The Encampments
Please come out to the Community Hall on Friday, May 30th at 5 for a benefit supper and film at 6 to support Sara Kishawi, who was suspended for two years from Vancouver Island University for her advocacy for Palestinian rights. Sara is a Palestinian Muslim woman who was a leader at VIU’s Palestinian Solidarity Encampment, and suspended for her involvement in a series of actions promoting Palestinian human rights. Ms. Kishawi participated in a sit-in, put up “unsanctioned” posters, climbed a ladder to straighten a banner and other student activities. She was suspended for two years, during which time she cannot access her academic records or apply for further schooling. Of all the people who engaged in these actions, Palestinian students who were leaders of VIU’s encampment were the only ones to face suspensions, despite dozens of settlers involved in actions similar to the ones that Sara was suspended for.
This racial profiling and selective punishment mirrors similar arrests and suspensions across US campuses. Columbia University in New York alone has suspended 65 students. Hunger strikes are spreading now that police brutality and harsh penalties have had a chilling effect on the encampment movement. The Denman Palestinian Solidarity group is showing the documentary, The Encampments, produced by Watermelon Productions in 2025, which looks at some of the history of protest at Columbia and some of the peoples lives who have been impacted recently. Student protesters claim that Columbia incites racial violence against them and are being labelled “anti-Semitic” meanwhile Mahmoud Khalil, arrested at Columbia, without charges, on March 15, remains in custody, one thousand miles away from his newborn son.
Sara has filed a judicial review of her suspension with the BC Supreme Court seeking that her suspension be canceled on the grounds that it is a disproportionate and draconian response to her actions. VIU has previously argued that the Charter of Rights and Freedoms does not apply to their discipline of students, despite the significant impacts that suspensions can have on students. Denman lawyer Noah Ross is representing Sara in this litigation. Sara was suspended based on VIU’s non-academic misconduct policy. Universities across British Columbia have instituted non-academic misconduct policies and this litigation is one of the first cases to challenge University discipline based on these policies. For more information or If you cannot attend but can help with fundraising, donations can be sent via e-transfer to <ejmuirhead4@gmail.com>.
Calling All People: The Story of TemPest Grace Gale
Calling All People: The Story of TemPest Grace Gale
Born in California and raised on Hornby Island, B.C., TemPest was a creative powerhouse—a spoken word artist, musician, puppeteer, and activist—who captivated audiences across North America. She performed alongside DOA, No Means No, Ember Swift, CR Avery, and Joey Only, inspiring countless people with her raw talent and fearless pursuit of truth.
In her powerful poem “Calling All People,” TemPest issued a radical call to action—a plea to unite against oppression and work together to heal the planet. But in 2009, at just 25 years old, her life was tragically cut short when she was found dead in Ford Cove Marina. Her case remains unresolved, leaving behind a legacy that continues to inspire artists, activists, and communities today.
Through rare footage, intimate interviews, and powerful storytelling, this documentary explores her life, her art, and the impact she left behind. Come be part of the conversation, honor her story, and experience the spirit of TemPest that still moves through us all.
Location: Denman Island Community Hall
Date: Sunday June 1st
Price: sliding scale $10-20, tickets sold at the door.
Times: Matinee at 12:00 (doors at 11:30am), and
Evening screening at 7:00pm (doors 6:30pm)
Q & A’s at 1:00pm and at 8pm
Shucking Oysters: Plutocracy on Steroids
Shucking Oysters: Plutocracy on Steroids
By Alex Allen
“Plutocracy. It is the perfect nuance: chilly, inaccessible, icy-rich.” – Graham Joyce
When was the last time you read about Bezos, Musk, Zuckerberg, or any other ultra-rich yahoo, do something altruistic with their lives, let alone their money? Instead of shared social responsibility, the ultra-wealthy have morphed into “freewheeling celebrations of selfish opulence.” Rather than towards altruism, today’s plutocrats use their wealth to escape to private islands, host private Beyoncé concerts, and own private super yachts.
During the Covid lockdown, we got to see these modern-day plutocrats at their very worst. While the world’s economies ground to a halt and small businesses were crushed with debt, super yacht sales surged by 46%. Billionaire media mogul David Geffen had to hunker in isolation on his 454-foot-long super yacht, Rising Sun, a colossal 86,000 square feet of floating living space with 82 rooms. In the usual sensitivity of the rich and famous, Geffen posted a photo of a beautiful Caribbean sunset at the height of the pandemic, with the caption “Isolated in the Grenadines avoiding the virus. I hope everybody is staying safe.” The new mission statement: While the public suffer, the rich escape.
