TUESDAY, OCTOBER 7 2025 | VOL. 45 | ISSUE 6
McGill contingent joins Montrealwide protest marking 700 days of resistance in Gaza PG. 3 NEWS
Protests are disruptive because they need to be
PG. 11 OFF THE BOARD
FEATURE PGS. 8-9
Decolonizing the Canadian museum
Kaitlyn Schramm News Editor
On Wednesday, Oct. 1, McGill’s food accessibility collective Midnight Kitchen (MK)—largely known for its free lunch program—was dismantled by the Students’ Society of McGill University (SSMU)’s Board of Directors (BoD), who fired MK’s staff and locked the kitchen’s doors without warning. Later that day, the BoD sent an email to the student body announcing SSMU’s planned MK restructuring, attaching documentation of MK’s annual budgets from the last three school years. SSMU stated that the closure was due to MK’s failure to use its budget to meet their fee-mandated five meals per week, instead providing only two.
SSMU President Dymetri Taylor discussed the society’s decision to close MK’s program in an interview with The Tribune.
“Services are reviewed every single year, and in that first [re]view of the services it’s also a review of how they have done in preceding years, what their mandates are, whether those mandates are being followed,” Taylor said. “And in this instance, Midnight Kitchen was being reviewed to account for, particularly, [their] fee mandate of serving five meals a week, and also in comparison of how the service operated in the past.”
Taylor described MK’s budget over the past few years, noting a gradual increase in the amount it has spent on food since 2022—with a budget of $7,500 CAD for food in 2022 and over three times that amount for this school year.
“Again, [food is] budgeted for $25,000 [CAD], but then the amount of servings [MK provides] remains the same,” Taylor stated. “So then the question becomes, well, if the money is going up, but there’s no increase in the amount of servings, what is being done for students, when students are paying to get five servings a week?”
Taylor continued to speak about how the Board’s decision to cut MK resulted from the release of the kitchen’s Fall term meal schedule, which outlined two meals per week. He noted that even though it is not ideal to halt the program a month into the school year, resulting in no MK meal offerings for the rest of the semester, it allows SSMU more time to plan for a revamped MK to open in January 2026, run by a newly appointed Food Services and Hospitality Manager.
Taylor addressed why the BoD decided to provide notice of closure to MK’s employees only on the day of their termination.
“There’s different manners [with] which you can go about it,” he outlined. “One, of course, is that you give an advanced notice, like you give notice a month in advance, and then for that entire month, more or less, that person is still mandated to work until it comes to effect. [....] [The con] is that there’s then all the negative mental aspects that come with knowing
that. [....] It’s not a good environment for anyone to be stuck in. The other option in the collective agreement [between SSMU and its services] is that notice can be provided when [the closure] is occurring. [....] Then, that individual also gets paid for that week that they did not receive the notice.”
SSMU’s decision to close MK sparked
“Not only is [MK’s closure] based on a dire misunderstanding of how cooking operations work, like the need to pay for tools, kitchen upkeep, wages, transporting food, to name a few, most of our food is donated [...] which offers free surplus food products in bulk which would otherwise be wasted,” one former staff member
mixed responses from the student body.
On Oct. 2, students rallied in front of the University Centre at 1:00 p.m. in support of MK, clanging cutlery, tupperware, and pots together. Some of MK’s previous staff then spoke at the rally, claiming that the BoD’s email to the student body spread misinformation and was purposefully deceitful. They mentioned that their budget does not accurately reflect the kitchen’s food intake, citing that they receive many of their ingredients through donations from Élèves des champs and Moisson Montréal.
Midnight Kitchen because of our political stance and outspokenness on issues that affect students. We have so much community support because we support the community. The SSMU cannot recreate this network of mutuality on their own.”
The same staff member noted that the Board not only neglected to provide advance notice of MK’s closure, but also promised days earlier at the SSMU’s Fall General Assembly on Sept. 29 that new SSMU hires’ contracts would be signed by the end of the week. Cecelia Callahan, U2 Arts and a recent MK hire, corroborated this statement in an interview with The Tribune after the rally.
“[SSMU] said that my contract would start [around] three weeks ago, but they kept delaying signing off [on] my contract, and kept saying that it would occur, and it didn’t,” Callahan explained. “Dymetri Taylor told us that they’d be signed at the end of the week, but then we were fired two days later. But we weren’t actually fired. I actually never got a notice that I’m no longer working there, because I never officially worked there.”
At the rally, Vice-President of SSMU’s labour union Alice Postovskiy spoke on SSMU’s restructuring of MK, expressing skepticism towards the intentions behind the closure.
“Groups like Midnight Kitchen operate semi-independently,” Postovskiy said. “They’re legally part of SSMU, but they manage their own operations and their own governance. [SSMU] doesn’t understand [what] it takes to run a kitchen. They don’t care, and they don’t think that the people involved, the staff members and the volunteers, actually have relevant expertise and know what they’re doing. [....] They’ve been sanctioning groups for political reasons.”
As SSMU plans to hire one person to oversee the refinanced kitchen come January, former MK staff members raised concerns at the rally that SSMU directors do not understand what exactly is needed to run a food kitchen. They described how The People’s Potato, a by-donation meal service at Concordia University, provides four meals a week—with a team twice the size of MK’s, wages $10 CAD higher per hour, and a significantly larger kitchen space.
stated.
The former staff continued by outlining unique anti-oppressive resources MK provides beyond its lunch service—offering free Solidarity Services for community events, hosting workshops, and financially supporting social justice movements throughout Montreal—that could be endangered by SSMU’s kitchen takeover.
“The Midnight Kitchen has an anticapitalist, anti-oppressive political mandate,” another former staff member explained. “Many of our volunteers choose
“The People’s Potato visited Midnight Kitchen last year and confirmed that expanding the number of meal services per week was not feasible given our budget, team size, and the size of our kitchen, and the SSMU wants to run Midnight Kitchen with a single staff member,” a former staff member explained. “Can you see how impossible this vision is?”
Former MK staff members concluded the rally by expressing worries about the increasing austerity measures being taken at McGill, and the potential lifespan of a refinanced meal service designed and run by only one employee.
“Costing students their jobs is not in student interest. Canceling free meals is not in our interest. Ignoring the needs and wants of students is not in our interest,” a former MK staff member concluded.
Asher Kui News Editor
On Oct. 4, approximately 100 people gathered outside of Sherbrooke 680 for a student contingent march, organized by Students for Palestine’s Honour and Resistance (SPHR), to commemorate the International Day of Action, which acknowledges Israel’s genocide of Palestinians as well as simultaneous resistance against this genocide.
“Israël assassine les enfants de Palestine. Israël assassine les médecins de Palestine. Israël assassine les journalistes de Palestine,” protestors chanted.
In an interview with The Tribune, a representative of the McGill student contingent who wished to remain anonymous explained what the International Day of Action signifies, and why it is important to demonstrate on this day.
“Today [...] there are multiple cities across North America and the rest of the world that are mobilizing for two years of genocide in Gaza,” they said. “It’s an international day for us to mobilize on the streets to show our complicit government and people of power that students and the people [...] won’t be silenced by the actions that Israel is committing in Gaza, the crimes of humanity and the crime of genocide that is being committed.”
Originally planning for
the Roddick Gates, SPHR changed the start location to Sherbrooke 680 due to unforeseen construction. (Sophie Schuyler / The Tribune)
The representative continued to emphasize that McGill’s refusal to divest from companies complicit in Israel’s genocide highlights the university’s priorities.
In a written exchange with The Tribune, McGill’s Media Relations Office (MRO) declined to comment on the student contingent march and the marchers’ calls for McGill to divest.
At 2:10 p.m., the group outside of Sherbrooke 680, which included Profs 4 Palestine and Grad Students for Palestine, started heading east on rue Sherbrooke. At its intersection with av. du Parc, the demonstrators met La manif à vélo pour la Palestine, a group of around 200 cyclists who were also heading towards Place des Arts.
The student contingent reached Place des Arts—at the intersection of rue Ste.-Catherine and rue St.-Urbain—at 2:50 p.m. Around 1,000 protestors assembled, with multiple speakers explaining how different countries are complicit in Israel’s genocide. One speaker highlighted how only people coming together as a collective will have the power to influence the outcomes of Palestinian liberation.
“Our administration sees that students are very mobilized in objecting to the university’s complicity in the genocide and in the occupation of Palestine, but they continue to refuse to divest and prioritize the donors’ money over the blood of the people in Gaza,” they said. “It’s clear that for them, it’s not about what the students want, it’s about what benefits them the most. [....] Money benefits them, and that’s what they choose.”
“The power is not in the hands of those in the halls of [Canadian] Parliament,” they declared to the demonstrators. “The power is not in the hands of those who own bombs and weapons. The power is in the people who have something worth fighting for. There is no struggle more worthy of sacrifice than our struggle for liberation.”
In an interview with The Tribune, an organizer with Palestinian Youth Movement (PYM) Montreal mentioned the importance of Canada’s Arms Embargo Now campaign and how it has recently gained traction in the McGill community.
“[The Arms Embargo Now campaign] emphasizes the relationship between our universities and the calls for an arms embargo, especially as our universities are investing in weapons manufacturers but are also hosting research that is sometimes subcontracted by weapons companies,” they said. “McGill also hosts partnership programs with Israeli universities that are either closely tied to the Israeli occupation forces, or that are actually on stolen Palestinian land.”
The representative of the McGill student contingent also underlined that while Canada’s recent recognition of Palestine as a state is significant on the global stage, the Arms Embargo Now campaign is far more crucial in ending Israel’s genocide in Palestine.
“Now, the majority of the world recognizes Palestine, but it doesn’t change the material conditions in Gaza,” they explained. “People are still being massacred. The Western governments and the Western countries continue to provide arms to the Zionist entity. What the people want really is an arms embargo.”
Only 13 participants voted against the motion SSMU General Assembly votes for motion to strike on Oct. 7 for divestment from genocide
Amelia H. Clark Staff Writer
Over 500 students gathered in person and over Zoom at the Sept. 29 Students’ Society of McGill University (SSMU)’s Fall General Assembly (GA) to vote on a motion to strike on Oct. 7 for McGill’s divestment from Israel’s genocide.
The one-day solidarity strike motion calls on McGill to accept the same three demands guiding the SSMU’s strike for Palestine in April 2025, all of which remain unmet. The first and second demands cite the SSMU’s Policy on Harmful Military Technology to demand that McGill divest from companies that profit from Israel’s military action in Gaza, and end any research or financial relationships between the university and these companies. The strike motion’s third demand calls on McGill to drop all disciplinary cases filed against students involved in popular organizing and advocacy for Palestine, and grant students immunity for similar future protests.
These renewed demands follow McGill’s decision to file a court order in the summer of 2025 for an injunction which would have indefinitely banned on-campus protests impacting McGill students, faculty, or property, in response to the SSMU student strike for Palestine in April 2025. The Quebec Court rejected the injunction on Sept. 30, stating that its broad scope would leave ample room for arbitrary interpretation that could be weaponized to restrict freedom of speech.
The GA began with a report from the Executive Committee presented by SSMU President Dymetri Taylor, which primarily outlined the requirements for applying for the currently vacant roles of Vice-President (VP) Finance and VP Internal on the SSMU’s Board of Directors. Chair Acadia Knickerbocker then introduced a questioning period wherein students expressed curiosity about the positions, specifically regarding the positions’ hours and why the roles are now hired rather than elected.
After a 10-minute recess to address technical difficulties with link-sharing for the Zoom, the meeting met quorum, and the GA proceeded with a five-minute presentation on the strike motion by its mover, Sumayya Kheireddine.
Kheireddine began by telling attendees that over the last 723 days that McGill has not divested from Israeli manufacturing, Israel has murdered over 65,000 people in Palestine using weapons produced by the companies that the university supports. Therefore, Kheireddine expressed, divesting from the corporations responsible is not just a political imperative, but a moral duty.
“The F-35 and F-16 jets supplied by these companies have dropped more than 85,000 tons of bombs since October 2023, killing and injuring more than 179,000 Palestinians and obliterating Gaza,” Kheireddine said. “All of this is made possible by universities like ours, which collaborate in their research with [Israel], are invested in [genocide], and profit
from it.”
After a motion-specific question period, the strike was passed with a large majority in favour, and the bill entered a ratification voting period. The vote needed to meet a quorum of at least 10 per cent of undergraduates in order to be put into effect. After a six-day voting period, the motion for a strike passed, with 67.5 per cent of voting students in favour.
