The Devil is in the Details

In ­­­­­Mira Nair’s movie, Monsoon Wedding, the viewer is carefully guided in the hopes that they may be given some fleeting insight into Indian culture and in doing so left hopefully better such that, as they learn of others, they may learn too of themselves. Where on some notes the film strikes its mark and inferred intentions are realized, in a few other aspects it falls short and the viewer is left feeling that a greater potential exists than that which was reached.

As the story progresses, thematic elements and motifs become quickly apparent. We are left to follow a large Indian family where Aditi, a young bride-to-be, and her fiancé Hemant are in the days immediately preceding their arranged marriage. The father of the bride, Lalit, bears a great deal of mental and fiscal stress as he works with a dishevelled event organizer Parabatlal Kanhaiyalal 'P.K.' Dubey to assure the festivities go as planned. Meanwhile, a number of love interests (some more scandalous than others) kindle. Ideas of love: its inception and its management, in addition to those of Americanization, globalization and the domestic concerns of a rapidly budding economy give the story enough material beyond the romantic notions immediately assumed to keep most audiences interested. Here the film undoubtedly succeeds, inspiring critical thought and worthwhile discussion.

However, with the family of both bride and groom arriving from around the world, the scenes soon become awash of names and faces, the relationships between whom are often only briefly mentioned. Here develops what I found to be a significant issue in the film: the large number of individuals which are key to the understanding of the many subplots are introduced at a rate and in a manner that often leaves the viewer uncertain of their relations. This becomes troubling, as in order to understand—and thusly appreciate—the actions and motivations that exist within these subplots, one must take extreme care to mentally catalogue who each individual is and how this implicates their involvement. This is unfortunate, as the quality of the material that encompasses these subplots is sufficiently well written, something that may escape the audience if they are unsure of the predicate material.

Consequently, Monsoon Wedding is destined to be a movie confined to English classrooms and the shelves of those with greater than average patience. Whereas quality material exists within the script, and the acting is par, critical errors in presentation leave a movie that will likely get better with each viewing, but most will not bother to watch again.

We Do Not Live in Norway

Intelligence is not dependent on a university degree, nor is a university degree dependent on intelligence—but very nearly so.

There are innumerable routes in attaining success, many of which do not necessitate one ever stepping foot on a university campus or writing a midterm. Many of these routes, however, do not implicitly depend on what one might consider classical intelligence: the abilities to systematically retain information, to apply logic in the solving of problems, and to fluidly communicate these ideas through written word and other mediums. That is, one may succeed without possessing the fundamental characteristics that inspires third grade teachers to remark among themselves how successful little Johnny will be.

That being known, one must consider, if they do not possess such characteristics, if there is perhaps a means of reaching success better suited to them than university. What many seem not to realize is that the university cares no more that you cannot remember facts and figures to save your life than the Scantron machine cares when it reads an 8 out of 30 on your biology final. We have reached an age where it is now largely up to us to determine what is in our best interest and how we act upon it. Costs must be considered, and options carefully weighed. Taking the path—more or less traveled—will make all the difference.

At stake is so much more than success: we wager our youth, our happiness, our money—and that of others. We wager our future. Yet so many place a bet without considering their odds. When the cards come down some hands will pay, others will not and taxpayers will pay for them both. Every time an ill prepared student drops out of university, tens of thousands of dollars of taxpayer money has been wasted. The thousands of dollars per annum a student pays is but a fraction of the cost of their university education, the rest is quietly covered by money taken from all of us for the purpose of accomplishing something. If nothing is accomplished, money that could have been better allocated was placed on a resource that squandered it—if but only by means of ignorance.

We do not live in Norway. Our education system is not running on an open ended budget. Cuts are an everyday, everywhere reality. We cannot afford office phones. We most certainly cannot afford to fund the post-secondary dabbling of those for which post-secondary education may not be a rational option. That is reality, and to think otherwise is bordering on delusional.

The Needs of the Many

In our democratic nation we are blanketed under a great number of rights and freedoms, recorded in long words on expensive paper. This is our equality—for when all else is shaved away, who we were and who we may become, we all still rest under the same umbrella of ink signed into law in April of 1982. In theory, this should resolve any legal dispute, any governmental grievance, and any accusation of offence with perfect clarity and simple reason. But what of when our rights conflict with each other?

Today this is the case in Quebec, where the recent passing of Bill 94 has created significant rifts in the opinions of Canadians everywhere. The law, tabled and passed by Quebec’s provincial government, requires anyone wearing a face covering to remove it when doing business with government officials, attending a governmentally funded institution or working for the Quebec government. Predominantly affected are Muslim women who regularly wear a niqab: a full-body veil that leaves a slit only for one’s eyes. The bill cites security concerns and an impaired ability to communicate when executing governmental business as primary instigating factors.

It appears that in this case the Quebec government has arrived at a legal impasse. Boiled down, it comes to the needs of the many versus the needs of the few. Where all Canadians are guaranteed the right to security and safety of person—a right that is arguably compromised when government officials are not able to identify individuals as a result of their choice of attire—those same individuals who choose to wear a niqab on religious grounds are equally guaranteed the freedom of religious expression. But whose right is greater?

Ultimately that is for the local, provincial and, almost inevitably, supreme court to determine. We will soon see the complexities of a superficially very simple request, if not in the dimensions of their arguments undoubtedly in the hit to our tax dollars. If there is a certain to the days and months ahead, it is in that a number of lawyers will make a large sum of money and CBC will have a field day.

To address the issue at hand, that is, should Alberta adopt such a policy, I first considered the information above. The arguments in Alberta are much the same as they are in Quebec—for both sides of this touchy issue. In an ideal world—and this is not one—some terms of reasonable accommodation might be reached and all parties would be happy. But, knowing the challenges that a wide spectrum of opinions creates, many will inevitably be dissatisfied with the solution. In a democracy, those feelings of malcontent will come to light in human rights commissions, newspaper editorials and all manner of general complaining—all of which will cost money. For now at least, I would bid we pause and wait on the legal ruling that is bound to come out of Quebec. For the needs of the few are vocal and expensive, and the many need not pay for it now.