Over the last few decades, the signalling of wealth has shifted more and more from public philanthropy to private envy. Instead, the “haves” and “have yachts” play a status game for the benefit only of the too-rich themselves. Why spend chunks of your money on being benevolent and charitable, when you can buy a 230-foot-long Benetti super yacht with “playful touches such as custom poufs with built-in chessboards….and a dramatic, glass-fronted wine cellar along the port side corridor” for $49 million?
In his article, “The Rise of the Selfish Plutocrats,” in The Atlantic, Brian Klaas argues that some of “the American ultra-rich openly deride philanthropy as an ineffective use of money.” The tech mogul Marc Andreessen baldy stated that “technological innovation in a market system is inherently philanthropic.” True, the Gates Foundation has made progress against the ills of Third World health, but by and large, Klaas notes, “the notion that wealthy individuals will marshal their resources to alleviate social crises has come to seem quaint in today’s world.”
Linda McQuaig, author of, most recently, The Sport & Prey of Capitalists, wrote that “while the well-to-do seem motivated to have their names prominently displayed on the outside of educational, cultural, and medical facilities where their largess will presumably be noted by their peers,” they have almost no interest in contributing to community centres, recreation facilities, or swimming pools in marginalized neighbourhoods. (Fun fact: In 2013, McQuaig ran for the federal NDP in the Toronto Centre by-election and was defeated by Liberal Chrystia Freeland, who authored that same year, Plutocrats: The Rise of the New Global Super-Rich and the Fall of Everyone Else.)
In his 2023 book, As Gods Among Men, economic historian Guido Alfani amply demonstrates that today’s ultra-rich are uniquely selfish; they may indulge in some philanthropy, but most avoid their obligations to society. Their chunks of money buys them the means to avoid paying taxes, silencing critics and rewriting laws.
Most of Trump’s political appointments are beautifully rich. Howard Lutnick ($2bn), Trump’s grinning commerce secretary, is an investment banker. The education secretary is former wrestling promoter, Linda McMahon ($3.2bn), who once claimed she had a bachelor’s degree in education. She doesn’t. NASA is run by defence tycoon Jared Isaacman ($1.8bn) and the Department of Energy secretary is fracking company, Liberty Energy CEO Chris Wright, a “drill-baby-drill” character who last year claimed “there is no climate crisis.”
Trump has also given his diplomatic corps “a distinct billionaire glitter.” He’s named Tilman Fertitta ($10.4bn), owner of Golden Nugget Casinos and Hotels, as ambassador to Italy and his son-in-law’s father, the pardoned tax-cheat Charles Kushner ($2.9bn), will be at the US embassy in Paris. The ambassador to the UK is another investment banker Warren Stephens (estimated net worth $3.4bn). What better candidates to serve one’s country with “professional excellence, the highest standards of ethical conduct, and diplomatic discretion”?
And then the Trump family, with no hint of modesty, have accumulated over $3 billion in wealth during the first three months of daddy’s second term. Karoline Leavitt, Trump’s pert and pink front lady, offered a hilarious defence that is, well, rather rich: “I think it’s frankly ridiculous that anyone in this room would even suggest that President Trump is doing anything for his own benefit. He left a life of luxury and a life of running a very successful real estate empire for public service… this is a president who has actually lost money for being president.” In rebuttal, Chris Hedges perhaps summed it up best: “Trump and his coterie of billionaires, generals, halfwits, Christian fascists, criminals, racists, and moral deviants embody the moral rot unleashed by unfettered capitalism.”
Yes, success has its dark side. The more we view ourselves as ‘self-made” and “self-sufficient,” the less likely we are to care for the fate of those less fortunate than ourselves. So, what does it mean for the world when the norms governing the lives of the wealthiest people on Earth are so utterly detached from the reality of those they claim to serve? I think it means we’re fucked.
Forever bound by a single, poignant moment.
Gabriel Jeroschewitz, May 18th, 2025.
Forever bound by a single, poignant moment.
