It took long enough. I was wondering when the Canadian media would finally cast its glance back ten years ago, to a time when our banks were pleading not penury but that they were too petite to compete with American and global rivals. It was merger mania: Royal Bank coupling with Bank of Montreal, TD conjoining with CIBC. It was, the banks maintained, the only way to survive and grow.

Jean Chrétien and his Liberal government put the kibosh on the deals, and now the master of the Shawinigan handshake can be found in today’s Globe and Mail, in an excellent article by Sinclair Stewart, crowing lightly about his foresight. He’s probably right to suggest that preventing the mergers helped insulate the Canadian banking industry from the current mess south of the border.

The new mega-banks would have promptly gone shopping for smaller U.S. banks and investment houses; as the article reports, “sources said that had RBC and BMO joined forces, one of their first targets would have been Wachovia Corp., the North Carolina bank that has been hobbled by soured mortgages”.

No doubt, if the mergers had been approved, there would have been a corresponding push for further deregulation here; and as the banks increased their penetration into U.S. markets, they would have gotten themselves even more perilously entrapped by the mortgage meltdown.

The article contains this priceless bit:

Charles Baillie, the former head of TD, believes that had the Canadian banks merged, they would have been able to resist the temptation of reckless lending that consumed Wall Street, and might be in a better position now to participate in an industry-wide buying frenzy.

… “If we had been allowed to merge, we might have thought that we were big characters and played more aggressively,” he said. “But I think it’s more likely we would have played by the same lending standards we have now.”

He’s alluding to the fact that Canadian banks are generally more cautious lenders, and therefore less likely to bundle up the loans and mortgages they hold into foolishly complicated securities packages for resale.

It’s hard to accept that the newly merged Canadian banks, eager to be key players in the big U.S. market, wouldn’t have undergone some kind of cultural transformation, making it more likely to would have followed their rivals into the same reckless practices.

Well, the Canadian banks have landed just fine without the mergers. Mid-carnage, they’re being recognized by investors as the most stable in the world, and you’ll find three of them have market valuations that put them among North America’s top ten.

One of the more annoying moments during the first U.S. presidential debate was when the subject of Russia and its recent skirmish with Georgia came up. Both McCain and Obama, without qualification, upbraided big bad Russia as the aggressor, saying NATO and the United States had to be ready to get tough. They allowed no nuance to shade their characterization of the conflict—such as maybe, just maybe, Georgian President Mikheil Saakashvili shouldn’t have invited the inevitable attack by a vastly more powerful foe by moving troops into an area that’s been functionally autonomous since 1992. Rather, they both gave the orthodox Washington view of events. So much for mavericky change we can believe in.

Russia’s intervention was hardly so noble as its own media played it, while the Georgian government is far from the blameless victim. And NATO just looks foolish, encouraging Saakashvili and the Georgians with thoughts of future membership, when it lacks both the political will and the military wherewithal to come to the country’s defence.

The current foray into Russia-bashing is laughable in light of this week’s news: soon American astronauts will need to bum a lift into space from… the Russians! NASA is scheduled to terminate the space shuttle program in 2010, but it will be at least another five years before the next generation of American spacecraft is ready. During that gap, NASA will be dependent on Russian Soyuz spacecraft if they want to get anyone to the International Space Station.

Actually, NASA won’t be bumming a ride. They will have to pay for a seat on Russian space flights, just like those crazy-rich astro-tourists do. From the New York Times:

The administrator of NASA, Michael D. Griffin, has called the situation “unseemly in the extreme.” In an e-mail message he sent to his top advisers in August, Dr. Griffin wrote that “events have unfolded in a way that makes it clear how unwise it was for the U.S. to adopt a policy of deliberate dependence on another power.”

Dr. Griffin is worried enough that he ordered his staff to explore flying the aging shuttles past 2010. He did so, he said in an interview last month, “about five minutes after the Russians invaded Georgia, because I could see this coming.” But he warned that any extension would be costly and could further delay NASA’s return to the Moon and threaten America’s role as the leading space power.

Oh Cosmonaut, can you spare a ride?

As my modest contribution to the forthcoming Canadian election, I present nine items that suggest Stephen Harper is not a friend to democracy.

