy—or disorder—of the planet has increased.

On the other hand, entropy is also how humans distinguish between natural and man-made structures. If you saw a pile of logs neatly stacked up on the ground, you would probably think that a human— more specifically, a lumberjack—had done it. But why? Because nature tends to push things to become more disordered. A neat pile of logs is not disordered, but randomly strewn-out logs are. Our brains are able to make a distinction between what is and what isn’t natural based on how random it appears.

Entropy is also connected to time. Our world revolves around time, but this comes at a cost. Remember, nature loves disorder. By accurately measuring time, we are going against nature’s wishes. The more precise our clocks are, the more entropy they emit, and consequently, the more disorder is released into the world. Physicists previously observed a correlation between the precision of a quantum clock and the entropy it emits. However, they wanted to test if this relationship held true for other clocks.

Researchers created a thin clock from a sheet of membrane and suspended it between two fixed points. Electrical signals were then used to make the membrane bend up and down, simulating the ticking of common clocks. As the intensity of the electrical signal was increased, the clock flexed up and down more precisely, and more entropy was emitted. Thus, the researchers were able to conclude that this relationship held true for other clocks.

From wood burning to the chemical reactions that take place inside our bodies, entropy describes the processes of our everyday lives. By studying it, we can begin to understand our world better.

The case for reinventing scientific academia

Why the current system fails to retain bright scientific talent, and how we can fix it

mathula muhundan

CONTRIBUTOR

Academia is mysterious. The inner workings of the world of scientific research are often inaccessible to the public. Its products, like journal articles and experimental data, are frequently met with bewilderment. Prior to the post-secondary level, the education system provides little insight into how academia functions or how people within academia view the field in which they work.

Research and scientific discovery are often challenging. It can be difficult for people to know what to look for if they don't already fully understand it — a situation known as Meno’s paradox. The current difficulties of working in academic fields, however, are so insurmountable that they drive away masses of potential and established researchers alike. This often leads to early and mid-career scientists making the shift towards industry careers. Contributing factors include the lack of funding for reseach, increased workloads that have led to a mental health crisis, political hostility towards academic work in the sciences, and salaries that don’t keep up with the rising cost of living.

The Great Resignation, a phenomenon sparked by the COVID-19 pandemic that has permeated all industries, describes workers voluntarily quitting their jobs en masse due to wage stagnation, limited opportunities for career development, and toxic work environments, amongst other reasons. These underlying and unresolved issues in academia, combined with other effects of the COVID-19 pandemic, have led to the opinion that the Great Resignation has struck research, and that its long-term impacts will be profound. An article by Virginia Gewin in Nature, includes opinions from researchers who have left academia, all of whom deplore severe mismanagement of academic institutions, as well as recent shifts to forprofit models of university funding, as is the case in the United Kingdom. As the number of students enrolled in higher education increases, so too does the number of contract-based academic positions that signify less job security. The pandemic also exacerbated the struggle to fund research, with increased pressure and competition to obtain grants from funding agencies, amid little to no support from institutions. Academics also face pressure to publish as many journal articles as possible, in order to demonstrate their research productivity and eventually secure coveted tenure-track positions that usually lead to better job security and reliable pay.

Systematic biases often play a role in security in academia; minority groups such as women and people of colour can face inequitable barriers related to career advancement. University departments without explicit criteria for tenure and promotion evaluations implicitly disadvantage minority academics.

The skewed work-life balance typical to academic positions, with their longer and more uncertain work hours compared with their industry counterparts, has also led to a mental health crisis that is particularly dire amongst graduate students. Their stipends often teeter on the minimum wage, or below what is required for the cost of living, even though they do much of the labour within their workplaces. Amongst established academics, the added workload of administrative and increased teaching duties can lead to even more stress.

Though the current state of academia may seem bleak, many scholars are currently working towards changing institutional practices. An article written by Beronda L. Montgomery for Nature Microbiology highlights the necessity of pushing universities to make equitable hiring decisions to better include underrepresented groups.

