GTA

At or near the top of the headlines the last few days is the standoff between the President of the United States and the Republican led Congress. At stake, a compromise on budgets to raise the “debt ceiling” that caps the amount the United States government is permitted to borrow. While in part this is a Machiavellian game designed to win points for upcoming elections, the stated sticking point is the issue of revenue increases (a code word for taxes). In short, the Republicans insist that no revenue increases are permissible and only spending cuts can be used to reduce the budget deficit. The Democrats, led by President Obama, would like a compromise that allows a balance of spending cuts and revenue increases.

The election and subsequent tearing out of hair is over, and the Hockey Playoffs are in full swing. For Vancouver, this is an exciting time. With the Olympic experience still fresh, the Vancouver Canucks have reached the Stanley Cup Final. This is the nadir of Canadian spectator sport. As a long-suffering Toronto Maple Leafs fan, I can only imagine the excitement, both positive and nervous, in the city right now.

I have viewed professional sports through different lenses. As a child, I watched Hockey Night in Canada with my dad, and the old theme song (rights now lost by the CBC) is a like a comforting hymn. Later, with youthful idealism, I railed against the injustice of paying professional athletes millions of dollars, more than teachers, more even than doctors. The Toronto Blue Jays World Series’ cured me of that. Watching the drama and sharing in the collective joy made me think of sport as a type of improvisational theatre on a grand scale, and of elite athletes as rare practitioners of high art who are uniquely accountable for their performance. Now I reserve my remuneration-related scorn for CEO pay.

I can see what used to be Michael Ignatieff’s riding from my house. I live in what was Gerard Kennedy’s riding. On election night, Kennedy lost his seat. Ignatieff lost a great deal more.

When I queued to vote at the local public school, it all seemed so serene and almost pastoral. The ritual was not meaningfully different than would have taken place when the school was built (some time in the sixties if the yellow concrete block walls are any indication). Volunteers sat behind folding tables in the school gym. There were paper rolls and ballots and cardboard ballot boxes. There were stubby pencils. We lined up quietly, politely, and cast our votes. There was not a computer or TV or radio in sight. I’m sure we all had our cell phones, but none rang or chirped. The results of the election were not so serene.

In fact, there was an undertone of violence in the electoral results. The NDP surged, the Bloc imploded, votes were spit, and the Liberal party was largely destroyed. A lot of the damage was done here in the Greater Toronto Area.