Dion-Baiting
When Stéphane Dion questioned the effectiveness of our strategy in Afghanistan, the Prime Minister accused him of being “pro-Taliban.” Last week, Harper said Dion was actually wishing for a recession. It’s a habit of our Prime Minister to call anyone who doesn’t agree with him with a traitor. I’m waiting for him to suggest Dion is secretly a member of the pro-crack cocaine lobby.

There was a time when I thought Harper’s ways were merely politics-as-usual, and that, to afford him credit, he was a severely canny strategist. But somewhere along the way he turned from a policy wonk into a caudillo. The man doesn’t debate, reason or negotiate, he impels.

(Meanwhile, Harper has indicated that he intends to further loosen regulations governing foreign ownership of Canadian businesses—rules that are presently the most lax among advanced economies, and have already made Canada into the developed nation with the highest portion of its economy that is foreign-owned.)

The Media & The PMO
Upon becoming Prime Minister, Harper redrew the rules dictating how government interacts with the media. In an effort to exert “message control,” cabinet ministers were prevented from speaking to reporters, and all communications routed through the Prime Minister’s Office. Press conference protocol was upended to make it easier for the PMO’s communications czar to control who was asking what questions. Journalists generally complain of not getting calls returned and receiving information late. […more]

“He was a good man/And now he’s gone.” - M. Ward

There isn’t another American actor of his generation who was as successful, both artistically and commercially, as Paul Newman. Look at a list of his performances. Not many stinkers, and Newman somehow managed to stand out even in those that were, on the whole, less than good.

He was politically active and philanthropic in an era when it was hardly an astute career move to be so. (Newman campaigned for Eugene McCarthy to win the Democratic presidential nomination in 1968 and landed himself on Nixon’s list of enemies.) Unlike too many celebrities today, he demonstrated no interest in how his association with various causes reflected brightly back upon him. It was never a question of self-promotion or public righteousness. He was just going about his private life, making the choices that were important to him. Through his food condiment and sauce empire he helped raise $300 million for childrens’ charities.

Although Newman was consistently able to transcend his good looks, and play types across the spectrum, there was a particular persona he excelled at. Manohla Dargis, writing an appreciation in the New York Times, called it “the guy on the hustle who seems to have nothing much left but keeps his motor running, just in case.” Which seems like a profoundly American type of man, one that resonates with the often sad contradictions of its modern life.

At Friday’s U.S. presidential debate, Obama talked about restoring America’s reputation around the world, referring to a time when the idea (if not always the reality) of the country instilled hope and promise. In Paul Newman, the international movie star and the private man—self-effacing, intelligent, socially engaged, loyal—there was hardly a better projection of America abroad.

If you’re in Toronto and looking for something to do this evening (Sept. 23, 9 p.m.), you should mosey over to Lula Lounge (1585 Dundas St. W.)  in unassuming Portu-dale to check out my Istanbul pals Baba Zula.

I was fortunate to hook up with them by chance, as I spent far too many of my Istanbul nights at a boho little wine bar called Misket that’s owned by the wife of one of the band members—even washing the dishes when called upon. But the moment I heard Baba Zula’s music I was knocked out, and they were my introduction to the surprisingly eclectic and vibrant Istanbul scene. Faith Akin used the band to bookend his well-recieved documentary on Istanbul’s musical milieu, Crossing the Bridge.

Describing Baba Zula’s sound is always a challenge as they don’t really conform fully to any of the adjectives thrown their way; listing them off you just end up sounding like an indecisive and not particularly persuasive rock critic. But here goes: psych-rock, Turkish traditional, livetronica, experimental, Anatolian reggae. They describe themselves as “Oriental dub” which is simple and clear enough.

Baba Zula live shows are something special, as a performative, theatrical dimension has always been a key part of how they envision their music. At Lula, they’ll be accompanied by a computer artist who improvises along with the band, her creations projected on screen behind them, and, yes, a Japanese belly dancer.  The Toronto gig will be special for another reason, as one of their most frequent collaborators, Brenna McCrimmon, lives here and will join them on stage. Brenna’s an interesting singer-musician in her own right; a student of Balkan and Turkish musics, she spent more than five years living in Istanbul, performing with Baba Zula and other local stalwarts like Roma clarinetist Selim Sesler.

I don’t know how indicative the video above really is. It’s a little weird: them playing-not-actually-playing for a promo performance on Turkish CNN, with the belly dancer in full effect. The camera work is hilarious, especially with all the rapid zoom ins & outs on the dancer’s gyrating hips. Like a cartoon character’s eyes gone all a-buggy.