Oct. 2, 2025,
In an interview with The Tribune, one voter in favour of the motion, who attended the April special GA for a strike and corresponding demonstrations, stated that events like these encourage activists to continue fighting for divestment by demonstrating the strength in numbers that is necessary to create change.
“We want open negotiations [with McGill],” the voter, who wished to remain unnamed, said. “We want more transparency [from McGill], and by showing up we get that point across. Showing up as a collective does also increase our morale and makes us feel like we’re not alone in these
thoughts.”
In an interview with The Tribune , a representative of Students for Palestine’s Honour and Resistance (SPHR) said that although this victory marks a positive trend towards divestment, students should remain consistently engaged with pro-Palestinian activism, as the fight for liberation is far from over. The representative, who wished to remain unnamed, also encouraged students to show their continued support for Palestine by attending a rally on Oct. 7, starting at 1:00 p.m. at Concordia.
“The students have proven time and time again that they stand with Palestine and they demand divestment,” the representative stated. “So when is McGill going to listen to the student demand?”
Helene Saleska News Editor
At approximately 11:30 a.m. on Sept. 30, Canada’s National Day for Truth and Reconciliation, three Kanien’keha:ka Kahnistensera (Mohawk Mothers) addressed a crowd clad in orange at McGill’s Allan Memorial Institute, describing their ongoing legal battle with McGill and the Société québécois des infrastructures (SQI). The Mothers’ fight concerns the potential unmarked graves of Indigenous children they believe to be present at and near McGill’s New Vic site. At the press conference, the Mothers discussed a new interlocutory motion they were planning to file against the SQI to prevent further excavations on the grounds. On Oct. 1, they announced they would not be filing the motion.
The Mohawk Mothers shared during the press conference that they will be returning to Quebec’s courts to pursue new legal action in hopes of preventing the SQI from excavating locations around the New Vic site— some of which have been newly identified—that are potential sites of human remains.
Mother kwetiio emphasized in her speech that archeologists gathered evidence of newly-identified sites using three different technologies: Historic human remains detection dogs (HHRDDs), ground-penetrating radar (GPR), and a new S4 Subterra Grey probe designed specifically to detect human burials.
“The search dogs identified three other areas with the scent of human remains, along with ground penetrating radar and a special probe designed to find burials,” she reported.
Philippe Blouin, a PhD candidate in McGill’s Department of Anthropology and associate of the Mothers, explained in an interview with The Tribune that despite these potential burial sites being outside of the zone of McGill’s construction, the Mothers worry that the SQI still plans to excavate the area.
“The SQI [...] announced that they will be coming into the zones where evidence has been identified [...] to do excavations the same way they did in the past, meaning without any forensic precautions,” he said.
renewed legal action to ensure that the new sites will not be excavated, moved, or destroyed throughout the ongoing legal battle.
However, the day after this press conference, on Oct. 1, the Mohawk Mothers received new information that they were unable to discuss with The Tribune due to the ongoing nature of these legal proceedings. Instead of filing the interlocutory motion they planned, they will be switching gears to a new course of action for protecting the potential unmarked graves at the newly identified Allan Memorial Institute sites.
Blouin emphasized that the Mothers’ goals remain the same, despite their legal tactics changing.
“We don’t know exactly how we will approach the interlocutory or emergency of protecting the area. We can’t state our strat-
“[The trial] will determine retrospectively what should have happened, and the pieces of evidence will be examined there,” Blouin stated. “But in the meantime, we are really adamant that the SQI should not touch the ground at all.”
McGill’s Media Relations Office (MRO) said in a written statement to The Tribune that McGill has abided by their settlement agreement with the Mothers, and claimed that no evidence of human remains has ever been found on McGill’s New Vic construction site.
“No study nor analysis conducted to date suggests a plausible risk of human remains on the site of McGill’s project,” the MRO wrote. “Should human remains be detected, McGill would act with the utmost respect, stop work immediately and abide by
excavations at the New Vic site, the Mothers obtained a safeguard order from the Superior Court of Quebec requiring McGill to respect their shared settlement agreement. However, McGill got the order overturned in the Court of Appeal in August 2024. kahentinetha emphasized how these actions stand in opposition to the principles of truth and reconciliation.
“What we see [at the New Vic site] is not only the hiding, but the very destruction of truth,” she stated. “We faced unprecedented pushback and gaslighting whenever we tried to make McGill and the SQI respect their own law and the very experts that they [hired].”
Mother kwetiio also explained the ways in which McGill specifically mishandled evidence of suspected unmarked graves at the New Vic site, prompting their case for the safeguard order.
He explained the importance of protecting these specific sites, in light of the Mohawk Mothers’ claim that McGill has previously destroyed evidence during construction.
“[At McGill’s New Vic construction site], the damage was already done, and the Mohawk Mothers will be reserving the right to other legal recourses, [...] for some sort of reparations,” he stated.
The Mohawk Mothers announced that, in light of previous methods of excavation by McGill and the SQI at the New Vic Site—which the Mothers claim violated their shared settlement agreement—they will seek
egy yet,” Blouin said. “But the same emergency stands, the threat to excavate the area with several pieces of evidence [in it] is still the [issue].”
Blouin also explained that the Mohawk Mothers have now been told that they should be ready for a full trial at the Superior Court of Quebec against McGill and the SQI by the end of March. The trial will discuss all the evidence of potential unmarked graves found on all sites and the question of whether McGill and the SQI have followed their obligations under their agreement with the Mohawk Mothers.
the Settlement Agreement signed in 2023.”
In her speech at the press conference, Mother kahentinetha shared how the Mohawk Mothers’ struggle with McGill and the SQI is a continuation of the struggle that Kanien’keha:ka Peoples have endured against colonialism for nearly 500 years.
“[Genocide], the ominous crime against humanity that Canada has been committing against us, [...] continues to this day,” she stated.
kahentinetha explained that two years ago, after McGill dismissed the panel of archaeologists that was appointed to oversee
“[The HHRDDs] found two small leather shoes in [the] soil,” kwetiio said. “Instead of sifting the soil immediately, it was left uncovered in big piles, rotting, exposed to the elements. Only four months later was the soil finally sifted, but not manually, as they were legally supposed to do. It was dumped into trucks and moved to another location to let McGill’s bulldozers in to start the New Vic project.”
Throughout the press conference, the Mothers reflected on their struggle in light of the National Day for Truth and Reconciliation, and implored the audience to do the same.
“[There is a] huge discrepancy between what this national holiday shows to the public and what is actually happening in real life for Indigenous people like us, trying to concretely protect and investigate the clandestine graves of our children,” kahentinetha said.
She directly called on the audience to think about what they can do to help the Mothers uncover the truth, by digging deeper into Canada’s full history.
“There are mass graves all over Canada, and we need to find them,” kahentinetha stated. “We need you to help us, [...] to open those doors. These are your doors.”
After the Mothers’ press conference, attendees walked to the Monument de Sir George-Étienne Cartier on av. du Parc for the Every Child Matters March.
In an interview with The Tribune , McGill student Tarek Maussili, 2L Faculty of Law, shared the importance of attending the march and wearing orange on the National Day for Truth and Reconciliation.
“I wear an orange shirt because, you know, I’m honouring my grandmother,” Maussili said. “I’m honouring my mom. Both went to residential school. [....] And it’s to remind ourselves that the war is not over, right? This is a war. Canada is committing genocide, and we’re here to remember those that [were forgotten].”
Editor-in-Chief Yusur Al-Sharqi editor@thetribune.ca
Creative Director Mia Helfrich creativedirector@thetribune.ca
Managing Editors Mairin Burke mburke@thetribune.ca
Malika Logossou mlogossou@thetribune.ca Nell Pollak npollak@thetribune.ca
News Editors Asher Kui Helene Saleska Kaitlyn Schramm news@thetribune.ca
Opinion Editors Moyo Alabi Lulu Calame Ellen Lurie opinion@thetribune.ca
Science & Technology Editors Leanne Cherry Sarah McDonald scitech@thetribune.ca
Student Life Editors Gregor McCall Tamiyana Roemer studentlife@thetribune.ca
Features Editor Jenna Durante features@thetribune.ca
Arts & Entertainment Editors Annabella Lawlor Bianca Sugunasiri arts@thetribune.ca
Sports Editors Ethan Kahn Clara Smyrski sports@thetribune.ca
Design Editors Zoe Lee Eliot Loose design@thetribune.ca
Photo Editors Armen Erzingatzian Anna Seger photo@thetribune.ca
Multimedia Editors Sahel Delafoulhouse multimedia@thetribune.ca
Web Developer Rupneet Shahriar webdev@thetribune.ca
Copy Editor Ella Bachrach copy@thetribune.ca
Social Media Editor Mariam Lakoande socialmedia@thetribune.ca
Business Manager Celine Li business@thetribune.ca
McGill, Your students condemn genocide—so must you
Today, Oct. 7, 2025, McGill students are striking in support of Palestinian liberation. On Sept. 29, the Students Society of McGill University (SSMU) held a Special Strike General Assembly (GA), in which Students for Palestine’s Honour and Resistance (SPHR) presented a motion calling for a strike for divestment. Students exceeded the Special Strike GA’s required quorum of 500 students, and the motion passed in nearly unanimous favour. The motion was ratified on Oct. 6 by an online student vote, with a record 9190 (36.3 per cent) voter turnout: 67.5 per cent in favour, and 32.5 per cent opposing.
The motion calls on McGill to divest from companies involved in manufacturing weapons used in Israel’s ongoing genocide in Gaza, such as Lockheed Martin and Airbus, and cease research and financial partnerships with these organizations. Students are also demanding amnesty for peaceful pro-Palestine protesters who have been targeted by McGill’s disciplinary systems. This collective action represents something far more significant than just missing one day of class: it is a clear refusal to accept McGill’s institutional complicity in
Misha Starovoitov Contributor
Earlier this month, Albania’s prime minister Edi Rama presented a novel push in technology: An AI member of parliament named Diella, dressed in traditional Albanian clothing. Diella’s work responsibilities include trying to combat corruption, hiring tenders for infrastructure projects, and navigating users through Albania’s websites to ensure easy access to legal documents.
Israel’s genocide in Gaza.
Canada’s recognition of Palestine as a state, alongside acknowledgments from 157 of the 193 UN member states—representing 81 per cent of the international community— has marked an unprecedented shift in international pressure to hold the Israeli state accountable for its incessant violence against Palestinians. The United Nations has only now begun to explicitly define Israel’s actions in Gaza as a genocide. This recognition, while significant, is long overdue. That it took this long for global institutions to apply the correct terminology does not mean the genocide only began when it was named; it reflects a decades-long failure to respond to Palestinian suffering. However, legal and symbolic recognitions have yet to yield meaningful consequences. International institutions, including the UN, have time and time again proven largely ineffective in halting Israel’s ongoing violence, the mass killing of civilians, the use of starvation as a weapon, the bombing of hospitals and schools, sexual violence, and the deliberate targeting of children. This failure is mirrored by McGill’s continued investment in corporations complicit in these atrocities, despite urgent calls from its student body to divest.
McGill has not only failed to
acknowledge its own complicity in the genocide, but has actively and unjustly suppressed student activism calling for full divestment. Following last October’s protest, the university filed an injunction specifically targeting SPHR. It also imposed ID card scanning requirements during pro-Palestinian mobilizations in April, and again Oct. 7, 2024, intensifying surveillance of student organizers. In recent months, McGill has heightened police presence and threatened students with disciplinary action for participating in peaceful demonstrations. These tactics, which are codified further through McGill’s revised Memorandum of Agreement (MoA) with SSMU, conflate all forms of pro-Palestinian activism with violence, vilifying student protestors and undermining student freedoms of expression and assembly in the process.
The timing of the strike is not coincidental. Oct. 7 marks two years since the Hamas-led attack on Israel, a tragic event that Netanyahu and his cabinet have since weaponized to justify their ongoing genocide in Gaza. Oct. 7 also marks one year since McGill shut down its campus in anticipation of pro-Palestinian protests, citing ‘security concerns.’ Today’s strike represents more than defiance of McGill’s genocidal investment
profile; it reclaims a date the university has since used to frame pro-Palestinian advocacy as dangerous, and declares that the Oct. 7 attacks cannot serve as a justification for Israel’s abhorrent and incommensurable brutality toward Palestinians.
This strike’s power lies not in disruption for its own sake, but in its ability to reframe the classroom as a space for accountability. By walking out, students challenge the assumption that education is neutral. The strike is a signal to the administration that students will not remain passive when their university invests in mass violence.