Guillermo Campitelli also suggests reinventing how the scientific community evaluates research results and productivity amidst a replication crisis, particularly in psychology, where an alarming majority of published papers are proving to be irreplicable. This is due to the pressure on scientists to publish without checking the replicability of results, in addition to the pressure of publishing statistically significant findings. As such, Campitelli suggests retiring statistical significance as a threshold for results entirely.

Academia was originally a haven for discoveries to satisfy our never-ending curiosity and to make our world a better place. A long road of improvements lies ahead to restore the field to serve its original purpose.

The power of ‘perhaps’

Author Margaret Atwood and Professor Randy Boyagoda discuss democracy—and what lies in store for its future

PHOTO | UOFT FACULTY OF ARTS AND SCIENCE

MAIA ROBERTS

CONTRIBUTOR

On a chilly September evening, I and more than 100 other guests gathered in the Hart House Great Hall to attend The Story of Democracy: What’s Next?—a moderated panel discussion featuring two highly distinguished speakers sharing their takes on the merits and challenges of a democratic society. The first panelist, Margaret Atwood, is a world-renowned author of more than 50 books—including the hugely successful The Handmaid’s Tale—and recipient of more than 50 literary awards. The second featured panelist is UofT’s own Randy Boyagoda: president of St. Michael’s College, professor in the English department, regular contributor to literary magazines and journals, and the author of five acclaimed novels. Moderating the conversation was Munk School visiting fellow, journalist, and former editor of the New York Times Book Review, Sam Tanenhaus.

Professor Boyagoda begin the conversation by picturing democracy as “[a] place where incompatible realities sit side by side on the bus.” He points to the many places where incompatible realities exist together every day: in the classroom, in a cafeteria, in the very hall we were sitting in. “How do we live together with these incompatible realities? […] Is democracy as a system the best way to do it?”

Professor Boyagoda posits that our current society’s idea of the ‘intellectual’ is far too limited. The title need not be reserved for the select few who have the money and resources to attend elite academic institutions. Intellectualism, Boyagoda argues, is being “willing and capable of unnecessary thought.” It is exceedingly easy to stay entrenched in our own beliefs, never forcing ourselves to be challenged by critical thought. However, being open to considering the differing beliefs and opinions of others—justified by vastly different values—means making the deliberate choice to perhaps be proven wrong. “Democracy,” as Boyagoda puts it, is all about “having arguments, but still being in the same room. [...] It is unnecessary that we are here. That’s why we’re here. Those are the ways that we counteract erosion.”

When comparing examples of threatened democracies in the past versus the present, Atwood reveals that the dystopian societies she writes of in her books contain nothing in them that hasn’t already happened somewhere before. When asked if she considers authors to be prophets, she echoes the sentiments of another renowned dystopian fiction writer, George Orwell. When rearranged, the title of his most well-known book, 1984, becomes 1948, a period where fascism ran rampant through much of Europe. Orwell’s ‘Big Brother’ was not a mere character in a fictional techno-dystopic surveillance state, but a covert nod to Stalin’s calculated attempts to control the minds of Russian civilians at the time. Like Orwell, Atwood’s deliberate choice to weave truth into her fictions demonstrates the important role that writers and storytellers play in our collective moral consciousness. Through highlighting these stains in our history books, storytellers show us how easily the mistakes of our past can bleed through to our future.

If democracy is a story, what kind of book could possibly contain its multitudes? We are often taught to view democracy as one written on yellowed paper, sitting on an inaccessibly high shelf, its contents reserved for only a select few of its scribes (and the library’s biggest donors, of course). But perhaps the true nature of democracy is a lot messier: it’s the crossedout and re-written scribbles of profundity on a café napkin, or maybe it’s the collection of centuries’ worth of annotations in the margins of a borrowed book. It may be a work in progress, yes, but a fundamentally important work all the same.

