Winnipeg Free Press

Winnipeg Free Press (Newspaper) - April 30, 2020, Winnipeg, Manitoba C M Y K PAGE A7 THINK TANK PERSPECTIVES EDITOR: BRAD OSWALD 204-697-7269 ? BRAD.OSWALD@FREEPRESS.MB.CA ? WINNIPEGFREEPRESS.COM A7 THURSDAY APRIL 30, 2020 Ideas, Issues, Insights JAMIE LEE FINCH / COLUMBIA DAILY TRIBUNE / TNS People gather on Zoom, a video-conferencing app whose popularity has increased exponentially during the pandemic. COVID-19 puts 'social' into social media T HE platforming of our lives on social media apps - including Facebook, Instagram and Twitter - is usually met with criticism. Interactive technologies, such as video games and social media, we're told, make us anti-social. Now, as a result of social-distancing efforts in response to the coronavirus pandemic, online social net- works and video conferencing platforms such as Zoom are redefining what it means to be social through our technologies. In a less-than-ideal situation, the Zoom con- ferencing platform has become central to many people's everyday life during the crisis. Quaran- tining has forced us to move our social gatherings online; hangouts with friends and family have, for the past six weeks, become virtually possible thanks to new media. My family, like many oth- ers, participated in a Zoom Passover seder this year. Video-sharing apps like TikTok also help us to relieve boredom. The platform's dance challenges and lip-syncing memes provide a sense of fun and comic relief. Social media networks and confer- encing platforms may be compensating for the loss of social life in a moment of crisis, but per- haps we are getting more than we bargained for. Working from home, and homing while at work, has become part of the routine for many white-collar workers: work life and family life are blending into one. A couple of weeks ago, my five-year-old son wandered into my home office during a Zoom meeting. This embarrassing scenario is some- thing now familiar to many of us working remotely via Zoom or other video conference plat- forms. An hour later, both of my children logged onto Zoom meetings of their own for a session of remote schooling. Work-life balance was hard enough before the crisis. Now, social media is blending private life and work. For parents and caregivers, the exten- sion of the office into personal space can be an added cause of stress. With no separation, we are forced to do it all at once. The double duties of care and work, what feminists refer to as the "double shift," isn't new. But bringing the office space into the home while managing care and the health crisis can be daunt- ing. Zoom may enable work life during the crisis. But is this really the best way to use our social technologies and media? Maybe this situation gives us an opportunity to see the problems of our culture differently through the prism of social technology. Social isolation may have changed the way we interact online, but apprehensions about social media and other cloud-based social interaction technologies and platforms are justified. Not only do we fear the anti-social effects of social media, many of us are also worried about online surveil- lance, manipulation and trolling. Zoom, too, is not exempt from these kinds of se- curity fears. Like other cloud-based technologies, Zoom is not immune to the threat of data mining and surveillance, even from other platforms. Like all media, platforms amplify the social, political and economic conditions in which they are used. Since corporate platforms profit from our usage and data, they all have an interest in keeping our attention and our active participation. This is what makes data mining, for instance, es- sential to all platforms. As critical media scholars have said for years, if the product is free, chances are the commodity is you. Like traditional news media and communica- tive technologies, platform conglomeration risks limiting information freedom and media democ- racy. Already, Zoom appears to have cornered the market for video conferencing platforms. Against the background of the COVID-19 crisis, we see just how essential social networking platforms and online communication technologies have become for our social life. At the same time, these technologies extend and embed work into the home. Can we imagine social media networks and apps designed for the public good? What might it look like if we removed platforms and social me- dia from their corporate setting? Perhaps a social media that lived up to its name. Given the ways we're using social technologies and platforms to maintain our social lives during the crisis, we should reconsider our relationships to technology. Maybe technologies and social media don't make us anti-social, after all, and the cause of the problem lies in a culture that priori- tizes profit making over people making. Matthew Flisfeder is an associate professor of rhetoric and com- munications at the University of Winnipeg. This article has been edited for length; the full version can be seen at winnipegfreepress.com or theconversation.com/ca. Corrections issues decades in the making "WE have public health issues that we are now looking at, so I think we're working with an eye to make sure everybody who is in is in to protect the public," the prosecutor said. "If they are supposed to be in, we are still saying they should be, but if we can release them, we are." This from a Crown attorney, speaking on condition of anonymity, in "Accused to be isolated before entering provincial jails" (Winnipeg Free Press, April 1). Doesn't this raise the question, "Shouldn't we have made sure in the first place that they needed to be in?" Of course, our correctional institutions must do everything in their power to control COVID-19, for all the reasons laid out in the April 7 editorial "Corrections must act to reduce virus risk." Their current physical state and long-standing policies, which favour restriction over rehabilitation, will make this extremely difficult, however. A system based on restorative-justice models that relies on proven community-based supports and programs would be both safer and more effective for all. Our provincial adult institutions' total rated capacity is 2,023; on Jan. 27, we know they housed 2,250 people. The most recent available data show that Manitoba has continued to default to incarceration as its primary response to crime. In 2017-18, Manitoba jailed 19 of every 10,000 children; eight out of 10 other provinces jail fewer than five. Across Canada, 83 adults per 100,000 are in- carcerated; in Manitoba, the number is 231. Most troubling, though, is that of all those serving fed- eral, provincial and community-based sentences in Manitoba, 75 per cent are Indigenous. Manitoba was the first province to adopt a Restorative Justice Act, back in 2015. There has been some movement since - the Restorative Justice Centre was opened a couple of years ago, and the Winnipeg Police Service has mandated a minimum number of pre-charge referrals be done on a monthly basis. Within