Anakana Schofield

While we’ve been consumed with our own riot situation last week, I’ve been watching this story unroll in China the last few days: with nothing like the media attention.

The three days of violence flared in the town Xintang – a centre for garment factories – after reports circulated that a pregnant street vendor had been pushed to the ground by municipal police, sending more than 1,000 workers onto the streets.

It should be noted that Xintang is a “centre for garmet factories” and could very well be a place where the hockey shirts are manufactured.

The article mentions the requistion of land, low-level compensation, corruption, and the all round oppression of workers. It also alludes to other recent strikes.

I went to visit some of the hoarding that covered the windows broken during the riot and is covered in apparent messages of support for the city or messages of thanks and outpourings, I found reading some of it as terrifying as the riot. There is also some kind of flag project happening. The ending is firmly being scribed and hoisted on this episode without there being any real interrogation about it. We have had only gasp horror, deflection, and we’re onto the reconciliation stations.

A man passed while I was reading the words (very repetitive) and shouted out The Bay won, The Bay won. It was the most pertinent statement I read. Another collective identity has already been dreamed up by the marketing men before we’ve dealt with the ramifications of the last half hatched one that actually  in part gave rise to these riots. This time it’s Van Love and we’re encouraged to hang it in our windows. But heads in the flagged sentiment of it shouldn’t have happened rather than why or what might have contributed to it happening .. onward we traipse.

Down the road the postal workers had an active picket line that was not crowded with people taking pictures of themselves beside scribblings. Given the state of organized labour and the attempts to undermine it, a picture of a picket line might actually prove a more pertinent historical recording.

Vancouver has managed to turn a riot into a tourist attraction within a few days.

Foodie uproar

This is an interesting story about Borough Market. I am nearly sure I used to live right beside this market. It was a very ordinary orange and apples in brown bags type market, so I barely recognize this foodie controversy it morphed into. Mind you it was 19 years ago.

“London’s ‘foodie heaven’ and symbol of culinary revolution has been engulfed by row over commercialism and quality”

And why are we looking first for the romanticism in that single image, rather than excavating or first considering the violence in it?

Not only are we after the single heros/heroines, after the single match, we have now fixated — globally — on a single image from Weds nights events (which did/do not begin and end on Weds night!) Singularity does not equal any kind of reasoned interrogation. It’s complex! Why are we settling for such clipped, bullet point explanations?! The neat summary. One match, one image.

The commentary around Weds night’s hockey riot is noticeable for how weak it is.  Not exactly breaking out the old brain cells nor searching the vast corners of the attic…  There was a piece in today’s Globe that was so pointless the writer must have written while his washing was on the spin cycle. He referred, in a throw away half (witted) sentence to the “labour battles of the 1930’s” and attempted to cook up some bonko explanation on Vancouver’s pre-disposition to riot antics while having no insight or discernible knowledge of the city’s history. (quick smash and grab on a wiki link or two).  If he intends to reference the 1930’s and he might do well to note that the relief camp system was invented by the Federal Govt!

A friend today described what took place (before and during riot) as a silly performance of identity.  I think I’d actually term it more of a misguided clog dance of identity. Listening to the police spokesperson (redolent of the hockey tunnel interviews)  drone out cliches the other night, in the car, a friend who was riding with me called from the back that many intelligent people did not experience the play offs as a “great run” and could tell something like this wanton madness was brewing.

The language was a key indicator. Hockey language is incredibly vacuous. A half dozen vacuous men speaking in vacuous language on locker room analysis. To be honest no wonder the language then became peppered with tones that one hears in the average fly -on-the-wall documentary about going to war and how to psych up with your rock eared battalion about the enemy.  I was particularly struck noticing people I know to be reasonably intelligent, normally lucid individuals chiming out the kinds of mumbo-jumbo you might record in a screening interview with some-one in an active state of delusion on the PAC ward at Vancouver General Hospital.

Every time I hear this battle cry of World Class City  — I wonder why this hasn’t made it into the commentary, why amidst the chronic feeding of mindless boosterism & blithe acceptance of what we’re fed about where we live   should anyone be surprised to see the equally mindless participation and blithe  feeding frenzy on the violence on Weds. There are bigger questions to be interrogated around participation. What is the unfed urge to participate? What was this dependence on a single outcome, the entitlement to that outcome, the lack of consideration for any other outcome, the demand for it. (and when demand not met in a timely manner, refund?!)

We’re also looking for these single individuals, we want to unite with those who stood up and yelled and waved their arms, urged people to stop. We want to unite with them now, but while they were standing there yelling (solo it seems almost always from the footage) why didn’t the swarms of others join them? Why didn’t three other people join them? And why did those swarms only join when some lug-head then proceeded to push them to the ground, why’d the swarm join in when it came to kicking them in the kidneys and back of the head?

To some degree enforced participation began with the 2010 Olympics. Those who stood aside and questioned and didn’t don the red mittens were eyed suspiciously as kill joys. National Pride took over. A swarm ensued. See how the language comes back to itself. We were desperate, we are desperate and we’ll remain desperate until we actually examine those appetites and how they’re fed. Yet the biggest examination seems to revolve only around “brand repair” and explaining or tagging activities with neat slogans.

Everything about the hockey in latter weeks has expressed some urge for “participation”. As I ponder Weds nights events, beyond the mind-blowing matter of doing an event called Rereading the Riot Act during it, that explored another reading of the Riot Act in the city’s history in 1935 (hunger rather than privilege) — I return to this question of whether this hole, that clearly exists, into which people want to pour their participation does not point up the lack of funding by the Province into arts & culture.

Is this what you get when you do not fund the arts? Are people’s identities so bound up in this singularity of entitlement to “an event”, this event, this match, right now, our time, our turn.

In the last two weeks I could feel something brewing. Language changed, people sounded like we were in a war situation (us/them), all day Wednesday I had a terrible sense of foreboding that I could not place. It hit me in the community garden that morning early in the day when an incident took place on the road with a man who leapt out of a car. And since then I keep thinking about identity, the clutching at it and the hunger for participation. (in something).

Rereading the Riot Act June 15, 2011

“Her Majesty the Queen charges and commands all persons being assembled immediately to disperse and peaceably to depart to their habitations or to their lawful business on the pain of being guilty of an offence for which, on conviction, they may be sentenced to imprisonment for life.”

Rereading the Riot Act. June 15, 2011 literally.

You couldn’t make it up.

There’s admirable public effusiveness and then there’s the plain old moron alert.

We are into a weather system today that contains a great deal of the latter based on what I just witnessed.

I cannot wait for this to end.

It’s like a very part time, elongated, go-slow appendectomy.

In 1935 the weather forecast was given a regal column and divided into three parts. (Or it sat above these other two sections this scan is v hard to read)

Weather

Coastwise Movements

The Tides (including graphics that epxlained the moon?)

It was a 36 hour forecast that was given including barometric pressure predictions. On this particular Monday in April maybe the 27th date is missing)  Vancouver and vincinity — Strong winds or gales, mostly East with South, mild with rain.

The weather forecast also included a section entitled Synopsis. Tomorrow I will share the synopsis with you.

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