Today, Oct. 7, the student body must take the opportunity the strike presents for action—not merely by skipping class, but by participating in protests, having difficult conversations, and staying vigilant, knowing that meaningful solidarity demands discomfort. To faculty, the responsibility is twofold: accommodate students who strike, and stay informed on both student politics and McGill’s financial ties in aiding genocide. And to the McGill administration, the demands are clear: End retaliatory measures against protestors. Divest from weapons manufacturers. Cut ties with the Israeli state. Let this be the last time students must strike for Palestine.
Albania’s new AI minister is begging for failure
students and other faculty. Yet with instructors given relative autonomy in their use of AI, professors must be cautious in using the generative tool in ethical ways, maintain academic integrity and transparency, and verify the accuracy of the AI-informed content presented in their classrooms.
Zain Ahmed, Noah Agne-Richards, Eren Atac, Lachlan DeAtley, Lia James, Merce Kellner, Sofia Kuttner Lindelow, Jenna Payette, Misha Starovoitov Emiko Kamiya, Alexa Roemer, Sophie Schuyler
The introduction of AI into government structures is not unique to Albania; the Quebec Superior Court recently introduced a pilot project empowering judges to use artificial intelligence for research and writing assistance while judging cases. The Court has created 10 distinct robots, each with its own specialty in Quebec law.
As AI grows in prevalence as a tool of institutional modernization, McGill students and faculty members are, too, adopting the technology to accomplish academic tasks. McGill has already implemented AI chatbots from Microsoft’s Copilot system to aid professors in communicating with
While it is tempting to hastily and indiscriminately harness the power of AI for the sake of efficiency and perceived progress, McGill— like Quebec’s courts and Albania’s parliament—must be cautious to protect against the dangers institutional reliance on AI technology poses, principally its struggles with accuracy and thorny questions of accountability that arise when these bots malfunction. Reliance on AI in complex institutional settings risks introducing new complications while leaving systemic issues unaddressed.
In the case of Albania, Dellia represents a shallow attempt to solve the Albanian corruption crisis.
Prime Minister Rama first introduced Diella at a Socialist Party conference on Sept. 11, insisting that the use of AI in the hiring of tenders would help remove bias. According to Transparency International, Albania faces high levels of corruption with a score of 41/100 on the Corruption
Perceptions Index, a problem Rama is attempting to tackle in line with the nation’s goal to join the European Union by 2030. Using AI to achieve high-profile goals may seem to signal Albania’s dedication to being at the forefront of technological progress in the Balkans, but rather testifies to the nation’s reckless disregard for the risks of hyperreliance on AI technology.
Applications of AI in alternative settings reveal the shortcomings of relying on machine learning in highprofile contexts. Studies show up to 40 per cent of companies rolled back AI initiatives in July 2025, voicing concerns over its reliability and serious bug issues. Google’s AI model Gemini was shown to display emotional breakdowns and refuse to finish prompts, with developers admitting they were unable to explain the behaviour and did not understand the model’s response. If Diella were to have the same breakdowns, it could have serious ramifications, such as shutting down infrastructure development in the country or terminating existing contracts and deals.
More worryingly, a recent report found that AI models were even willing to disobey commands
and blackmail prompters if the bots were threatened with shutdown or suspected that they would be turned off. If Diella were to exhibit similar behaviours, the consequences could be much larger than seen in commercial chatbots, as Diella has extensive access to the government’s databases and authorization to give contracts.
AI also has a problem of unintelligibility in its thinking, a phenomenon known as the black box effect. This makes understanding generative models’ actions and decisions almost impossible for users, stirring concerns about controlling AI behaviour. Diella’s motives could be hidden from Albania’s government; Quebec court judges could offer verdicts with nonsensical rationale; McGill communications could be impaired and made incomprehensible. The push for AI integration is too aggressive, and much of its implementation is seemingly more symbolic than practical. As institutions race to appear more technologically progressive, they must resist the temptation to adopt AI merely for prestige or convenience. To be a leader in innovation is not to place blind faith in algorithmic solutions.
Malika Logossou Managing Editor
On Sept. 21, a police officer shot and killed 15-year-old Nooran Rezayi in a residential neighbourhood in Longueil, a suburb of Montreal. Radio Canada alleges the officer pulled the trigger just 58 seconds after arriving on the scene.
At 2:48 p.m., an individual called the police to report a group of allegedly armed people dressed in black in a public area. The first patrol car arrived at 2:57 p.m. Bystanders ostensibly claim that Nooran Rezayi reached into his backpack in front of him to show he wasn’t carrying a weapon, but the officer on scene opened fire twice. The officers attempted CPR and rushed him to the hospital, but they couldn’t revive him.
This type of incident demonstrates the urgency to deconstruct the systemic racism ingrained within Montreal’s police system. Although one police officer is responsible for pulling the trigger, the murder of Nooran Rezayi exposes a violent and deadly chain of systemic targeting and violence against racialized groups. If 58 seconds was all it took for discriminatory assumptions to become lethal, we must confront this pervasive racism at every level: From the criminalizing calls that report, to the officers who respond, to the institutions that investigate these horrific acts.
This escalation can be traced back to the 911 call, which described Nooran Rezayi and
Lachlan DeAtley Contributor
Qhis friends as allegedly armed and dressed in black—language that implicitly signals danger. The dire necessity of this reckoning is evident as even police leadership acknowledges the pattern in how racialized individuals are portrayed in emergency reports. Fady Dagher, the current Service de Police de la Ville de Montréal’s (SPVM) police chief, in a podcast by Sans Filtre Podcast, explained how he recalls receiving calls from individuals saying that there were violent gangs of Black people in an area, and when he would arrive on the spot, he would find youth community members playing games. Examples such as these reinforce how racialized youth are frequently and unfairly perceived as inherently violent and dangerous—judgments that directly shape how officers respond, often with detrimental consequences to the communities they are supposed to protect.
Nooran’s murder exposes two failures: the racialized assumptions that perceive Black and brown youth as threats, and the failure of certain accountability measures. While measures exist and have existed to train officers and promote community engagement, these efforts are undermined when officers seem to face little to no punishment for misconduct. In response to the shooting, the Bureau des enquêtes indépendantes (BEI), an independent unit that investigates cases “where a person other than a police officer on duty dies, is seriously injured, or is injured by a firearm
used by a police officer,” opened an inquiry. However, the BEI rapidly received backlash on social media, including in a recent article in Le Devoir, with many doubting the unit’s commitment to holding police officers on duty accountable for their actions. This is because since the BEI’s creation in 2016, 467 investigations have been opened, with 65 of them resulting in an intervention where a civilian has been killed at the hands of a police officer. The BEI has opened only 2 judicial procedures and has failed to enforce a single criminal accusation or condemnation of any officers involved in these palpable acts of violence and abuses of power. As the investigation continues, the message many communities receive is troubling—officers can target and kill without facing real consequences.
Reform conversations when it comes to policing often focus on withdrawing weapons from police officers, requiring body cameras, or reducing the SPVM’s budget. While these matter, they obscure the fundamental issue, which is that systemic racism doesn’t just live within police departments— rather, it permeates every level of society, shaping
who gets reported as “dangerous,” how officers perceive “threats” to which lives are devalued.
The murder of Nooran Rezayi wasn’t an isolated tragedy or a single officer’s mistake. Real accountability requires more than investigating individual officers—it demands we dismantle the racist assumptions embedded in every stage of this fatal cascade of racism and set the precedent for accountability. Hopefully, this investigation will proceed to its full course, ensuring that accountability is upheld for Nooran—as it should be for everyone.
uebec’s Inter-University Transfer Agreement, or Autorisation d’études hors établissement (IUT-AEHE), is a program that allows students to register for courses throughout the province. An opportunity of this nature is especially valuable in Montreal, the city housing the greatest number of universities in Canada. With McGill and Concordia as an anglophone pair to complement the francophone Université de Montréal and UQÀM, Montreal provides a rich environment for students to take advantage of the IUT-AEHE program and broaden their university experience. However, for the program to take effect, Montreal, the provincial government, and Quebec universities must make it a priority to support it.
The promise of the IUT program is undermined by tensions between anglophone and francophone universities in Quebec—namely, the multimilliondollar deficits at McGill and Concordia; but an inflexibility in the systems of these schools’ departments is just as much at fault. Registration in Concordia’s film production department requires enrollment in the BA program, blocking it off entirely from inter-university students. Likewise, many of McGill’s departments follow a similar policy, preventing students from enrolling in certain classes unless enrolled in one of the department’s programs. The rationale is reasonable, as anglophone universities
in Quebec face budget cuts, and with them, shrinking staff, resulting in lack of space for visiting students in certain departments. But this restricts an important aspect of university: Experimentation in fields outside one’s discipline. As a university without a fine arts department, the IUT program provides a stellar opportunity for students in McGill’s career-focused programs to dip into studio arts. This requires universities to open up their programs to both students dedicated to studying in these fields and experimenters hoping to dabble in the discipline. In part, the value in belonging to a university is in the services provided. While McGill offers its students well-equipped labs, an extensive library collection, and music practice spaces, it lacks facilities to practice studio arts—something that could potentially compensate for the university’s lack of fine arts programs. Access to the resources to practice ceramics, photography, film, or even glass blowing and metal-working—all found at Concordia—is difficult and expensive to organize individually.
While most universities cannot provide students this access independently, given diverging administrative priorities when allocating funding—McGill is more interested in funding research than anything else—the IUT program is a step towards the sort of collaboration between universities that allows students to maximally engage with the exploratory nature of university. However, the restrictions imposed by different university departments are an impasse for this crucial inter-university collaboration, and almost
Through the IUT program, a student at McGill may take up to 6 academic credits at another university in Quebec, such as Concordia. (Mia Helfrich / The Tribune)
nullify its value entirely. Opening programs to other universities would allow students to become more well-rounded and avoid being pigeonholed in one discipline, taking advantage of the window of opportunity that universities ought to provide.
Despite the program’s many virtues, its built-in bureaucratic obstacles—such as the aforementioned registration restrictions— only further complicate a student’s ability to take advantage of its opportunities. A program like this ought to be appropriately advertised to the student body—listed in course registration, for example. Keeping
students aware of this program and encouraging participation is crucial for its existence.
Student participation keeps such programs alive and pushes them to grow; the years at university offer a limited window for the kind of multi-disciplinary immersion that should be central to higher education. Engagement between disciplines and between student bodies is precisely the sort of experience that gives value to university: To walk in many aspects of life. Universities such as McGill must help foster this sort of experimentation.
Lia James Contributor
On Sept. 8th, street artist Banksy unveiled a new mural on an outer wall of the Royal Court of Justice in central London. The mural depicted a judge beating a protester lying on the ground with a gavel covered in blood—a haunting image that sharply criticizes the British justice system. Within hours, officials surrounded the mural with metal barriers, and within 48 hours, they had removed it completely, setting off a debate on the political censorship of art.
In July 2025, the UK government identified Palestine Action, a pro-Palestinian action network founded in 2020, as a terrorist organization. The organization’s ban occurred after activists broke into a Royal Air Force base and impaired two military aircraft. The proscription stated that any individual who was a member of or supporter of the organization would be committing an offence punishable by up to 14 years in prison. In response, the group led a peaceful protest, which resulted in about 900 arrests on Sept. 6th. Banksy’s mural on the Royal Court of Justice did not appear out of nowhere; it surfaced after the waves of arrests that occurred, alluding to the human rights violations and extreme censorship by Britain’s justice system.
The subsequent censorship of Banksy’s mural further illustrates the whole purpose
of street art: Its impermanence. Graffiti and street art are forms of civil disobedience and political activism. Artist Jean-Michel Basquiat began his artistic career as a street artist, addressing topics such as racism and social inequity. Similarly, Keith Haring also started out as a street artist, turning public spaces into urgent commentaries on the AIDS crisis and apartheid.
Many in the elite art scene have described graffiti and street art as ‘vandalism,’ thus devaluing its cultural significance. Yet, contemporary art’s inherent inaccessibility to anyone but the wealthy is what makes street art so important. It pushes boundaries and is accessible to everyone. Banksy likely knew that his mural in London would be removed, but he also knew that the impermanence of his
work would highlight increased censorship surrounding the genocide of the Palestinian people. This makes the removal of the art just as powerful as his original piece.
This is not the first time that Banksy has created art about Palestine. In 2005, Banksy and his team of artists painted seven murals on the West Bank Wall, the political border between Palestine and Israel. This wall and other blockades put in place by Israel have led to strict surveillance on the Palestinian people and have also restricted their movement, making Gaza and the West Bank the largest openair prisons in the world. One of the murals depicts two children creating sandcastles, and above them is an illusion of a broken piece of the West Bank Wall. The broken piece illustrates a beach, creating an idea of a paradise beyond the wall. Banksy faced backlash from the Israeli government for painting these murals, similar to the negative response from the British government.