To emphasize the importance of free, democratic discourse with his students, Boyagoda presents a challenge—for everyone, but especially for those who call themselves intellectuals—to reintroduce a neglected word into their vocabulary: perhaps. Perhaps you’re right. Perhaps I hadn’t thought of it that way. Perhaps we may even have some things in common.

Instead of automatically shutting out an opinion different from ours or always seeing things in black and white, we could try to give others the benefit of the doubt. Perhaps we’ll agree on something after all. Perhaps not.

That’s what democracy is, after all—a work in progress. We’ve all got to start somewhere.

High School Musical 2 Shadowcast: A Splashing Success

I indeed got “SOOO WET!”

ILLUSTRATION | VICTORIA COLLEGE DRAMA SOCIETY

nina KatZ

CONTRIBUTOR

High School Musical 2 (HSM2). We all know it. We all love it. We all acknowledge that it is objectively the best HSM movie (argue with the wall). I did not think that it was possible to improve an already perfect product, and yet through the magic of the Victoria College Drama Society, in collaboration with Casting Shadows Theatre Company, I was proven wrong. The event took place at the Cat’s Eye on September 23 and 24 and, in two words, it slayed. Their shadow cast (which is when actors act and dance alongside the movie being projected) was a tightly choreographed, deliciously campy extravaganza.

One of the joys of shadow casting is audience participation. Before the show began, we were given the instructions to laugh, heckle (kindly, of course), groan, and sing along! A stand out was that whenever the movie had water in frame, the audience had to scream “we are gonna get SOOO WET!” in reference to one of the most iconic lines in the film. It created a warm atmosphere of people laughing with the actors, openly sharing their appreciation, and chuckling at comments from fellow hecklers and spectators.

The production took liberties with their presentation of the source material that I believe is in the true spirit of HSM2. Why? Because it was gay as hell! Stand-out moments for me include: Troy, Gabriella, and Kelsi becoming a throuple in “You are the Music in Me,” Ryan and Chad finally getting together in “I Don’t Dance,” and replacing Troy’s photo of himself in his room with a blowup sex doll with Zac Efron’s face on it. They also sped up and skipped the highly problematic number “Humuhumu,” which… Thank god.

The performances were so fun to watch; the lip synching was clean and precise, especially for the dialogue, and the dance numbers were amazing. The choreography was a mix of faithful representations of what was happening on screen and reinterpretations that suited the performance space, and it worked wonderfully. The production was wonderful as well! I was blown away by the accuracy of the costumes and adored the small parodic prop pieces. Shout out to Troy’s enormous T-necklace and the little multipurpose pushable car.

All in all, this was a treat. It was a stroke of genius to shadow cast such a well-known and sort of goofy movie, and it was a pleasure to watch a performance that clearly had such passion and care poured into it. Bravo!

Defending the right to boycott

A conversation about the documentary Boycott

KALLIOPÉ ANVAR MCCALL aSSOCIaTE OpINIONS EDITOR

For the 15th anniversary of the Toronto Palestine Film Festival (TPFF), my friend Isobel Bird and I agreed to see Boycott, a documentary directed by Julia Bacha, and released in November of 2021. On our way home, we chatted about the film. Here's what we had to say.

The film exposes a shocking piece of current legislation silently passed in 33 states across the United States, that prevents citizens from boycotting Israel. The anti-boycott clause is found at the bottom of every governmental business contract in the state; workers must pledge not to withhold their income from Israeli goods or services if they wish to keep their jobs. Remaining neutral, Bacha shadowed three Americans who refused to sign their contracts and filed a lawsuit against their respective state governments for breaching the 1st Amendment, the right to free speech.

Isobel Bird: I believe [the neutrality of the film] is a good thing.

Kalliopé Anvar McCall: Why?

IB: [In a documentary,] you are trying to [record] reality to bring awareness to [the issue]. The only way to do that is to remain neutral, to maintain credibility. You [can't be] pushing an agenda. Once you start pushing an agenda, people start resisting.