The gallery was hushed and respectful. Some called it a cathedral of art; it felt that way tonight. I, however, felt more like a trespasser. I didn’t belong in this temple of hushed tones and knowing nods. My tie felt too tight, and my shoes were too new. I was here for one reason: the Man Ray exhibit featured a collection of his works, including the photograph of Marcel Proust on his deathbed that had captivated me.
I’d stumbled upon it in a book years ago, during a particularly bleak period. The stark and unforgiving image had struck a chord with a rawness I hadn’t anticipated. It wasn’t just the grim reality of death laid bare; it was the palpable sense of solitude, of a mind retreating into itself as the body gave way. That photograph haunted me, becoming a silent companion in my solitary struggles.
Here it was, enshrined in a frame, bathed in soft light. The spectral figure of Proust, eyes closed, face gaunt, seemed to breathe even in the photograph’s stillness. His presence filled the space, a heavy, almost suffocating atmosphere clinging to the air around it.
I found myself drawn closer, as if by an invisible force, compelled to confront the image that had burrowed its way into my subconscious. A strange sensation washed over me as I gazed, a dizzying sense of displacement. The room around me seemed to fade, the murmuring voices dissolving into a distant hum. The photograph swelled, expanding until it filled my entire field of vision.
Then, I was falling. Not physically, but inwards, spiralling down a dark, endless tunnel. A voice, raspy and faint, echoed around me.
“My shaken stem, flickering afire,” it moaned, “amidst soul’s sun-burnt winds.”
The words were alien yet somehow familiar. They were a verse from one of Proust’s lesser-known poems. A feeling of profound unease settled over me, a sense of being trapped in a nightmare I couldn’t escape.
“Flowerless and sturdy, it bends,” the voice continued, “thorns piercing my heavy heart, falling aflame on tears’ pillow.”
Images flashed before my eyes: a wilting rose, a blood-red wound, a face etched with pain and despair. It was Proust, I realized, or at least, a distorted, fragmented version of him. He was trapped, confined within the photograph, reliving his final moments in an endless loop of agony.
“My two eyes, fractured windows,” he whispered, his voice growing stronger, more desperate, “glass sight firing sharp shrapnel of stinging scars across the dark.”
The darkness around me intensified, pressing in on all sides. I felt a sharp, searing pain in my chest, as if shards of glass were tearing through my heart. The images became more vivid, visceral: a broken mirror, a desolate landscape, eyes filled with an unbearable sorrow.
“Sharp pain sears the sure heat,” Proust groaned, “emblazing heart’s fiery inferno.”
The air crackled with an oppressive heat, the stench of burning flesh filling my nostrils. I felt my own heart pounding against my ribs, threatening to burst. I was drowning in Proust’s pain, consumed by his despair.
Suddenly, the image shifted. I was no longer falling, no longer trapped in the darkness. I was in a room, dimly lit and cluttered with books and papers. A figure lay in bed, frail and pale, his breath shallow and ragged. It was Proust, but not the ethereal figure from the photograph. This was him in his final hours, a man stripped bare, reduced to his most vulnerable state.
He opened his eyes, and for a fleeting moment, our gazes met. In that instant, I saw pain and suffering, a profound understanding of the human condition, and a deep acceptance of his fate. And then, something shifted within me. The pain in my chest subsided, and the darkness began to recede.
I was back in the gallery, standing before the photograph. The room was still hushed, the voices still murmuring. But something had changed. The image no longer held the same oppressive weight. It was still a stark portrayal of death, but now, I saw a glimmer of hope, a hint of peace.
I understood, in a way I hadn’t before, that Proust’s work wasn’t just about exploring memory and time. It was about confronting the darkness within ourselves, about finding meaning and beauty even in the face of suffering. Man Ray’s photograph, in capturing Proust’s final moments, had captured something more profound – the enduring power of the human spirit.
The experience had shaken me, leaving me feeling raw and vulnerable. But it had also given me something invaluable: a renewed sense of perspective, a deeper appreciation for the fragility and beauty of life.
I turned away from the photograph, a quiet resolve settling within me. The world outside the gallery seemed brighter and more vibrant. The tie around my neck felt less constricting, and the shoes on my feet felt less new. I walked out into the night, no longer a trespasser but a pilgrim, carrying a piece of Proust’s wisdom within me.
The photograph remained there, a silent testament to the intertwined legacies of two artists, forever bound by a single, poignant moment in time. And somewhere, in my memory, the echo of Proust’s voice lingered, a reminder that even in the darkest times, there is always the possibility of finding light. The journey through the fractured windows of another’s pain had somehow, miraculously, begun to mend my own.