The censorship of art discussing Israel and Palestine, and the censorship of art in general, limits important discussions which can lead to ignorance on these topics. Freedom of expression is one of the most important features of art, and censorship of public artworks completely disregards the artist’s perspective and intention. Once we are no longer afraid to listen to the opinions of others through creative expression, we can expand our perspectives on crucial political topics.
Noah Agne-Richards
Contributor
In a world where history is painted by the victor, Kent Monkman takes on a personal challenge to tell an equally biased history, one painted by his subversive, heel-clad, hypersexual alter-ego Miss Chief Eagle Testickle.
Monkman, a world-renowned queer and two-spirit artist from the Fisher River Cree Nation in Manitoba, forms his new exhibition, History is Painted by the Victors, around themes of resilience, loss, colonization, and the social ostracization and oppression of sexual and gender diversity.
Monkman crafts the genderfluid character of Miss Chief to be simultaneously hyperfeminine in expression while possessing a commanding masculine authority. Using Miss Chief to explore themes of the artist’s ego, Monkman aspired to mock the colonial-era practice of artists such as George Catlin, who inserted themselves heroically into the battlefields they painted. Monkman places Miss Chief dramatically at the center of each piece, where she comedically seems to always steal the stage.
The humour of her placements and renditions of the colonial narrative bring forth questions of the era’s commonly accepted truths. The exhibition plays with the idea that colonial-era painters were heavily twisting their paintings to fit harmful narratives, such as the ‘Pristine Myth,’ which depicted the pre-colonial West as virginal and uninhabited, as well as that of the ‘Noble Savage,’ which portrayed Indigenous people as a stoic, dying race. These myths fall under the harmful ideas of ‘Manifest Destiny,’
by which colonizers perceived themselves as ordained by God to bravely conquer the western lands they saw as ripe for the taking.
Flipping narratives and channelling the idea of power through sex, the exhibition has the recurring visual of Indigenous men sexually dominating white cowboys against contrastingly serene landscapes typical of settler-colonial paintings. As intended, the scene comes off humorously shocking, but raises a very serious point: The frequent characterization of Indigenous people as a dying race submitting to the conquest of the white man is just as outlandish and fabricated as the scenes and narratives in Monkman’s work.
Thematically, the exhibition presents a whimsical, provocative lens on the key issue of marginalization. Monkman’s work starts with flamboyantly dressed Indigenous Peoples lounging in the serenely depicted Sierra Nevada, poking fun at the myth of empty land prior to European westward expansion; it quickly shifts into the more seriously depicted tragedy of residential schools, police brutality toward Indigenous Peoples, and the violence perpetuated against Indigenous women.
Although Monkman’s work is a narrative of past events and a sombre window into how histories are often mediated, many of his paintings come across deeply hopeful. With
the ambitious goal to ‘decolonize Canada,’ his work is highly popular among young, 2SLGBTQIA+, and university audiences. Monkman creates the refreshing image of a queer, inclusive, Indigenous future; a radical standpoint, as under the colonial vision, many of the communities he depicts were not intended to survive into the 21st century.
Despite its dramatic historical reimagining, the exhibition is not a fabrication of equal falsehood to the myths it counteracts. The sexually liberated and loudly queer characters of Monkman’s image show a genuine window
of Indigenous two-spirit acceptance that was restricted by colonial society. The Indigenous domination of white settlers demonstrates the historic factuality of hundreds of years of anticolonial resistance. History is Painted by the Victors is a vibrant, surreally portrayed truth of who and what have always existed in North America.
History is Painted by the Victors opened on Sept. 27 and runs until March 8, 2026. It is the largest solo exhibition of Monkman’s work, and can be seen at the Montréal Museum of Fine Arts on rue Sherbrooke.
In the soft hours of a pristine morn, mountainous clouds greet the crags of Lake Superior’s rocky coast. A starkwhite reflection of a young sun floats atop the smooth water currents in the tranquil scene. Reposeful rock mounds puncture the wet surface, basking in the forenoon heat, still and untouched amongst their barren landscape. Dim shadows of obscured light rest in the background of blue and pearl-white paint. Canadian painter, Lawren S. Harris, captures the serene convergence of land and sea in his 1920s work, Morning, Lake Superior
The peaceful scene hangs in the Claire and Marc Bourgie Pavilion, the gallery of Quebec and Canadian art at the Musée des beaux-arts de Montréal. Contrasting its quiet blues with the sharp green landscapes or harsh, icy mountains of its neighbouring images, Morning, Lake Superior draws museum-goers
in with its poetic essence. Traversing the first-floor gallery of early Canadian modernism, one can find Harris’s piece beside other works from its artistic school of origin, the Group of Seven.
In the 1910s, the Group of Seven began as an unofficial social group for artistic discussion before being halted by several members’ participation in the First World War. The school of artists reformed after the war and achieved its real celebrity status in the 1920s when they began exhibiting their landscape paintings across the nation.
With sweeping strokes of bold paint, exaggerations of colour and shape, and expressive depiction of the country’s boundless regions, this inventive, modernist visual style was hailed as a uniquely Canadian artistic language. The paintings reimagine the landscapes in romanticized abundance—an elegy to their idyllic fruitfulness and poetic possibility.
These seven artists—Franklin Carmichael, Lawren Harris, A. Y. Jackson, Frank Johnston, Arthur Lismer, J. E. H. MacDonald, and Frederick Varley—are forever cemented as ubiquitous figures in the cultural lexicon of Canadian art.
But in glancing back at these triumphant images, a thrum of cultural absence pounds against the paint-packed canvas. The Indigenous groups who populated and developed these lands are painted out of Canada’s narrative history.
Decades after the formation of the Canadian Confederation, the Group of Seven sought to create a distinctly Canadian style, a physical representation of the country’s burgeoning settler-colonial identity and an assertion of their cultural sovereignty. In expansive portraits of the landscape’s balance of dynamism and repose, this school of artists found this recognizable mode of depiction as an assertion of Canadian nationalism in paint.
However, these romantic, visual odes to the lands upon which the settlers stand, steal, and proclaim independence uphold the ‘Pristine Myth,’ an outdated perception of pre-settlement territories as an untouched wilderness, undeveloped and technologically primitive. The visual lexicon of Canadian landscape art erased Indigenous histories—their dense populations and spiritual connections to the land—while also justifying settler-colonial presence and developments. Indigeneity was painted over in these nationalist landscapes, left to buzz in the periphery of a visual ‘Canadianism.’
This is not to say that the Group of Seven’s artwork intentionally sought to erase the evidence of Indigenous existence, but their impact is clear. Their works were symptomatic of a cultural mythmaking—a fabrication of colonial presence
within the land’s storied past. Though breathtaking, they exist as products of didactic Canadianism that set out to establish ideals of their growing confederation.
With an awareness of harmful language present in the Group of Seven’s landscapes, sinister qualities appear atop the canvas.
Lake Superior, also known as Anishinaabe Gichigami, or ‘Anishinaabe’s Great Sea’ in Anishinaabemowin, has had an Indigenous presence for over 9,500 years. Morning, Lake Superior, though aesthetically stunning and contextually historic, silences the voice of Indigeneity into mere hushes across the canvas. In depicting the landscape as totally barren, the image takes new form, morphing into a scene of colonial violence and a representation of the cultural idealism of systemic erasure. These paintings are simply another mode of colonial, institutionalized control—a visual oppression of Indigenous existence. In denying Indigenous presence, these images continue cultural genocide. It is a visual ignorance of the physical harm inflicted on Indigenous groups in land dispossession. The hum of colonial cruelty only lies dormant until woken by a critical lens.
Distortions of the Historical Narrative
What does it mean to be visually Canadian in the wake of colonial violence and systemic erasure? How does one grapple with the inherent violence of Canada’s art archive?
The visual language of erasure has been a stain on Canadian artwork since the beginning of settler-colonial art production and acquisition. In depicting absence, settler-colonial Canadians preserved the belief that the land was theirs for the taking. Writing Indigenous Peoples out of their history and altering the truth of settler-Indigenous relations became a strategy for dominion and control.
Canadian history maintains that colonial encounters with Indigenous Peoples were peaceful—a diplomatic bestowal of land granted as a gift to a nation of new immigrants. This epistemically violent belief revises the history of the 19th and 20th-century Numbered Treaties: Indigenous Peoples actively took part in the legislation for land cohabitation, and were then misinformed about the signed legal documents, which agreed to their dispossession of the land and subsequent physical displacement. The institutional learning spaces of museums—houses of history—have continuously perpetuated this myth of gifted land and legislative subordination, remaining ignorant of any depiction of violence in the settler-colonial strive for land possession.
Reilley Bishop-Stall, assistant professor of Canadian
Art
and Visual Culture at McGill, who specializes in the art production of Indigenous and settler histories, spoke with The Tribune about this culture of representation.
“Indigenous Peoples were dispossessed of the land, liberty, and territorial rights,” Bishop-Stall said. “The extensive collections of Indigenous cultural materials in museums across the globe cannot be detached from the history of salvage anthropology and the belief that Indigenous Peoples were destined to ‘disappear.’”
This distortion of representation was a strategic process of elimination and a propagation of Indigenous disappearance for the justification of settler-colonial land development.
Historically, the acquisition of Indigenous art was often intertwined with the violent narratives of this systemic displacement. Artworks were often looted and stolen in the process of land dispossession. Not only does the existence of these pieces in museums preserve harsh
narratives, but these art objects were, for a time, the only trace of Indigenous presence in the Canadian museum.
The distinction of these works as ‘artifacts’ rather than ‘artworks’ harkens back to the Canadian institution’s control of the Indigenous historical narrative and the concept of ethnography, a scientific method for outlining the cultural and social customs of peoples. This classification and the lack of contemporary artworks by Indigenous Peoples instill in the Canadian public a perception of Indigenous existence as something historical—an artifact itself.
“We were always portrayed as people of the past, relics of the past,” Celina Yellowbird, the Curatorial Assistant of Indigenous Cultures at the McCord Stewart Museum, said in an interview with The Tribune. “Everything was setting us up as if [...] we’re no longer existing today.” Indigenous histories in the Canadian museum were recorded by violent colonialists, resulting in homogenizations, misrepresentations, and systemic erasure of artistic provenance. The lack of provenance—the recorded origin of an art object—led to a flagrant grouping of all Indigenous art together, instead of classifying each work as a creation of the distinct cultural, spiritual, and artistic practices within each
EDITOR
EDITOR
val disparities present in American museums. Western hegemony over the objects in the museum archive has preserved a distorted account of Native histories. Just as Canadian museums are working to dismantle colonial history, American institutions have worked to uncover modes for proper representations of Native art histories.
Rosie Clayburn Katri, a Tribal Historic Preservation Officer in California, works directly with federal institutions and groups to further rectify the systematically silenced past of Native peoples. She highlighted the importance of respectful methods for exhibiting Native art in museum spaces.
“It’s consent. [....] You have to have the full consent of the com-
tribe. This results in an ethnographic othering of Indigenous Peoples—a process of both exoticization and an enabling of systemic inequalities in the museum space. Looking at the Canadian museum feels utterly disconcerting in the context of its colonial past.
Amending Misrepresentation in the Museum
Contemporary curatorial practice and institutional self-criticism have led to progress in the decolonization of museum spaces.
In 2015, the Truth and Reconciliation Commission (TRC) of Canada published its final report, outlining 94 Calls to Action for the Canadian government to amend its colonial and contemporary wrongdoing through reconciliation and protection of Indigenous Peoples. The 67th Call to Action directly addresses these institutional misrepresentations, stating, “We call upon the federal government to provide funding to the Canadian Museums Association to undertake, in collaboration with Aborig - inal peoples,
tion’s accompanying video piece features interviews with Indigenous spokespeople of Quebec, platforming their experiences alongside their artworks.
Amplifying the archival voice of those systematically censored throughout history, the display of Indigenous objects by Indigenous curators and tribes reformulates their presence in the Canadian museum.
“The museum’s voice is really not visible. All of the texts [on the museum walls] are written in the ‘we’ form,” Lainey said, describing the permanent exhibition. “So it’s us. This is what ‘we’ are. This is what ‘we’ went through. It’s the voices of Indigenous people.”
munity and to be working with actual First Nations governments,” Clayburn Katri said.