KAM: Hmm, the neutrality kind of bothered me. The film is definitely anti-Israeli, but it's not necessarily proPalestinian. And that's an interesting choice for the TPFF which is proPalestinian. In the interview with Bacha at the end, someone asked, “Why didn't you take a more pro-Palestine stance?” And...

IB: It's true, she completely evaded that question.

KAM: Although, maybe it's because she's using the documentary as a political tool.

IB: Yeah, that's what I think. And I think the reality speaks for itself. The reality and the facts are themselves proPalestinian. You shouldn't need to take a stance.

KAM: Yeah, I just feel that taking a strong stance is a necessary tool for making change.

IB: I do see that. It was a choice Bacha made as a Brazilian [film]maker. ---

Of the three Americans Bacha shadowed, Bahia Amawi had the most interesting story. Amawi is a PalestinianAmerican pediatric speech pathologist who filed a suit against the state of Texas. Amawi is doubly affected by the antiboycott law: as an American, it infringes on her right to consume freely, and as a Palestinian, it prevents her from fighting against the apartheid that oppresses her family. In court, however, Amawi chose to defend her rights as an American only, not as a Palestinian.

IB: [Just like] Bacha was neutral, Amawi herself was neutral. She was [just] trying to [make sure her constitutional rights] were being respected. [It was] not about moral judgments, just the law. This entire thing is not about Israel or Palestine for Amawi. It's about American rights and values.

KAM: She had to pick her battles, as a Muslim Palestinian-American woman in America. ---

Horrifyingly, Boycott reveals that the anti-boycott law is not an isolated piece of legislation. It is a template, and it’s currently being used to prevent other groups, like climate action movements and gun control organizations, from boycotting industries such as fossil fuel producers and the National Rifle Association (NRA).

Behind this model of duplicable, right-wing legislature is the American Legislative Exchange Council (ALEC), a yearly convention for Republican politicians, Christian evangelists, and other like-minded fellows. Anti-free speech legislation that gets developed at the conference is often implemented in state houses across the country.

IB: ALEC is very scary. It's a machine designed to make it easy to turn malicious, stupid ideas into laws. And one [politician] didn't even bother to read about the law before voting on it! That Democratic State Senator, [Greg Leding].

KAM: Oh yeah! Leding was like, yeah, in hindsight, I should have done more research on Israel and Palestine because I would have probably voted differently. That was crazy. ---

The film, however, did end on a relatively good note. (Spoiler Alert.) Amawi won her lawsuit in Texas and was able to go back to work. So did Jordahl, in Arizona. Unfortunately, Leveritt lost his case in Arkansas, but he remains confident as it is now being brought to the Supreme Court for reconsideration. However, a federal anti-boycott law has also been proposed and will be voted on in January of 2023.

KAM: That was the most heartbreaking part about the whole film. Amawi, Jordahl, and Leveritt fought so hard for such a tiny win.

IB: Miniscule.

KAM: Although they did something quite valuable. They made this antiboycott law a national issue. It's now in the news. And seeing as it is a template and there are plans to reproduce it, it's good that it's being brought to light. ---

Find Boycott screenings online at: https://justvision.org/boycott

PHOTO | TORONTO PALESTINE FILM FESTIVAL

Down the rabbit hole

ILLUSTRATION | SEAVEY VAN WALSUM

arts and culture team

A sonically disorienting wonderland of Alice-inspired tunes, old and new. Main Title (Alice in Wonderland) - The Jud Conlon Chorus White Rabbit - Jefferson Airplane Alice - Avril Lavigne Wonderland - Taylor Swift Painting Flowers - All Time Low Unbirthday Song - Camarata Chorus and Orchestra

Rabbit Heart (Raise It Up) - Florence and the Machine

A Wolf Who Wears Sheeps Clothes - Mac Demarco

Why are there so many big, white trucks?