In a recognition of summer’s close I offer up this nostalgic glimpse into my wild & untamed youth, much of which was spent annually working at the Canadian National Exhibition.

That is me above, at 15 years, playing the Campbell’s Soup Girl. In the summer of 1985 I worked in the Food Building at the CNE, doling out complimentary styrofoam tubs of chunky soup for my corporate masters. Then, at 4pm each day of the Ex, there was a parade through the grounds: marching bands, costumed characters, and friendly corporate mascots.

For some reason I volunteered for this, as Campbell’s always had a car in the parade. At first it just seemed like a good chance to escape the hungry hordes at the Food Building, all sugar’d up on Tiny Tim Donuts and hunting madly for free samples. There were outfits for both a boy and girl. I always ended up as the girl, but didn’t really mind. I guess I was the only one who did it willingly; which meant the only way the other guys would even do the parade was if they didn’t have to be the girl.

I quickly learned the benefits of my costume. The parade began everyday outside the Carlsberg Pavilion, which contained a beer garden. On my very first day as the Campbell’s Soup Girl, I figured my get-up might actually win my very underage self a place at the bar. It worked. With my big plastic & plaster headgear on, skirt and knee-high socks, I waltzed right past the garden’s sentries, who laughed & guffawed, then took a seat. I ordered a beer, got served, & took my head off. Everyone still laughed. After this I was a regular and the parade became my routine.

The downside came on sweltering days, after cascading two or three beers quickly down my gullet, the costume would get very hot. During the parade I sat up atop the backseats of the convertible and waved to the crowd. This could be dizzying. I almost fell out of the car a few times.

But I was a diligent worker. After the parade I had another job. I manned a stall for the Ontario Bean Producers’ Board in the mezzanine of the Coliseum. The most boring job ever. I just sat there. They wouldn’t allow me to read a book. Occasionally, an old lady would stop to enter the contest we were offering: the winner, by raffle, won a Bean Cookbook. I called it the Fart Manual. Whatever tipsyness I still felt luckily got me through.

While in Ghana this summer, I spent a couple days reconnoitering a remarkable neighborhood of Kumasi called Magazine. It’s a district of the city given over entirely to car mechanics and their parts suppliers. I haven’t found an official tally but I was given estimates of between 10,000-15,000 people working in the area, which is far better organized, and less chaotic, than it first appears. [I’ve just posted a photo essay on Magazine, here].

Enterprising brokers bring in wrecks and write-offs from all over the world (often taking the vehicles off the hands of insurance companies who recoup a few more bucks than if they’d sold them for scrap), and the mechanics of Magazine make them road-worthy once again. Stripping them down and starting all over again, recycling or repairing every stray part or component that can be salvaged.

The entire global auto industry flows through Magazine—from Indian Tatas and Korean Hyundais to Italian Fiats and German Volkswagens. One broker said it usually takes no more than six months for the latest model of any vehicle to find its way to Magazine. As long as it takes, basically, for one of them to wind up in an accident.

And here you will find every variety of vehicle, from the familiar Bluebird school buses and flatbed trucks to luxury sedans, long-haul rigs and mini-vans.

The cars rebuilt here wind up all over Africa, and it’s probably the largest assemblage of its kind on the continent. Many of Magazine’s “new” cars are Frankenstein contraptions, sometimes obviously so but often not, bearing parts of divergent provenance. That may look like a brand new Mercedes but who knows where every part inside came from?

There’s a long history behind the neighborhood. As Kumasi was the seat of the Ashanti kingdom, the city was divided into sectors according to skilled trades. Magazine was home to the blacksmiths and weapons-makers. And still today, it’s a poorly kept rumour that Magazine is where one goes to acquire a gun.

I’ll post more on Magazine soon, but I will say that many of the mechanics here have managed to make a very decent living for themselves. Several older gents I spoke with managed to put their kids through university, and buy shops to give their wives something to do. It’s a largely improvised, self-regulating neighborhood that demands further study, especially when we talk about local models of development that can work for Africa.

My feature on Turkey’s recent turmoil appears in the current issue of The Walrus. You can read the entire text online here. Also check out Carolyn Drake’s accompanying photo essay on Hasankeyf, an historic, predominantly Kurdish town in Turkey’s southeast potentially living out its last days. The entire area is slated to be flooded when a dam on the Tigris River finally gets a green light. It’s possible, but not likely, Hasankeyf will be spared; foreign credit agencies who previously pledged monies for the dam are now reconsidering in light of growing resistance and protest in Europe. (That’s Carolyn’s image above.)