Providing platforms and creating agential positions for Indigenous and Native people to interact and reassert their presence in the foundationally colonial space is absolutely necessary. Indigenous histories must be told, this time, in the original voice of the land. Allowing access to these archives for interaction is fundamental to healing the reverberations of colonialism.
It is the role of the museum to dehistoricize the language of Indigeneity, to provide space for exhibiting contemporaneous Indigenous art practices alongside historical pieces.
That does not mean all museum reconciliation work is complete. The sheer existence of art objects in the museum is a symptom of colonialism that still requires addressing.
a national review of mu- seum policies.”
Now, the practice of Indigenous art curation has taken steps towards creating a dialogue between the museums and the Indigenous tribes represented in their archives.
In conversation with The Tribune, Jonathan Lainey, the Curator of Indigenous cultures at the McCord Stewart Museum, said, “The major change is that now Indigenous Peoples have more room. We give them more space to actually tell their own story, their realities, their voices.”
The McCord Stewart Museum’s permanent Indigenous art exhibition, Indigenous Voices of Today: Knowledge, Trauma, Resilience, was curated in conversation with the tribes from which the dis- played artworks originate. The exhibi-
Repatriation is another important method for institutional decolonization. The question of object ownership looms over museum institutions today; though in many instances, due to the altered or unrecorded provenance of Indigenous objects through regional generalizations—such as ‘North’ or the ‘Plains’—repatriation is a highly complicated process of return. By breaking down the walls of the museums and inviting Indigenous groups into the archive collection, work can be done to identify and address these gaps in information.
The weaknesses and disparities of the archive are not solely a Canadian issue. Having been raised in northern California, I have witnessed firsthand similar archi -
“Reclaiming our identity and asserting ourselves in the museum is also getting hands-on access to these items, and being able to look at them and relearn our way of life,” Clayburn Katri said.
As a public, it is our duty to critique a history preserved by those in power. We have to change the way we look at art and the methods for display. We cannot take down settler-colonial art pieces; we should instead reframe and recontextualize them.
In every museum we walk through, we must apply a critical lens to the practices of displaying artworks. We can still look at the work of the Group of Seven as an important contribution to modernist painting styles. However, we cannot ignore its colonial undertones and textual language of erasure. History belongs to everyone, but it has long been told by those in power. It is everyone’s job to identify and dismantle the systems that perpetuate distortions of Indigenous existence.
Jamie Xie Staff Writer
On Pure Heroine’s twelve-year anniversary, Lorde was reborn a Virgin at Montreal’s Bell Centre. After a four-year hiatus since Solar Power, she arrived incomplete and half-made, perpetually becoming—an invitation to get ready with her—for one tender night of confessional pop.
Discussing her fourth album, Virgin, Lorde told Apple Music: “Everything was pure possibility. That first sound feels like it’s coming from a very guttural place in my body.” She continued, “My sister said ‘it sounds like it’s coming from your womb,’” hinting at the intimate inspiration behind the Ultrasound Tour’s title.
“Hammer” opened the electric performance under a flickering ray of light that gradually expanded, carving the stage into Lorde’s enveloping spotlight. Drawing from her 2023 experience coming off birth control, the song explores the impossible task of repeatedly discovering beauty in something as mundanely familiar as one’s own body—a process familiar to artists who reinvent themselves each album cycle.
Since then, she has spoken openly about her struggle with premenstrual dysphoric disorder. Displaying her intrauterine device (IUD) on the x-ray album cover, she described it as “a photo of yourself that you don’t love but captures something true about you.” The concert merchandise reinforces a promise of vulnerability, including stripped-down, clear CDs. While visually striking, some failed on laser-based
players, underscoring the tension between euphoric transparency and artistic performance.
In a Rolling Stone interview, Lorde described ovulating for the first time in a decade as a profound moment of clarity where she recognized a disconnect between herself and conventional “regulated femininity.” It felt like a permission to inhabit her body fully. In “Supercut,” Lorde enacted this revelation, running endlessly on a treadmill, only to struggle and ultimately surrender; concession is a universal language, and her fragility is transformed into power.
“I felt incredibly alone, always,” Lorde said in concert, “I sang from that place over and over and this year of my life is really making it hit home for me.”
This struggle is reflected through her accompanying performers. “Favourite Daughter” became a seamless pas de deux between Lorde and technology. Close-ups of Lorde interwove with sound booth and backstage footage, breaking the fourth wall to reveal the meta-machinery at the heart of the concert. In “Broken Glass,” two contemporary dancers revisited the eating disorder Lorde confronted during Solar Power—one convulsed on the floor as the other took bites of apples. Years earlier, she had tried to make herself smaller; now she allows herself to take up space, intertwining the physical act of liberation into the expansion of selfhood and gender.
Performed live with her chest bound in duct tape, Lorde’s “Man of the Year” exemplifies Virgin’s thesis of self-discovery and transformation as she questions what it means to be a woman—or not. In an interview with Roll-
ing Stone, she said, “I’m a woman except for the days when I’m a man.”
Lorde has long toyed with gender fluidity, beginning with her stage name: Chosen at sixteen, ‘Lorde’ feminizes the masculine ‘lord’—a playful commentary on the role of gender in aristocratic power.
At the emotional precipice, Lorde—visibly moved—addressed the crowd during “Liability”’s musical prelude: “We’re the freaks, you know. It’s always surprising to me that we get the big room on a Saturday night. [....] All these people have something in common, which is so beautiful and increasingly rare. To have an hour and forty-five minutes worth of anything in common with this many people, it’s beautiful.”
In “David,” Virgin’s outro, Lorde wandered through the crowd in a radiant mirrored suit. Echoing, “Am I ever going to love again?” she refracted not just the light but the audience’s emotional gravity. On the stage screen, footage of her past self from the concert’s opening flashes in superimposition, a haunting overlay of the memory of who she was
and who she has become.
Dissolving back into the crowd at the end of the night, the Ultrasound Tour makes clear that Virgin isn’t a return to naive innocence— it’s an act of surrender, a willingness to become something unrecognizable.
“There’s a violence to making these big changes sometimes.”
Armen Erzingatzian Photo Editor
The main floor of the market consists of overpriced souvenir shops and a few artisanal stores, visited mostly by tourists. It feels disconnected, fake. However, on the ground floor, facing de la Commune street, you will likely experience something more honest and engaging than in any other museum, monument, or exhibition in Montreal.
This year, the World Press Photo Expo returned to Marché Bonsecours for its annual exhibition. World Press Photo, celebrating its 70th anniversary this year, is an independent non-profit that aims to deepen understanding of the world’s complexities, promote dialogue on overlooked topics, and inspire action through photojournalism and documentary photography. The non-profit holds an annual contest and exhibits the winning photographs in over 80 locations worldwide.
The diversity and scope of the exhibition blow its audience away. It showcases the work of 42 photographers from 30 different countries, representing all corners of the world and centring a vast range of identities. The exhibition masterfully directs attention to the subjects and their stories in stand-alone photographs, such as Samar Abu Elouf’s portrait Mahmoud Ajjour, Aged Nine—which won World Press Photo of the Year—and photo series such as Protests in Georgia, by Mikhail Tereshchenko. These images tell tales of resilience, resistance, war, pain, love,
politics, and climate change. Some draw their power from the scene’s beauty, while others capture the raw emotion of their subject. The best do both.
Through Ebrahim Alipoor’s Bullets Have No Borders, visitors walk with kolbars—border carriers—through the mountains of Iranian Kurdistan. These labourers carry heavy goods on their backs from Iraq and Turkey into Iranian Kurdistan under harsh conditions for little pay. The Iranian state’s marginalization of Kurdish people and the ensuing unemployment in Kurdistan leads many to pursue this line of work, deemed illegal by the Iranian government, putting them at risk of being shot by security forces and border patrols. Yet, many kolbars see this activity as legitimate, as they feel ties to Kurds across the Iranian state borders—boundaries that they do not acknowledge.
Alipoor, like many other photographers at the Expo, tell accounts that escape mainstream media, providing his audience with a more intimate and emotional narrative than traditional media can offer. The gentle smiles and soft camaraderie of the kolbars lie in stark contrast with the harsh, blinding light and the ragged, cracked rock of the Kurdish mountains. Warmth emanates from the photographs despite the lack of colour.
In Maria, photographed by Maria Abranches, we follow Ana Maria, a resident of Lisbon, Portugal, throughout her daily activities as a carer and domestic worker. At the age of nine, Ana Maria was trafficked from
Angola under false promises of education. Abranches wields natural lighting to create a vignette that surrounds Ana Maria and her possessions across a series of five images, creating the illusion that light radiates from her. She has found warmth and comfort in her occupation in a world that has mistreated her.
While many photographs convey pain and trauma, they are not restricted to those experiences. A common thread that ties the stories together is fortitude, strength, and compassion. It’s found in the subtle act of resistance of Afghan women dancing to music in their home, in the crowds of Bangladeshi and Kenyan youth rising against oppression and
corruption, in the hands of healthcare workers and family members tending to an injured Palestinian boy lying on the hospital ground, and in the eyes and the collaboration of Eritrean women who tend to each other in the face of pain, trauma, and loss.
The photographs exhibited in Marché Bonsecours act as windows into countless realities and draw out empathy, admiration, and anger from viewers, fueling discussion and inspiring action, just as World Press Photo aspires to do.
Consult the critical and self-aware guide provided by the Expo for more reflection and visit before October 13th.
Nell Pollak Managing Editor
On Sept. 29, I had barely joined the cheers celebrating the passing of the Motion to Strike for Divestment from Genocide through the Students’ Society of McGill University (SSMU) General Assembly when SSMU Chair’s harsh voice cut through the crowd: “Decorum, decorum!”
The call for order echoed a contradiction at the heart of McGill and SSMU’s Sept. 4 joint statement, announcing the reinstatement of the two groups’ Memorandum of Agreement (MoA), which McGill attempted to terminate following a three-day strike for Palestine the previous spring. They proclaimed a “commitment to uphold students’ rights to freedom of expression and peaceful assembly,” before issuing an “unequivocal condemnation” of any protest involving disruption of “teaching, learning, research, and other core academic activities.”
The insistence upon ‘decorum’ wasn’t just about noise; it was a command that each expression of collective power—or even shared exultation—remain palatable to those who hold authority over us. Therein lies McGill and SSMU’s shared message: Activism is tolerable, but only if it’s placid, convenient, and ignoreable. It is duplicitous to champion free expression and decry disruption in the same breath. One does not exist without the other, at McGill or anywhere else.
The university’s rhetoric—whether in statements, legal filings, or codes of conduct that further criminalize student activism— imposes an infantile vision of what protest is meant to accomplish. Effective protest has never been about making people comfortable or ensuring that business continues as usual. And no permitted protest or political plea will satisfy McGill when the quintessence of our demands lay bare the complicity behind the ‘core academic activities’ our university aims to shield from scrutiny.
Our calls to action strike at the very core of McGill’s moral authority. Severing research partnerships with Tel Aviv University—an institution that developed the Dahiya doctrine justifying disproportionate military force against civilians. This includes ending the Sports Adams Science Institute’s partnership, financed largely by self-declared ‘Israel ambassador’ Sylvan Adams, who has openly encouraged more murders of Palestinians and called for McGill to expel students opposing
genocide. Terminating study abroad programs at Hebrew University—a centre for weapons research and military technology development that normalizes illegal occupation. Divesting from weapons manufacturers like Lockheed Martin and Thales—investments McGill capitalizes upon with our student tuitions through fund managers. These demands expose the university’s willing entanglement with violence. The truth is that no form of protest will make the administration comfortable with that reckoning, no matter how prettily it is packaged, orderly it is arranged, or quietly it is laid out.
This is the confine of moderation that McGill wishes us to incarcerate ourselves within, implying that some imaginary middle ground exists where we can politely and quietly ask McGill to extract itself from complicity in genocide, and they’ll simply agree. Moderation serves to prolong inaction. What compels change is a visionary, unyielding alternative.
While administrators would like to convince our community that disruptive protests only serve unproductively to polarize, McGill’s own history contradicts this. In 1985, student activists forged a pathway for McGill to become the first Canadian university to fully divest from apartheid South Africa, after years of sustained and contentious protest. Today, McGill proudly references this pioneering moment, while effacing the charges and criminalization students endured in forcing this change—celebrating the result while erasing the resistance.
Lost in McGill’s condemnation of protests
is the democratic deficit that necessitates disruptive action in the first place. Students passed divestment policies through the SSMU in 2022, 2023, and 2025 with over 70 per cent majorities—each blocked by the administration. They organized hunger strikes and alternative campus tours. They established a 75-day encampment; McGill responded with aggressive dismantlement. Following a threeday student strike last spring, McGill sought out court injunctions banning protests within five metres of buildings that criminalized “excessive noise.” When activism is suppressed, disruption becomes an increasingly necessary tool for democratic participation, stripping away what institutional routine normally obscures.