Manitoba Corrections there is the Wind- ing River program, a small but welcome addition. Some process reforms led to a small decrease in detention rates; however, the default is still incar- ceration. On Jan. 27, Manitoba was still 227 over its maximum capacity. In 2020-21 alone, incar- ceration costs will exceed $204 million. Restorative-justice models focus on creat- ing the capacity for accountability in a person who has committed a crime. They address the conditions, addictions, cognitive issues, lack of employment and education and other factors that led to the crime. Victim impact and empathy are prioritized; direct restitution is even possible when appropriate. Crime victims routinely report greater satis- faction with a restorative-justice process. Their own healing has been helped, and they are more confident in the rehabilitation of the person who harmed them. In restorative justice, the victim gets far more information on what led to the crime against them and the work done by the perpetrator to address their risk factors. Winnipeg (10 per cent) and Manitoba (six per cent) saw increases to their violent crime index from 2017 to 2018. All agree that methamphet- amine abuse and addiction seems to be a major contributing factor, yet our response has re- mained punitive rather than treatment-focused. Former MP Jane Philpott and Senator Kim Pate accurately outline our current situation: "If you're poor, homeless, racialized, living in violence or with the ravages of the intergenera- tional trauma of residential school and colonial inequity, and anesthetizing yourself to such pain with drugs or alcohol, you are more likely to get prison than you are to get treatment, hous- ing, retraining or employment" (Policy Options Politiques). This is true across Canada and especially true in Manitoba, which remains home to three of the five federal ridings with the highest child-poverty rates in Canada. In 2017, despite the Canada Child Benefit, 85,450 children in Manitoba were living in poverty. One in every three children under the age of six lives in poverty. The debilitating effects of poverty on childhood development are well proven. At the beginning of March, when COVID-19 was not yet the concern it is, the Manitoba government announced a spending increase of $400,000, for a total of $2.8 million on restorative justice programs. This is welcome. However, it pales in comparison to the more than $200 million spent on jailing more than 2,000 people per year. Restorative-justice programs, especially those that are culturally appropriate and rooted in trusted community-based organizations, routinely report recidivism rates that are half of what cor- rections reports. The third pillar in a restorative-justice ap- proach is the role of the larger community. Once the COVID-19 crisis has passed, it will be up to us to resolve the crisis we have allowed poverty to create and perpetuate. Transforming our justice system into one that is both just and effective would be a good place to start. Kate Kehler is chair of the Restorative Justice Association of Manitoba and executive director of the Social Planning Council of Winnipeg. We must remember our responsibility to our elders IN this troubled time, the elderly are suffering far too much. They have paid far too high a price for getting old. Too many of the nursing homes they have been placed in have not been caring responsibly for these precious community members. Why they ended up in these places is not the issue. Care is the issue. These elderly people comforted us when we needed comfort, they loved us and taught us our values. Now when they need us the most, they have no voice, and society has neglected them in the most heart- less way. I am so disheartened about the news we have been getting about their treatment and the neglect they endure during their last precious days. It's bad enough that if they get COVID-19 they have to be isolated; from what we have been hearing, even before isolation, many are neglected and left on their own. They have given us so much and most don't ask for anything in return. They need atten- tion and love, as well as proper medical care. Love is not a financial cost; it is a human responsibility. I live in a northern First Nation, and when we were young we learned about responsibil- ity from our grandparents. We knew where we could go when we needed protection. We knew that our grandma would give comfort and safety. She taught us the value of caring, loving and sharing through what she did. Both of my grandparents were generous and kind, but it was my grandmother that we were clos- est to; when we were hungry we knew where we could go to get fed. I think about my grandmother and all the values she taught us, including the need to be kind and respectful. Life was not always easy living on my First Nation, and many times we would be hungry. My grandmother was blind; and when we arrived at her house, she would feel our arms and say in Cree, "You are thin, you need to eat more," and she would take us to her home- made kitchen table and feed us what she had. She didn't scold when we made a mess on the table; she would get a cloth and hand it to us - no words spoken - and we knew what to do. We wiped up our mess and tried not to make a mess again. I think about my grandmother and all the values she taught us, including the need to be kind and respectful. Her kind ways always warmed my heart and I loved watching her as she went about her work. Although my grandmother was blind, we never considered her as not being able to see. Her senses were sharp, and she always knew where we were and what we were doing. She was a very wise, smart and generous grandmother, but the generosity went both ways. She was diabetic, and every day one of us children would run over to her house to give her required insulin. We were far too young to be administering needles, but she trusted that we would do the right thing and we always did. The needle always went where it should go. Her trust in us was unconditional. We helped her to stay healthy and she helped us to become stable, good members of soci- ety through her example and her love. When I look back now, I know that we learned about reciprocity as much as we learned about car- ing. Perhaps not everyone had a similar positive experience with grandparents, but we all have a collective responsibility to older adults who worked hard to build Canada and create car- ing communities. How can we, as a society, turn our backs on the elders who made the country strong and, in turn, made us strong? Doris Young is a member of the Opaskwayak Cree Nation, Treaty 5 territory. She is a retired educator and a strong advocate for elders and social justice. She is a member of the Opaskwayak Cree Nation Health Board, a past board member of the University of Manitoba and the Health Sciences Centre. She has been blessed with three wonderful grandchildren. MATTHEW FLISFEDER KATE KEHLER DORIS YOUNG A_07_Apr-30-20_FP_01.indd A7 2020-04-29 5:41 PM ;