A guide to UofT’s role in film, with a focus in and around Victoria College

ILLUSTRATION | SEAVEY VAN WALSUM

chloe bantle

CONTRIBUTOR

With the end of pandemic restrictions comes a resurrection of Toronto’s bustling city life, and with it, its surprisingly large film industry. For a variety of reasons—most of them boring, like affordability and tax incentives—the United States tends to outsource its productions up north, and Toronto is one of two major cities that movie makers have their eyes on. The other is Vancouver, nicknamed ‘Hollywood North,' a title that may soon pass to Toronto as its film industry continues to grow. On any given day, a walk through Toronto might take you past truckloads of film equipment or a film set in action. Or, if you’re a student who spends most of their time on campus like me, you might have noticed that the University of Toronto has no shortage of film sets either. Even our own Victoria College has played a role in several cool and popular productions. A quick search on IMDb for films shot at UofT pulls up a list of 147 titles across all three campuses. Among the top ten are Shape of Water, The Incredible Hulk, Mean Girls, and Shadowhunters, but that’s only a small fraction of what UofT has hosted. Exploring every one of these films would take a book, so I’d rather give you, dear reader, a tour of the sets located at our beloved Victoria College. Old Vic is the most popular building on our campus for filmmakers, particularly for more horroresque films. The main floor was used as an old-timey publishing house in Guillermo del Toro’s horror-fantasy Crimson Peak (2015), a movie starring Tom Hiddleston and Jessica Chastain. The exterior of Old Vic, set against an overcast sky, also served as an office building in Hannibal (2013), with a focus on what appears to be the principal’s office as the interior. On a less grim note, Old Vic stood in for Queen’s College in Charlottetown, PEI, in Anne of Green Gables (1985). Beautiful though it may be, Old Vic isn’t the only Victoria College building to star in film. The 1998 slasher Urban Legend used the outside of Northrop Frye Hall, with Old Vic serving as yet another university. This time, Victoria College stands in for Pendleton University, where the deaths of students parallel deaths of local legends. It’s not all that comforting to think about when you’re walking across campus at night, but when Vic checks boxes for both ‘gothic-looking’ and ‘haunted,’ it doesn’t come as a surprise that we attract movies like Urban Legend and Crimson Peak. Let’s just hope it never ends up being based on a true story. On a more cheerful note, the movie that makes the most use of Victoria College’s campus is Almost Adults (2016), an LGBT Canadian comedy starring two friends in their final year of college. The movie makes use of the exteriors of Old Vic, Northrop Frye, Emmanuel College, and E.J. Pratt. Almost Adults is a nice way to round out the list of films that take place at Vic, not only for its representation, but also for being a Canadian production rather than an outsourced Hollywood blockbuster. Recent projects in and around Victoria College are more up in the air. Last year, a film crew took over the entrance to Kelly Library and transformed it into a consulate for the United States. Since it was set up right across from the Victoria College campus, I often walked past this makeshift American consulate on my way to and from class. At first glance, the set appears to be for a TV show called Ruby Road. I didn’t think much of it until a few days later, when someone told me that Ruby Road is the codename for The Handmaid’s Tale. The giveaway lies in Toronto’s list of ongoing productions: Ruby Road’s production company is called Gilead 5 Productions Inc., Gilead being the name of the republic where The Handmaid’s Tale takes place.

Much more recently, trucks full of filming equipment lined both St Joseph Street and Charles Street, boxing in Victoria College and causing problems for anyone who drives. Among my friends, the theory was that they were filming season four of The Boys, which announced it had begun filming in August. One person thought they might still be filming The Handmaid’s Tale. The right answer? Your guess is as good as mine. Movie makers do love their secrets.

While UofT is a popular spot for filming, the actual UofT population remains in the dark regarding what or who is taking over our campus. If you’re like me, and you can’t wait for answers, your best bets are the City of Toronto’s official production list and the Twitter account called @TorontoFilming. If not, speculate away! Guessing what our campus will transform into makes for good fun.

