Loading...
The Citizen, 2018-05-03, Page 5THE CITIZEN, THURSDAY, MAY 3, 2018. PAGE 5. Other Views Our greatest danger is in our heads Human beings have made incredible progress in conquering so many of the threats to their existence. As last week's van attack in Toronto shows once again, however, we haven't made nearly enough progress in combating one of our greatest continuing dangers: man's violence against man. Until recent generations, the greatest danger to the lives of people came from diseases, hunger or dealing with the elements. Human ingenuity has been put to work to solve many of those problems. Yes, most people still die from some sort of breakdown of the human body, but on average we die at a much older age than ever before. The creation of vaccines and antibiotics have made extinct or controllable many diseases that terrorized the population a century ago. Going even farther back, humans worried if they would survive harsh elements or would find enough food to eat. Today, those of us in the western countries live in more comfort than the kings and queens of 500 years ago. As for food, for many of us the greatest danger comes from eating too much food, not starving. With so many threats to our existence neutralized, the toll of human -on -human violence rises higher on the scale of the cause of death. Alek Minassian, the driver of the van that drove down a northern Toronto sidewalk last week, killing 10 and injuring 16, was a damaged, frustrated man who sought to exorcise his pain by striking out blindly at innocent people walking down the street. He also, apparently, wanted his own hurt to be ended by having police shoot him for what he did. Like many of the men who have carried out mass shootings in the U.S. he was a messed up individual who, rather than just kill himself, Keith Roulston From the cluttered desk sought to go out in a blaze of glory. Minassian proved that even when a country has relatively strong gun laws, a determined killer can find a weapon. In this case he copied what has become a weapon of choice for terrorists in Europe who've come under the influence of Islamic extremist groups like ISIS. Many of these perpetrators are damaged individuals, themselves, who are willing to give their lives for what they've been told is the work of God. For all our progress with physical healing, we've been spectacularly unsuccessful in healing the problems people have inside their heads. Minassian had come into contact with many agencies from schools and colleges to the Canadian Armed Forces, but no one could apparently spot the danger in him, let alone treat it. Human ingenuity hasn't been able to solve the problems of mental distress. But tragic as these incidents are, sick individuals like mass killers cause only a tiny fraction of the suffering from violence by men against men. The death toll of the civil war in Syria alone is estimated at over 500,000 people. In Bangladesh, nearly 750,000 Rohingya refugees driven from their homes in neighbouring Myanmar, are living in desperate conditions under which many are bound to die. We don't class Syrian dictator Bashar Hafez al -Assad in the same category as the mentally unstable men who go on shooting rampages or drive vans into pedestrians. The leaders of the Myanmar army who drove the Rohingya out of their country and burned their villages also wouldn't be diagnosed as mentally ill. Worse, they convince themselves there are rational reasons for carrying out the atrocities they have. This year we'll mark the 100th anniversary of the end of World War I when 18 million people died because state leaders, who would have thought themselves intelligent — even wise — thought it made sense to go to war. We didn't learn from this mind-boggling tragedy and 21 years later there was a Second World War with a death toll estimated to be at least 50 million. Today we have bellicose, ambitious, immoral leaders in more powerful countries than at any time in recent memory. Given the inevitable clash of these mammoth egos, tragic consequences seem inevitable. Our great advances in so many areas have failed to solve either the mental health issues of many in our society, or the moral health issues of too many powerful leaders. Instead, our technological advances have put more power in their hands, whether it be the guns and vans for the mass killers, or the modern killing machines at the disposal of leaders with too much power and not enough conscience. Can human ingenuity solve the problems caused by dangerous human thinking? Certainly we don't want some sort of mind control that makes everyone think the "proper" way. Still, hopefully, whether through advances in mental health healing for individuals or international law enforcement for rogue leaders, we can score more of the kind of successes we've had in other areas of human betterment. Hanging up the whistle (again) Alittle while back I wrote a column about how I was hanging up the whistle and retiring from refereeing and I'm happy to say that it only took a couple years for that process to happen. While I did retire from refereeing minor soccer (a move that I'm sure brought a great many sighs of relief from some coaches in the area) I didn't fully retire from refereeing in general, continuing on as a referee for some leagues with older players. This year, however, is the first time in 18 years (I did the math) that I won't pick up a whistle at all. Instead, I've bought some shiny new cleats and other equipment and I'll be returning to where I was when I left the field for the last time: playing netminder. I've joined up with a fun team of players from another centre and, as of writing this, had our first practice. To say I was rusty would be doing rust a disservice, but, by the end of the practice, I'd got my second (or maybe third or fourth wind) and wasn't huffing and puffing while standing still. There's just something about competitive sports that, no matter how long I've been away from them, I always seem to feel infinitely better after playing them. Sure, the physical fitness and, in soccer's case, the fresh air likely has a lot to do with it, but I think there's more to it than that. As a journalist, beyond the perennial goals of doing our best and winning an award or two and hitting deadline every week, there are very few opportunities for the entire newsroom to be behind the same goal. Shawn tackles Huron East and Central Huron, I have my councils and we proof each other's work, but everything is very segregated. Contrast it with a contractor rebuilding a bathroom