The sanitized version of campus life McGill seeks to maintain—where learning occurs in pristine isolation from the moral urgencies of our time—represents a bleak imagination of education’s transformative potential. Disruption is not an unfortunate side effect of protest that can be remedied by joint statements that celebrate expression while condemning its exercise; it is itself the mechanism through which change is wrested from power. And perhaps that’s the education McGill fears most: Its students discovering that power yields not to polite reason but to unflagging pressure, that institutions change not when persuaded but when the status quo becomes untenable. Disruptive action is necessary to shift reality when order is causing inordinate harm; maybe the most vital lesson we can learn on campus is that we have the capacity to rupture it.
NEWS news@thetribune.ca
Indigenous leaders, students, and community members reflect on the lasting impacts of residential schools through speeches, land-based activities, and art
Eren Atac Contributor
McGill’s Faculty of Education hosted its seventh annual Skátne Entewathahíta/We Will Walk Together event on Sept. 30. The event, held on Canada’s National Day for Truth and Reconciliation, included speeches from various Indigenous leaders, a land-based activity, and a tour of Indigenous art on public display at McGill.
The event began with opening remarks from Geraldine King, assistant professor in the Department of Integrated Studies in Education (DISE) and co-director of McGill’s Office of First Nations and Inuit Education. King emphasized the relevance of Canada’s residential school system as an ongoing issue, rather than an event of the past.
“It’s a day of honouring what’s happened [...] to not only our ancestors, but folks in my own generation who, in fact, attended residential schools,” she said. “I want everyone to acknowledge that this isn’t a part of history. It’s not an artifact. It’s not archeology, looking into what happened in the deep past. This is, in fact, very present and very real.”
The next speaker was assistant professor Michelle Kennedy, part of DISE’s Contract Academic Staff. She spoke on the importance of supporting Indigenous family and friends, and being educated on their struggles with the
residential school system.
“Often, a lot of people who attend residential schools die fairly young,” Kennedy said. “I didn’t get a chance to really know my grandparents [who attended]. I spend a lot of time asking my relatives what they were like. That’s a really odd question to ask, but you have to do research about your family members, and often I find what comes out are the hardships that they experienced.”
Robert Spade, Anishinabeininii dancer, artist, and professor at McGill’s Schulich School of Music, then took the floor. Spade challenged those in attendance to find their origin stories as a way to connect with their ancestors and the past.
“Find your creation story. Do not be colonized,” Spade stated. “If you today do not have your creation story, where you’re from, [if] you don’t have that connection, you were robbed. Think about that. I have mine. Sure, they beat me in a school. They ridiculed me for speaking my language. But I have my place in the universe. Today, I am grateful for life, because nobody knows where that’s from or how to make it.”
AJ Esquega, Energy Projects Coordinator from the Kiashke Zaaging Anishinaabek (Gull Bay) First Nation, gave further remarks. He highlighted Indigenous food sourcing practices as central not only to Indigenous cultural identity, but also to community well-
being, including for later generations.
“[I want] to create a very positive space so that we can all live and grow and take care of each other and the land for future generations,” Esquega said. “I’ve been growing up on the bush, not knowing that’s part of who we are, too, hunting, fishing, trapping, and learning how to field-dress a moose, [...] how to cook it, and how to feed our communities and feed our families.”
Following these opening remarks, Esquega hosted a land-based activity which included birch bark etching, crafting decorative wooden canoes, and tasting birch syrup. He continued to emphasize the importance of these exercises as a way to connect with Indigenous culture, recalling how he learned them firsthand with his grandfather.
Approximately 30 students attended the land-based activity. One Métis attendee, Franny Hansen, U3 Nursing, explained in an interview with The Tribune that the National Day for Truth
and Reconciliation is a time to honour Indigenous ancestors who endured residential schools, and to reclaim the culture they were denied.
“It’s really important for me on Truth and Reconciliation Day to remember [that] I have ancestors, my great grandparents, that went to residential schools,” Hansen said. “So it’s really important to reflect and remember all the children that [had] their culture stripped and taken away, due to colonization, due to residential schools, and to celebrate the culture that they weren’t able to celebrate.”
Gregor McCall Student Life Editor
We live in unprecedented times. As we continue our education in the university system, it is impossible not to notice the rising tide of ethnonationalism, fascism, colonialism, xenophobia, white supremacy, radical misogyny, and anti-2SLGBTQIA+ ideologies. For the past two years, we have witnessed Israel’s relentless genocide and ethnic cleansing of Palestinians in Gaza, a campaign intensified by the IDF’s recent ground invasion of Gaza City, and the detaining of activists aboard the Global Sumud Flotilla. At the same time, the ideologies of right-wing extremists have entered the mainstream, seizing control of online political content and attracting thousands to rallies in cities and university campuses across Canada and the United States. This comes at a time when social media makes us witnesses to these atrocities in real time, while simultaneously amplifying the ideologies driving them. Moreover, institutions meant to serve as forums for free speech and dialogue intensify their suppression of protest and outcry, as demonstrated by McGill’s recent court filings to subdue on-campus demonstrations. True, hateful sentiments, extremist ideology, and genocide are not new in the annals of history, but never has the world been as it is now. Never before have we been caught in the intersection of these forces. In the face of rampant oppression, we must ask ourselves what we ought to do.
Who are ‘we’ and what, precisely, can we do? As tuition-paying undergraduate students, we are all members of the Students’ Society of McGill University (SSMU), our student union, as well as our facultyspecific student societies. These associations represent our interests to the McGill administration, both at the undergraduate and wider-university level. Students, then, are a collective. As a collective, we have the power to shape and influence on-campus culture, decisions, and activities. But only if we share a commitment to change.
Kit Carlton, U3 Arts, emphasized that compassion is key in acts of protest.
“Solidarity, to me, is about standing
with your fellow man—people, who, even if you don’t have the same experiences, showing empathy for [them] and standing for them when maybe they can’t stand up for themselves.”
In April 2025, hundreds of students passed a motion for SSMU to enact a student strike in protest of McGill’s investment in companies complicit in Israel’s genocide of Palestinians in Gaza, leading to a historic three-day demonstration which drew conflict between students and the university administration. This culminated in McGill’s attempt to terminate its Memorandum of Agreement with SSMU, as well as criticisms of both parties involved. Such a
Tamiyana Roemer Student Life Editor
As Israel continues its genocide in Gaza, it remains critical that students support the Palestinian people’s struggle for freedom. Central to this struggle is the Boycott, Divestment, and Sanctions (BDS) Movement, which uses global economic and cultural pressure to challenge systems of occupation and apartheid. This strategy allows consumers to take meaningful action with every purchase; each choice is intentional and impactful. To help you participate effectively and uphold your commitment to boycotting, The Tribune has compiled a list of responsible alternatives to companies targeted by the BDS movement.
McDonald’s
The BDS National Committee calls for a global boycott of McDonald’s, citing its support for the Israeli Defense Forces (IDF) through providing free meals and displaying complicity on its social media channels. The boycott is intended to put pressure on the company to sever ties with its Israeli franchisees for supporting genocide, and on its Malaysian franchisees for targeting and attempting to silence solidarity activists. For those looking for alternatives, Burger Bros on St.-Laurent offers juicy burgers, generous milkshakes, Lebanese poutine, and a
wide range of halal options at affordable prices. Open as late as 3:30 a.m. on Fridays and Saturdays, it’s a solid choice for late-night fast food you can actually feel good about.
Coca-Cola’s Israeli franchise operates in illegal settlements and its subsidiaries profit from occupied land, making the company complicit in war crimes under international law. If you want to support a local, ethical alternative, look no further than Zamalek. Inspired by the vibrant Egyptian hibiscus tea karkadé, Zamalek offers multiple flavours from cola to hibiscus ginger. These refreshing canned drinks are available throughout the city—from supermarkets to restaurants. Beyond great taste, Zamalek’s partnerships reflect solidarity, from backing fundraising efforts for a family within the Gaza strip to sponsoring the Copa Palestina tournament. For another great option, consider supporting Salaam Cola the next time you’re eating out. From Mintar to Pumpui, restaurants all over the city stock this ethically-sourced cola, which pledges 10 percent of profits to charities supporting Palestine.
Domino’s Pizza
Domino’s Pizza stayed silent when its branches in Israel supported genocide and donated to the IDF. For those looking
drastic measure from the administration exemplifies our power as a collective. When we act together in solidarity, we have an undeniable impact.
Acting as a unified body is especially imperative to help protect our fellow students who are most vulnerable right now. Students on campus have faced violence and intimidation from increased security presence for their activism.
“My friend [was] tear-gassed protesting for Gaza last October 7th,” said a student protester who wished to remain anonymous. Another student, who preferred to remain anonymous, added, “A lot of Indigenous students, Palestinian students, and Arab students don’t feel safe on campus right now. They don’t feel like campus represents their interests or their lives, even, and they feel threatened by the policies that are being enacted by McGill, so it’s important to stand in solidarity with them, especially.”
The forces we are up against are great, but together, we are not small. When we bear witness to hate, oppression, and systematic cruelty to any vulnerable group, we must act together. We must take every opportunity we can to make our voices heard, to cry out that these are transgressions against human rights that we will never tolerate. Not now, not later, not ever. This is the meaning of solidarity. It does not matter how hard badfaith actors try to tear us down. When we are united in good faith, we shine brighter than the darkest forces and stand taller than the highest mountains.
to support local alternatives, Fugazzi Pizza operates in multiple locations across the city. Fugazzi is known for its 12-inch artisanal pizzas, starting at just $11 CAD. The menu includes a well-priced lunch special featuring a pizza and drink for $11.95, ideal for a quick and satisfying midday option. Fugazzi also offers two combo deals that provide added value for those dining with others or looking to keep meals affordable. In addition to quality ingredients and creative flavours, choosing Fugazzi means supporting a local business that isn’t tied to international chains complicit in human rights violations.
Reebok
Reebok sponsors the Israel Football Association, which includes teams based in illegal settlements built on occupied Palestinian land. For a local alternative, Lolë is an activewear brand that offers functional clothing for physical activities like yoga and running. Founded in
Montreal, this label also offers outerwear suited for the city’s unforgiving winters. Additionally, the company emphasizes sustainability: Lolë utilizes recycled plastics in its production processes, reducing the environmental impact of its products. Major brands like Reebok can be tempting because of their wide availability and heavy promotion, but Lolë has several locations in the Montreal area, allowing for a convenient—and ethical—shopping experience.
Leanne Cherry Science & Technology Editor
To describe Palestine’s current healthcare system as anything less than devastated would be a mischaracterization. According to United Nations (UN) experts, the Israel Defense Forces (IDF) are systematically targeting and destroying hospitals, Israel is blocking external aid and resources, and famine is taking the country by storm. In such a crisis, effective global health diplomacy (GHD)—when countries work together to shape health policy and ultimately improve health outcomes—is absolutely crucial if there is any hope of rebuilding what has been lost.
In a recent paper published in BMJ Global Health, Mohammed Alkhaldi, a researcher affiliated with McGill University with extensive experience in global public health policy, shed light on GHD—or lack thereof—in Palestine. In their commentary, Alkhaldi and his collaborator, Dr. Maidah—an international practitioner of public health and a GHD and security advocate—outline how standard approaches to GHD must be adapted to fit chronic humanitarian crises like Palestine’s. They also explain why GHD has, so far, failed Palestinians.
“GHD has failed because it has no teeth,” Maidah wrote to The Tribune. “Ceasefire talks get vetoed, humanitarian corridors are too short-lived, and accountability mechanisms don’t exist. In the meantime, the toll is generational [with] children growing up with amputations, untreated cancer patients dying in silence,
[and] entire communities carrying trauma. The healthcare workforce is exhausted and leaving when they can. The long-term impact? A broken system that will take decades to rebuild, even if peace were to arrive tomorrow.”
Maidah and Alkhaldi note six different dimensions of GHD which need to be adapted to appropriately suit the needs of Palestinians.