Stories @ Vic: An interview with ‘Hey, Teach!’ Co-Editor in Chief, Imani King

Taking ‘A Piece of Vic’ in a new direction, and the joys of sharing art

miKaela moore, imani Kang

aSSOCIaTE aRTS aND CUlTURE EDITOR, CONTRIBUTOR

This month, I had the pleasure of interviewing Imani King, a fourth year English major. She has been an active member of the Vic community for four years through her contributions to the Victoria College based magazine Hey, Teach!. King states that Hey, Teach! is “the only UofT publication solely dedicated to the topic of Education." Here are some thoughts of hers on her time at Vic and with the magazine:

What positions have you held at Hey, Teach! throughout your volunteership?

Co-Editor in Chief in both my third and fourth years.

What's one of your favourite memories from your time volunteering?

Seeing the different magazine launches. Publishing our issues is always so satisfying! We also got a lot of readership online, especially with the Fall 2020 issue, "COVID-19: Now What?" as we saw that everyone had something to rightfully express.

What are you hoping to do after undergrad and what skills has volunteering with Hey, Teach! given you that will further your future endeavours?

students, which is what I've gotten to do in a unique way by going through so many submissions over the last few years for each issue. Our contributors always bring amazing perspectives and lived experiences [to their work], so continuously engaging with that further helps me understand [...] what students wish for and need.

How do you think the work you've done has benefitted your readership, community, and college?

Hey, Teach! is open to and made for the UofT community, so I think that the variety of contributors we have reached so far shows how we're all naturally involved in education.

A question for T.S. Eliot

ILLUSTRATION | JENNIFER AMOY FONG LI

KalliopÉ anvar mccall aSSOCIaTE OpINIONS EDITOR

Mr. Eliot, sir, you who taught me about men, and death, and growing old,

About cold comings, balding Magi, and trousers rolled,

Time has demanded of me to wonder, having lost the innocence of a kid,

Time I ask you, 'Why do dads die, like Dad's dad did?'

Mr. Eliot, sir, you who told me that even men reach a mortal end,

I must lament, this, I fail to comprehend,

And like J. Alfred Prufrock measured out his life in coffee spoons,

Must Dad too, with his dad now dead, sleep away the afternoons?

Mr. Eliot, sir, should I be glad of another death?

(Such a morbid statement seems a waste of breath).

I, ill at ease in the earthly dispensation of mankind, must confess,

Enough life to grieve another Dad, I fear I do not possess.

In the cycle the living come and go,

Dying like Michelangelo.

Mr. Eliot, sir, you who warned me that death is inescapable,

Time I ask of you now one small miracle,

The Intersection

ben murphy CONTRIBUTOR

It’s there,

Darting eyes. Perked ears. Right around the corner.

Scampering feet. Sweat is wiped from foreheads.

The drops of dew Are flicked from wrists And sizzle on the summer’s pavement.

Steps,

Don’t step on the crack. The scars of the sidewalk From winters past. Through beams of sunlight.

A flash. This tile is from ’67. Bob Marley stood there, So did Ronald Reagan.

Windshields blind the pedestrian, And shock the driver.

For a moment

The deer in headlights Is a person in glare.

An old woman, Dressed for snow, Has seen hotter days, But now only cares about getting to the other side Before the light changes.

It’s there, Nervous scuttles.

On the tip of each desert tongue.

A horn. A drill.

A bell. A cup of change.

A breeze of a bike and all is calm.

Then thrust back into action

As skin burns, An itch cruises down Spine St., Which is experiencing a flood of record levels;

Meteorologists expect for the perspiring precipitation to continue As long as The drought remains outside the white t-shirt.

It’s there,

At the front of the mind.

But unable to escape past the waiting wall Of heat that sears the soul Medium-well.

For God sakes, What was I going to say?

ILLUSTRATION | JENNIFER AMOY FONG LI