I also have a brief piece in Azure magazine, about Vladimir Arkhipov’s “Archive of material folklore”. This from my most recent trip to Russia. More about Vladimir another time.

Currently in Ghana, doing more research for the book and working at some magazine articles, mostly to do with food security and chieftaincy issues. Meanwhile, attending to final details on a Turkey feature I have upcoming in next issue of The Walrus.

The piece is based on research done last October and November, and then more follow up from afar. On the one hand I’m happy the article is coming out now, as the Western media has finally turned its attention to events in Turkey, although little of the coverage provides much context—a breach hopefully my article can fill. Things have been happening so fast & furious there of late, however, that developments I could only hint at in the article could be fait accompli by the time the article hits newsstands.

Legal proceedings to disband the ruling Justice and Development Party (AKP) are now underway, based on the dubious assertion that the party has been trying to institute sharia law by stealth. (The AKP took 47% of the popular vote in last year’s elections.) Meanwhile, a police investigation into a secular-nationalist “deep-state” network called Ergenekon has netted dozens of high profile suspects—including politicians, retired generals, journalists and university rectors. It is alleged that Ergenekon is responsible for several unsolved politically-motivated murders and plotting a coup for 2009.

Then Sunday, the day before the court began formally hearing the AKP case, two bombs exploded in the Güngören neighborhood of Istanbul, killing 17 and wounding more than a hundred. Istanbul’s governor has already suggested the PKK may be responsible, putting the Kurdish fighters firmly back at centre stage in the national soap opera, alongside the AKP (aka the Islamists) and the Kemalists (aka the secular-nationalists).

I find it very hard to fathom, however, that the PKK is behind the bombing. At this moment in time, with the court action and Ergenekon investigation, it doesn’t make any sense. There’s absolutely nothing for the PKK to gain from it, although the most common theory being reported is that the bombings were in reply to another air raid by Turkish forces on PKK positions in northern Iraq. Even if the motive was to further destabilize the Turkish state—the PKK need not have bothered as the bitter struggle between the AKP and the Kemalists was achieving that well enough on it’s own.

I’ve never felt so vulnerable to entertaining wild, crack-pot conspiracy theories as I have since wading into the murk of Turkish politics. Sure, the PKK could be responsible (although they’ve denied it so far, and typically they take credit for these kinds of things). But I find it equally plausible that some rogue faction of the secular-nationalists engineered this as a kind of black ops to push the nation ever further toward crisis, thus putting the military command back in the driver’s seat. Yes, it sounds whack. But it wouldn’t be the first time individuals connected to the security forces have killed Turkish civilians, making it look like the Kurds did it.

And here I’ll inch further along my lonely branch of this wingnut tree: the bombings could mark the return of Kurdish Hezbollah (no relation to the Lebanese version). The Islamist militants, enemies of the Marxist-inclined PKK, have been in the past proven useful to the Turkish military, as both a fellow combatant against the Kurdish separatists, and a convenient instrument for further muddying the country’s sectarian waters. After secretly upplying arms to Hezbollah in the early 1990s, the government cracked down on the militants in 1998 when they expanded their targets beyond the PKK. In 2001, Hezbollah assassinated the police chief of Diyarbakir; two years later, the organization claimed responsibility for bombings at two Istanbul synagogues.

The official line is that the organization is inactive. With a little help, however, it could surely mobilize again, especially given some incentive. Such as the government’s success brokering talks between Israel and Syria, and more recently the U.S. and Iran. Despite being an Islam-inspired political party, the AKP in government is perhaps not Islamic enough for Hezbollah’s liking.

The point in the end is to ask who has motive and who stands to benefit from the bombings. My gut says a renewed Kurdish Hezbollah assisted by elements of the military.

In parting, here are two Turkey-related stories that should be taken as further signs of the times. First, evidence that you can’t criticize the Turkish military for anything—even if you’re a superstar transsexual pop singer. And second, as though to illustrate one of the observations in my Walrus article, that Atatürk’s remains the last personality cult of the 20th century to still play a defining role in his nation’s affairs, there’s something strange happening in a town called Damal.