The first is a constructive negotiation process, which should prioritize reaching a ceasefire deal and creating safe zones rather than playing political chess. Second, for effective governance structures to thrive, Palestinian leadership must be prioritized rather than sidelined by donors. Third, coalitions should aim to create South-South solidarity; countries like Egypt and Pakistan have similarly had to overcome sanctions and blockades, and are thus well-versed in building resilience during trying times. Fourth, Palestine must be permitted to engage in partnerships that foster agency amongst its citizens, as opposed to treating Palestinians as mere recipients of charity. Fifth, healthcare responses must take a holistic approach. It is not enough to simply ship medical supplies; the system must be rebuilt as a whole. And finally, GHD must be implemented as a means for peace and safety. Without these adjustments, GHD will continue to be incapable of making a tangible difference to Palestine’s overall healthcare system.
Maidah further exposed the devastating consequences of letting political agendas take precedence over human lives.
“We’ve seen GHD work elsewhere, such
as days of tranquillity in Sudan for vaccination, corridors in Syria for medical aid,” Maidah wrote. “In Gaza, hospitals are bombed while the world debates semantics. The difference is that here, occupation and blockade are not temporary backdrops; they’re the chronic condition. Diplomacy isn’t just failing to deliver but it’s complicit in allowing international law to be ignored. That’s what makes Palestine so painfully unique.”
Maidah reiterated the importance of global collaboration that prioritizes Palestinian leadership and agency.
“[The World Health Organization] WHO and UN bodies are important, yes, but they can’t be the only voices,” Maidah wrote. “Regional actors and Global South countries need to step up and not just [send] aid, but [push] for political accountability. And above all, Palestinian health professionals must lead. The ultimate goal is not another round of short-term supplies. It is guaranteeing safe, sustained healthcare access. In plain words the patients should be able to walk into a hospital and know
it will still be standing tomorrow.”
GHD must prevail in Palestine, for failing to act undermines the legitimacy of the entire framework.
“Palestine is the litmus test of global health diplomacy,” Maidah wrote. “If GHD can’t protect hospitals in Gaza, then the concept itself risks becoming meaningless. We need to stop treating Palestinian health as charity and start treating it as justice. Health is not neutral in this context, it’s political, and unless GHD confronts that, it will continue to fail the very people it was meant to protect.”
Sofia Kuttner Lindelow Contributor
Are there risks in enforcing ethical boundaries in the context of psychotherapy? This question arises when considering how and why ethical red tape becomes cemented into clinical practice, especially in regard to the client-psychologist relationship.
Dennis Wendt, associate professor in McGill’s Department of Educational & Counselling Psychology, and director of the Cultural and Indigenous Research in Counselling Psychology (CIRC) lab, tackled this dilemma in a recent study published in American Psychologist. The paper critically examined the
traditional ethical stance on ‘multiple relationships’ (MRs) in psychotherapy, arguing that the prevailing, individualistic, risk-averse approach is often unfit for diverse communities.
In counselling settings, MRs arise when a professional therapeutic relationship coincides with a secondary relationship, such as a friendship, business relationship, or any other personal connection to the client. Such dual relationships raise reasonable concerns around client confidentiality, power imbalances, conflicts of interest, and similar ethical concerns. As a result, professional ethical codes ban them, and industry norms reinforce this prohibition. However, in an interview with The Tribune, Wendt shared deep-rooted reservations around these ethical frameworks that lack solid scientific backing.
“The idea that therapeutic relationships are better when they’re distant, I’ve long been suspicious of that,” Wendt noted.
The paper highlights compelling testimonies from racialized practitioners, exemplifying the real-world dangers of imposing the Western ethical frameworks uniformly. One of these testimonies came from Tanya McDougall, an Indigenous practitioner who was prohibited
from assessing a young relative struggling during COVID closures. The paper showcases where ethical ‘protections’ can act as a barrier to accessing important mental health support, especially in remote and underserved areas where access is already limited.
Mawdah Albatnuni, a Muslim psychotherapist, echoed similar sentiments, explaining why clients benefit from placing their therapist within the social-religious map. Hard partitions feel inauthentic and stigmatizing of spiritual practice. MRs aren’t a slippery slope; rather, they are the on-ramp to care in communities where therapy is stigmatized and credibility is relational, not purely credentialed.
Lastly, Payton Bernett offered a 2SLGBTQIA+ perspective. As a trans clinician active in Montreal’s tight-knit 2SLGBTQIA+ recovery spaces, Bernett emphasized that visibility within the community is essential for signalling shared vulnerability and protection. With these testimonials, the authors contend that community-centred care and interconnected relationships are important for trust and support, showing how rigid prohibition of MRs may be more harmful than protective in some communities.
“Rigid rules can actually make us careless about the specific dynamics in front of us,” Wendt said. “It’s just lazy ethics.”
To begin this process of systematic reform, the paper proposes applying a communal selfhood lens to promote decolonial and liberation psychologies. This includes shifting the ethical frame from an individualistic, riskaverse ideology to one that prioritizes community welfare and aligns MR decisions with
antiracist and anticolonial commitments. It also means moving from presumed ‘objectivity’ to critical hermeneutics—accepting that some closeness and community engagement can surface lived contexts of oppression and rebalance power.
“Who decides?” Wendt asked. “Too often, these are top-down rules from regulatory bodies that don’t reflect the communities being served.”
This question of who actually draws these boundaries remains. Navigating these ethical boundaries is nuanced and complex, and removing the one-size-fits-all approach invites difficult questions.
Wendt argues, “We need to bring community voices to the table and let them help shape those boundaries and practices.”
In practice, the paper supports a gradedrisk approach: If an overlap is low-risk, noncoercive, and clearly helpful, name it, and document it with the client. Policies would move from blanket bans to a simple contextbased checklist, taking into account power dynamics, client preferences, service scarcity, and a transparency plan.
Ultimately, Wendt and others ask whether the minimization of MRs in clinical contexts can, in and of itself, be ethically questionable. In minority groups, and even in the population at large, understanding the self as embedded in community instead of existing in silo may be the key to improving access, trust, and credibility. By stripping down the dogmatic thinking around client-practitioner relationships, we can take sure steps towards democratizing and destigmatizing care.
Malika Logossou Managing Editor
If you have done any scrolling recently, whether on TikTok or a news feed, then you have likely seen that U.S. President Donald Trump claimed that using Tylenol during pregnancy can be “associated with a very increased risk of autism” in children, and that it is “not good.” His statement shook the medical world, with Health Canada quickly rejecting his assertion due to a lack of conclusive evidence.
To investigate why his claim is misleading, The Tribune spoke with Joe Schwarcz, director of McGill University’s Office for Science and Society and professor in the Department of Chemistry. He explained that while some studies suggest a link between autism and acetaminophen—the primary active ingredient in Tylenol products, as well as many other over-the-counter (OTC) and prescription medications—the evidence remains limited.
“There certainly have been studies that have shown a link,” Schwarcz said. “Now, these are what we call observational studies, which can never prove a cause-and-effect relationship. You just look at a population, you look at some variables, and see what you can [...] make of it.”
He pointed to an alternative explanation for this link, highlighting instead the role of genetics. He noted that autism has a strong hereditary component, with inherited genetic variations contributing to its prevalence.
“The more likely explanation is that people who have a greater risk of giving birth to
autistic children are also people who are more likely to take acetaminophen during pregnancy,” Schwarcz said. “People who are somewhere on that spectrum are more sensitive to pain and are more likely to pay attention to it, and therefore are more likely to take a painkiller like acetaminophen during pregnancy. So, it is very possible that if there is a link, as is suggested, it is not because [of] acetaminophen.”
Schwarcz also noted that existing research demonstrating a link between autism and acetaminophen faces many limitations.
“It’s very difficult to get proper statistical information from people about exactly what they have done during pregnancy,” he said. Additionally, acetaminophen appears in many other medications, making surveys for data collection in research often inaccurate.
“Acetaminophen is the active [ingredient] in Tylenol, but many people may not know that, so that if they are asked, ‘Have you taken Tylenol?’, they’ll say no, but they may have taken one of the 600 other medications with a different name, which also contain acetaminophen,” Schwarcz said. “Or they may have taken a generic version of acetaminophen, or they may have taken some other drug that they think is acetaminophen. So these kinds of surveys are notoriously unreliable.”
Schwarcz further expanded on how Trump’s official announcement urging pregnant people to avoid Tylenol except under drastic conditions is harmful. Referring to Tylenol instead of acetaminophen signals out the brand’s marketing reputation, as other medications contain the same active ingredient. Moreover, acetaminophen is the safest
OTC medicine in pregnancy to relieve fever and pain.
“High fevers and pain during pregnancy can cause a miscarriage. It can also result in kidney problems in the baby, and improper formation of the cerebrospinal fluid [....] Telling someone that they should grin and bear it, you know, when they’re pregnant, is absolutely the wrong advice,” he said. “You cannot, in pregnancy, use non-steroidal antiinflammatory drugs, you can’t use Advil, you can’t use aspirin. The only one that you can use is acetaminophen, and it is very effective at reducing [elevated fever] temperatures.”
Untreated high fevers and pain during pregnancy pose serious potential risks to the fetus, meaning that better advice would be to use acetaminophen when one feels pain. Additionally, medications administered during pregnancy will include warnings advising pregnant individuals to consult a medical practitioner first. They exist to ensure the safety of both the parent and the developing fetus.
Therefore, fact or fiction: Does Tylenol consumption cause
autism? Science shows it does not. While a small correlation exists, it is minimal and likely linked to other factors, not the active ingredient in Tylenol, acetaminophen. However, framing autism as a “dangerous outcome” to the point where individuals should avoid taking Tylenol places a stigma on people who have autism. President Trump’s claim reinforces harmful stereotypes, devaluing the experiences and identities of people with autism by portraying autism as something inherently negative or undesirable.
Sarah McDonald Science & Technology Editor
The effects of climate change are increasingly visible around the world, but nowhere are these impacts more observable than in the Arctic. The region’s temperature is rising at over two times the global average—a phenomenon that has devastating impacts on natural ecosystems. As the ice melts, it destroys natural habitats, allowing for increased human presence in areas that were previously undisturbed.
In a recently published paper, McGill Professor Rowan Barrett in the Department of Biology analyzed DNA methylation—a biological process that regulates gene expression—to assess how anthropogenic activity—environmental changes caused by human activity—impacts wild Arctic seabirds.
“We’ve been interested in trying to get additional perspectives on both lethal and sub-lethal effects of these kinds of pollutants, and one way of doing that has been through epigenetic responses,” Barrett explained in an interview with The Tribune “So these are responses that aren’t changing the genetic code of the organism, but they’re making changes to the genome that we can measure, that we can study.”
The researchers’ study compared the epigenetic responses of Arctic seabirds—
black guillemots—from four different sites, each with varying degrees of both pollution and human presence. The first location was in Postville, Nunatsiavut, on the site of a 3000 L crude oil spill; their second site was an area with high levels of shipping traffic, yet no direct contamination. Their third site had minimal human activity, but natural oil was present; and their fourth site was a reference site, selected for its minimal human presence and lack of natural oil seeps.
“So we assayed these epigenetic responses from birds from these four different sites, and we had two broad questions,” Barrett said. “One was whether or not the anthropogenic sources of oil differed in their impacts from the natural sources of oil. And then the next question is more of a timescale question. How do chronic, long term effects of oil, so this would be from the natural seeps and also from the places where there’s increases in shipping traffic, compare with the oil spill?”
The researchers collected liver samples from black guillemots across the four different sites. Their DNA was then extracted, and methylation patterns were analyzed. Results confirmed that there are measurable differences in the genetics of birds that experienced any kind of oil-related stress.
However, while all birds exposed to oil had common methylation pattern changes, not all changes were common.
“There’s sort of a consistent response
that we see in the genome through these epigenetic tools, but it differs between the natural and the anthropogenic sources of oil. So the particular type of response, that epigenetic response, differs in these two types of sites,” Barrett explained.
This highlights not only the scale of the impact of human activity on natural populations—human presence is literally changing animals’ genetic codes —but also provides further insight into the genome.
“This is very exploratory, this work, but now we can look into precisely what functional or physiological mechanisms are triggered by these epigenetic shifts, what are they leading to in terms of the whole organism response,” Barrett said.
Some of the genetic changes Barrett’s data highlighted had to do with fat storage and circadian rhythm regulation. These small changes can have long-lasting, sublethal effects. Birds need certain fat stores in order to migrate, but oil exposure limits birds’ ability to create these fat stores, which ultimately influences their migration patterns. Moreover, even if birds are able to build up the necessary fat storage,changes in their circadian rhythm regulation impact when they are ready to migrate.
Barrett’s work is fundamental in the field of epigenetics: It provides a critical window into the specific functions of various genes, as well as the ways that these functions are limited and impaired by dif
ferent types of oil pollution.