and there are very few moments we can look back at a project and actually Denny Scott Denny's Den consider it complete and off our radar (because, in all honesty, we sometimes are already planning next year's iteration of the same project as soon as we finish this year's). Last year's International Plowing Match special is a good exception to the rule to prove my point: for a full nine months we lived and breathed the IPM with specials every other week and a large special edition just prior to the event. We got to look back on all that with a sense of accomplishment. On a weekly basis, however, there are no project endings for us. No final check, just this week's paper is done, let's get ready for next week's. Anyway, back to sports: having someone to play against, a competitor, and having a definitive end to a game and a season has that kind of closure that, professionally, is harder to measure in the news industry. On a side note, that's probably why I enjoy woodworking and minor home renovations so much. Hanging a functional gate or crafting a cell phone cradle has a finish date. There's a point where, no matter how much fiddling you do, the project will either work or not work as intended. So, once again, back to sports. Being able to set aside a time in my week to lace up the cleats, pull on the netminder gloves and wear some protective equipment and forget everything else for a few hours is probably a good thing for me physically, as well as mentally. The physical benefits of being out in the fresh air and being mobile are pretty easy to see (though one could argue falling, rolling and getting pelted with leather-ish soccer balls might not be that great) but the mental part is what I'm espousing here: the chance to forget about other things and focus the singular goal of helping your team win. There is a pure, unadulterated sense of accomplishment when 11 to 25 players all work towards the same goal, whether succeeding or not. It's a kind of rush that just doesn't happen when you're out running or walking because it's just you against the pavement. There is something about being a part of something bigger than yourself, not big enough that you're just another cog, but big enough that there's an apparent sense of teamwork. Fortunately for me, the team I've joined is one I've had a bit of experience with over the years and one that always seems to be having fun, win, lose or draw. That's good because, having not played in 18 years, it will hopefully mean they won't be expecting too much of me (or judging when I even fall short of that). Whether we're holding a trophy up after our last game of the season or just a refreshing beverage, I'm betting the season will be a fun one and a good way for me to recapture some of that grit and glory of my youth. Here's hoping that winter is just as successful and I can strike gold twice in one year and find a hockey team to lace up the skates with as well. As my wife will attest to, I have an entire bag of hockey equipment taking up space in our storage room waiting to be broken out again at a moment's notice. Shawn Loughlin Shawn's Sense Finding a purpose On Friday morning, a 35 -year-old man from Canmore, Alberta died after a nine-month battle with colorectal cancer. Ryan Correy, adventure cyclist, author and public speaker, was one of the healthiest people you could meet and he is now gone. Correy wrote the book A Purpose Ridden, which was published back in 2015. He admitted to being no author, but rather a cyclist who began writing about his journeys. In the book, Ryan writes about his relationship with his father, among other things. He wrote about being 13 years old in 1996 and embarking on a 3,400 -kilometre bicycle tour across Canada with his father. After that ride, he would face a number of different cycling challenges. He took on the Race Across America (which has been dubbed the toughest sporting event in the world), he travelled the Pan American Highway (which has been called the longest road in the world) and he completed the Tour Divide (which is the longest mountain bike race in the world). I immediately connected with Ryan's book. It found its way to me at a time when I was just getting into cycling and I found that many of his musings and observations were mirroring my own at the time. Not only did Ryan's obsession with cycling speak to me, but I also related to his honest and raw writing about his relationship with his father, which was rather complicated at times. After reading Ryan's book, I reached out to him. He was taking his book on the road, signing copies and hosting readings. I e- mailed him, however, after I noticed that he was skipping a huge swath of southwestern Ontario before his way out west. He got back to me and explained the nature of his trip. He and his fiancee Sarah (they would be married the following year) were travelling across the country working for a nutrition company. He was squeezing appearances in where he could, often combined with talks about his company's products He didn't have a planned stop in the area, but if I could make it to London, he said, he'd love to meet up. And so we did. He and Sarah carved out some time in their busy schedule for me. We arranged it by e-mail, but he gave me his cell number in case anything changed. We sat in a Starbucks and chatted for about an hour. They told me about their upcoming wedding and Ryan spoke about trying to convince Sarah to ride the Tour Divide (a mountainous ride from Canada's rocky mountains to the Mexican Plateau) on a tandem bike for their honeymoon. He signed a book for me and for Jess. He encouraged me to marry Jess (he wrote so much in his inscription to her) and suggested that I too honeymoon on a tandem bike along the Tour Divide. It warmed my heart that he would make time to meet one reader and spend that kind of time with me. But he just seemed to be a genuinely kind person, who would do that kind of thing for someone who connected with his work. When Ryan found out he was sick, he was determined to beat it. He felt as though, just like any of his past cycling challenges, if he worked hard enough and remained determined that he would accomplish his goals. He was brutally honest about his journey. He shared with his followers not just when things were good, but also when they were difficult. I e-mailed him during this time and told him I was thinking about him. He remembered me and congratulated me on marrying Jess. Ryan passed away just after 9 a.m. on Friday morning. He was surrounded by family at his home. He was 35 years old.