Presently in the preparatory stages of a research trip to China—journalist visa approved!—but I’m beginning to have second thoughts whether I should even bother. I can’t remember in my lifetime (post 1970, eh?) a country this wall-to-wall covered by Western media.

When has a single nation ever generated this scale of fascination and fear in the west? The USSR may have focused the anxieties of the west, but it wasn’t complimented by the sort of mass curiosity with which China is now treated. There wasn’t the same measure of media penetration and ubiquity then to make it possible. The China stuff now is kind of crazy obsessive-compulsive.

The closest comparison I can come up with is Japan—in the late 80s and early 90s Japan’s rising economic might stirred likewise fears in the West, while at the same time inviting all sorts of often daft pop anthropological probing. Then, as is the case with China now, it was predicted Japan would soon boast the largest economy in the world. Which isn’t to say China won’t soon possess the largest economy sometime around 2020-2025 as is usually predicted; I’m just not convinced it is the sure bet, or that it will happen as easily as it’s being prophesied.

As for the protests shadowing the Olympic flame, there’s something in their surprisingly violent tenor that suggests to me they’re about far more than just Tibet (leaving aside the demonstrators who are actually members of the Tibetan diaspora or directly connected to it). Where were all these people before? I can’t find any evidence to suggest the pro-Tibet movement was this large outside the exile community, even latently so? While Beijing’s hosting of the Olympics provides a convenient platform on which to raise the stakes, the shrill, simple-mindedness of the torch tantrums implies that they are not so much pro-Tibet, as anti-China.

There’s a familiar whiff of the more familiar anti-Americanism here: some ill-formed expression of emerging anxieties over China’s sudden relevance and power in world affairs. Which is not to say that the demonstrations are implicitly racist or illegitimate or a waste of time—China invited this scrutiny by turning the flame relay into the sort of propagandistic spectacle not seen since the 1936 Olympics in Berlin (the Nazis actually contrived this whole notion of a sacred flame being carried out of the ruins of ancient Greece… by fit and wholesome Aryans).

Having thus complained about the media saturation, I do have a few favourite bits on China. There’s this, from Jonathan Franzen in last week’s New Yorker (I can’t find the piece itself online, but here’s an audio companion):

“The week before, when I’d arrived in Shanghai, my first impression of China had been that it was one of the most advanced places I’d ever seen. The scale of Shanghai, which from the sky had presented a dead-flat vista of tens of thousands of neatly arrayed oblong houses—each of which, a closer look revealed, was in fact a large apartment block—and then, on the ground, the brutally new skyscrapers and the pedestrian-hostile streets and the artificial dusk of the smoke-filled winter sky: it was all thrilling. It was as if the gods of world history had asked, ‘Does somebody want to get into some really unprecedentedly deep shit?’ and this place had raised its hands and said ‘Yeah!’”

The Globe and Mail’s European correspondent Doug Saunders had a thoughtful piece last Saturday regarding his sudden, and it turns out, unwarranted media fame in China. He goes digging into the nuances of the ethnic Han nationalism being witnessed both within China, and outside among the diaspora, in reaction to the flame protests. I don’t know it’s entirely accurate to say, however, that the party leadership is now more nationalist than communist, as Saunders does. That would suggest that Beijing’s mindset is primarily a pragmatic one—using the uproar to tap into a well of ethnic pride and bolster its legitimacy. I think the leadership in China still has some very set ideas about how the country should be governed. This is merely a moment of opportunism, another tide Beijing seems able to channel and turn on/off at will, as it does whenever it has cause for anti-Japanese sentiment to spike.

National Geographic couldn’t help itself. The current issue is all China. I just bought it and can’t say much other than that there are lots of nice pretty (but smog-choked) pictures and the sort of breathless, banal and unoffensive prose NatGeo typically traffics in.

If you want a more unbridled, and let’s say offensive, opinion on China, take a dose of William Langewiesche in the April Vanity Fair. I’m a fan of Langewiesche’s magazine articles (”City of Fear” on Brazil’s prisons, VF) and books (The Atomic Bazaar, Sahara Unveiled), but I can’t recall him ever being as downright nasty and funny as he is in “Beijing’s Olympic Makeover”. I thought for a moment that I’d misread the byline, and it was actually from the opium-dipped pen of VF contributor Nick Tosches.

[Picture beneath the head: a portrait of Huang Qihou in front of one of his paintings; photo by Beijing artist Xing Danwen.]