This Dystopia Would Never Be Accepted Without Extensive Indoctrination
Listen to a reading of this article (reading by Tim Foley):
I am not a politically complicated person. I think genocide is bad. I think peace is good. I don’t think anyone should be struggling to survive in a civilization that is capable of providing for all. I think we should try to preserve the biosphere we all depend on for survival.
To me these are just obvious, common sense positions, no more remarkable or profound than believing I should refrain from slamming my nipple in a car door. I do not think these views should put me on the political fringe. I don’t think they should cause me to be seen as some kind of radical. It’s not outlandish that I hold these views, it’s outlandish that everyone else does not.
But that’s the kind of society we find ourselves in today. The obvious is framed as freakish while the freakish is presented as obvious. Health is framed as sickness while sickness is presented as health. The moderate is framed as extremism while extremism is presented as moderate.
We live in a twisted, backwards dystopia where everything is the opposite of the way it should be, and we’re conditioned to think it’s normal and acceptable. It’s not until some degree of insight dawns in you that you look around and realize you are living in the nightmare of a madman. Until then you spend your time here thinking, speaking, voting and behaving as though the demented status quo we are living under is the moderate and expected reality.
All our lives we are trained to believe this hellscape is the healthy and expected circumstance for our species. Our parents and teachers tell us that it’s normal for things to be this way. Our pundits and politicians assure us that there’s no other way things could be and that we are living under the best possible system.
A big part of it is just growing up in a society that’s been diseased since long before you were born, being raised and taught by people who also grew up in a society that’s been diseased since long before they were born. We show up here, we don’t know anything, and then the big people teach us about war and money and jobs and politics, and assure us that our initial horrified reaction to the things we are learning is just immature naivety to something fine and normal.
If you’ve ever had the misfortune of having to explain war to a child, then you know how insane this civilization looks when perceived by a pair of fresh eyes. I’ve never had to explain the genocide in Gaza to a young child, but I am sure it would be met with even more shock and grief. Kids have a natural, healthy revulsion toward such things, and it is only by sustained indoctrination that we are able to twist their minds into seeing them as normal.
It takes a lot of education to make us this stupid. Our minds require a whole lot of training to accept this horrific dystopia as the baseline norm. That’s why the empire we live under has the most sophisticated domestic propaganda machine that has ever existed.
In order to have clarity, we need to learn to look with fresh eyes. Uninitiated eyes. Eyes that have not been educated out of their initial healthy impulse to weep at what we are doing and how we are living here. We need to get in touch with that intuition within us which rejects the sickness of our society as though it was meeting it for the very first time.
Learning to meet life afresh in each instant is good practice anyway; it makes living a lot more enjoyable and beautiful, and it helps us move in a much wiser way since we’re not constantly reacting to old patterns and expectations in an ever-changing world. But as an added bonus it also peels away the tolerance we have built up for the backwards lunacy of this empire we are living under.
The less healthy this civilization feels to you, the healthier you are getting. Everything about this nightmare looks appalling through clear eyes.
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My work is entirely reader-supported, so if you enjoyed this piece here are some options where you can toss some money into my tip jar if you want to. Click here for links for my mailing list, social media, books, merch, and audio/video versions of each article. All my work is free to bootleg and use in any way, shape or form; republish it, translate it, use it on merchandise; whatever you want. All works co-authored with my husband Tim Foley.
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Feature image via Adobe Stock.
Children’s Art Show – May 23rd-26th
Children’s Art Show
The Summer Gallery is planning a Children’s Art Show from May 23rd to May 26th. The Principal and Staff of Denman Island School are making this possible by collecting work to be shown at the Gallery. Thank you.
In 2023 we were able to show work from every student in the school and it would be wonderful if we are able to do this in 2025.
This year I would also like to include students who are home- schooled and past students of Denman school. Please contact Judith Scruton at 250 335 2069 if you have any work you wish to include.
The Art work will be curated on Thursday and students and staff will be able to bring their students to see their work displayed on Friday between 10 am and 3pm, along with any members of the public who would like to join us. On Saturday, Sunday and Monday the show will be open from 11am to 4pm and we look forward to seeing children and parents, and the community coming to enjoy the wonderful work our children create.
Cake and beverages will be available on Saturday and Sunday. Please come and join us.