“We’re making discoveries that are important for understanding the role of epigenetics in genome evolution and basic ecological and evolutionary questions, while at the same time generating information that’s useful for government partners and communities,” Barrett said.
Redbirds ice hockey Legacy Game in northern Quebec championed Indigenous pride on the National Day for Truth and Reconciliation
Merce Kellner
Contributor
The National Day for Truth and Reconciliation on Sept. 30 is a day of profound grief as the country remembers the violence the Canadian government and churches inflicted on Indigenous children in the residential school systems they ran. But it is also a day that celebrates Indigenous heritage. This celebratory aspect is exactly what Redbirds Hockey forward Mikisiw Awashish, a member of the Innu community in Mashteuiatsh, Quebec, wanted to emphasize and share with his teammates.
Awashish had the idea to plan a match, called the Legacy Game, to commemorate reconciliation and his heritage through hockey. The Redbirds played the contest in Mashteuiatsh, some 450 kilometres north of Montreal, against the Université du Québec à Trois-Rivières (UQTR) Patriotes. The game was an exciting reunion for the two sides, who met in the Ontario University Athletics East quarter-finals last February. While the Redbirds fell to UQTR 5-2 in the Legacy Game, the match was tied going into the third period, making it a suspenseful and exciting watch for those in attendance.
In an interview with The Tribune , Awashish spoke about the spark behind his vision for the Legacy Game.
“[I first had the idea] three years ago.
It was exactly on September 30th,” he explained. “I thought at the time [this day] was missing something.”
Awashish was inspired by Redbirds hockey legend Francis Verreault-Paul, who is also from Mashteuiatsh. Verrault-Paul, who was inducted into the McGill Athletics Hall of Fame in 2023, deepens the connection between McGill’s Legacy Game and the Mashteuiatsh community, as the match foregrounds the accomplishments of another local legend with ties to the university.
Hockey has always been an integral part of Awashish’s life. He spoke to how the game plays a central role in Indigenous communities like Mashteuiatsh.
“In my hometown, especially in northern Quebec [and] in Indigenous communities outside of Montreal, hockey is the main sport,” he said.“My dad played hockey, all my friends played hockey, [...] we had Indigenous tournaments that we [went] to, and the rink was [always] packed.”
While the Redbirds travelled to Mashteuiatsh to play the Legacy Game, they also went to experience Indigenous culture and meet with Awashish’s local community. The team participated in collaborative learning experiences organized by Awashish, from hosting a youth hockey event to sharing a meal that included beaver, geese, and moose—a first-time experience for many of Awashish’s teammates.
“It was very well welcomed by them,
which was humbling, [and] they have my trust now because I opened my culture to them and they enjoyed it,” he reflected.
The visit was packed with memorable events, but one moment stood out as the most meaningful to Awashish: On the morning of game day, both UQTR and McGill players met survivors of Canada’s residential school system.
“There was a ceremony,” Awashish explained. “Three survivors of residential schools were there. [....] They [recited] passages in the Innu language, and we were all there gathering behind them in support. One of them was really saddened by [the] memories. [....] Even though [my teammates] could not understand what [the speakers] were saying, they could feel it. To be able to share that with them was special.”
Ahead of a long year of hockey and travel, the time the Redbirds spent in Mashteuiatsh provided moments of gratitude and reflection that went far beyond the rink. Awashish shared not only his culture with his teammates, but also a life-changing experience that brought the team even closer.
“They will use that experience [...] for the rest of their life. [This] was also the goal of the trip,” Awashish reflected.
With the Legacy Game being the Redbirds’ final pre-season match, the regular hockey season now begins at McGill. The Redbirds will play their home opener on Oct. 8 against crosstown rivals, the Concordia University Stingers, at McConnell Arena.
Mary Spencer, Angela Chalmers, Reginald Leach, and Bryan Trottier bring both Indigenous cultural pride and excellence to sport
Alex Hawes Silva Staff Writer
Indigenous Peoples across North America have a long history of athletic excellence, with games such as lacrosse, canoeing, and snowshoe racing forming the foundation of many Indigenous cultures and communities. These sports were not only competitions, but also core actions that held spiritual, social, and practical significance for the Indigenous Nations in which they took shape. Today, Indigenous athletes continue to make their mark on the world stage, excelling in a range of sports, from the ring to the arena.
Figures like Mary Spencer, a three-time world champion boxer, Angela Chalmers, an Olympic medalist in track and field, Reginald Leach, a Stanley Cup champion and legendary hockey goal scorer, and Bryan Trottier, a Hall of Fame hockey player who won multiple championships, embody the strength, perseverance, and skill that are rooted in generations of Indigenous athletic excellence.
Mary Spencer, a member of the Chippewas of Nawash Unceded First Nation, has become one of Canada’s most accomplished boxers. She began her athletic career playing basketball, but when she stepped into a boxing gym as a teenager, she discovered her true passion. Spencer went on to dominate women’s boxing on the international stage, earning three world titles and competing at
the 2012 London Olympics, where women’s boxing made its Olympic debut.
Beyond her athletic achievements, Spencer has been a role model and mentor for Indigenous youth, using her platform to promote empowerment, confidence, and the importance of chasing one’s goals. Her success story represents not only her personal dedication, but also the growing representation of Indigenous women in sports.
Angela Chalmers, from the Birdtail Sioux First Nation, is one of Canada’s greatest middle-distance runners. She came into the spotlight in the late 1980s and early 1990s, representing Canada at multiple international competitions; at the 1992 Barcelona Olympics, Chalmers won bronze in the 3,000 metres, becoming the first Indigenous woman to receive a medal in track and field on the Olympic stage.
Chalmers’ victory was not just personal but historic, as it marked a milestone in visibility for Indigenous athletes. She continued her streak of successes by winning gold at the 1994 Commonwealth Games in Victoria. Chalmers’ career stands as a powerful example of Indigenous athletes breaking barriers and inspiring future generations.
Reginald Leach, a member of the Berens River First Nation, had a legendary career in the National Hockey League (NHL) during the 1970s and 1980s. Nicknamed “The Riverton Rifle” for his powerful shot, Leach became one of the league’s highest goal scor-
ers. His biggest achievement came in 1975, when he helped lead the Philadelphia Flyers to a Stanley Cup championship.
A year later, Leach made history by winning the Conn Smythe Trophy as the NHL’s playoffs’ most valuable player, becoming one of the few athletes to do so from a losing team. Leach’s success was especially meaningful given the barriers Indigenous players in Canada face in professional hockey. He has since dedicated himself to mentoring youth and promoting hockey in Indigenous communities.
Bryan Trottier, of Cree and Métis heritage from Saskatchewan, is widely regarded as one of the greatest hockey players in NHL history. Playing primarily for the New York Islanders, Trottier helped the team capture four consecutive Stanley Cup championships from 1980 to 1983. Over his career, Trottier scored more than 1,400 points to earn a spot in the Hockey Hall of Fame.
In addition to his remarkable hockey career, Trottier has always spoken proudly about his Indigenous roots, empha-
sizing the importance of representation and identity in his sports journey. After retiring as an NHL player, Trottier has continued to contribute to the game as a coach and mentor, ensuring that his athletic and cultural legacies extend to future generations.
Together, Mary Spencer, Angela Chalmers, Reginald Leach, and Bryan Trottier exemplify the incredible talent, resilience, and cultural pride of Indigenous athletes, who both further and commemorate a long lineage of Indigenous excellence in sport.
Jenna Payette Contributor
The McGill Redbirds lacrosse team claimed their fourth consecutive win in the annual Legacy Game series, defeating the University of Ottawa Gee-Gees 13-9 on the evening of Sept. 30. Nearly 600 fans stood witness to the highly entertaining match-up at Percival Molson Stadium. While the scoreboard reflected another strong Redbirds performance, the Legacy Game carried a significance far beyond sport.
Held annually on Canada’s National Day for Truth and Reconciliation, the Legacy Game honours survivors of the residential school system and commemorates children who never returned home from these schools, promoting awareness of Canada’s history of violence against Indigenous Peoples and ongoing reconciliation efforts. For McGill, the game has become a way to blend athletics with thoughtful reflection, paying tribute to the Indigenous roots of lacrosse—the Creator’s Game.
The evening opened with inspiring remarks from Kanien’kehá:ka (Mohawk) Elder and Akwesasne Lacrosse Hall of Famer Mike Kanentakeron Mitchell, celebrated for his steadfast dedication to advocating for the rights and welfare of the Mohawk Nation and Indigenous communities at large. He reminded the crowd that lacrosse is more than competition: It is medicine, a gift from the Creator, and a way to resolve disputes without violence.
From the opening whistle, the Redbirds
came out firing. Fourth-year attacker Rowan Birrell started their scoring, followed by tallies from midfielder Torsten Blodgett and attacker Zach Page. Page dazzled with a behind-theback goal before adding two more to complete a first-quarter hat trick. By the end of the opening frame, the Redbirds held a commanding 6-1 lead.
Ottawa, however, refused to retreat. The Gee-Gees battled back with three quick goals in the second quarter, capitalizing on a brief lull in McGill’s energy. By halftime, the Redbirds led 9-5, but momentum was shifting.
Halftime featured a performance from Kanien’kehá:ka artist DJ Pøptrt, who blended Mohawk sounds with contemporary electronic music, creating a lively atmosphere that emphasized Indigenous creativity and resilience.
McGill regained control in the second half of the match, sparked by Page’s fifth goal and a steady performance full of crucial stopping from goalie Henry Komosa. Admittedly, Komosa also had some luck on his side, as Ottawa struck the Redbirds’ goalposts an impressive seven times during the game. Blodgett added two more goals in the final minutes to seal McGill’s 13-9 victory. Despite Ottawa attacker Julien Belair’s stellar six-goal performance, the Redbirds improved to 6–1–0 and claimed the top spot in the East Division of the Canadian University Field Lacrosse Association.
Redbirds head coach Nicolas Soubry, who is in his final year with the program, reflected on the importance of this game for his team in an interview with The Tribune
“We’ve been able to team up with McGill Athletics and the Office of Indigenous Initiatives to create an event that focuses on letting Indigenous voices speak and share, whether that’s a point of view, an anecdote, or even music,” Soubry said. “We’re lucky to play, but the bigger focus is learning and community.”
For Soubry, the Legacy Game is always about more than the scoreboard result.
“No matter what we do in the season, once we get to this point, it’s about winning this game,” he shared. “But more importantly, it’s about honouring the game by working hard.”
In an interview with The Tribune, Benjamin Buzby, U3 Management student and Redbirds defender, highlighted a key turning point in the match.
“A big faceoff win from Luke Nickel, then a selfless play dumping it off to Page for the goal, that was a good moment,” Buzby described. “It got the boys fired up.”
Midfielder Preston Norris, U2 Economics, emphasized the team’s unity during the game in an interview with The Tribune
“From the defensive side, watching the offence move the ball really well as a unit and put it in the back of the net was huge,” Norris
stated. “It reassured the whole team.”
Now in its fourth year, the Legacy Game has become a cornerstone of McGill’s Indigenous Awareness Weeks, aligning sport with the work of reconciliation. The handcrafted celebratory lacrosse stick awarded to the winning team stands as a symbol of community and respect for the sport’s Indigenous roots.
As fans filtered out of Molson Stadium after yet another Redbirds win, what lingered was not only the scoreline, but the sense of honouring something much larger. Lacrosse, at its core, heals through every movement, nurtures connection, and brings communities together.
While Team Europe’s historic lead paved the way for a 15-13 victory, fan behaviour at the Cup stole headlines
Zain Ahmed
Contributor
For the second straight Ryder Cup, Team Europe lifted the trophy, fending off a late Team U.S.A charge to claim a 15-13 victory at Bethpage Black Golf Course in Long Island, New York, on Sept. 28. But as grand as the tournament’s golfing was, it will more likely be remembered for the chaos that ensued outside of
its ropes than for the play within.
Europe entered the Sunday singles with an 11.5–4.5 advantage: The largest ever European lead heading into the final day of the Cup. The margin reflected an underwhelming American start. Several U.S. players looked out of rhythm in Friday’s foursomes, and the pairing strategy from captain Keegan Bradley was widely questioned. By contrast, the Europeans— led by veterans Rory McIlroy of Northern Ireland and Jon Rahm of Spain, and boosted by Ryder Cup rookies Ludvig Åberg of Sweden and Nicolai Højgaard of Denmark—capitalized early to build what proved to be an insurmountable lead.
Still, the Americans mounted a spirited response on Sunday. Wins from Scottie Scheffler, Brooks Koepka, and Xander Schauffele decreased the U.S.’ deficit, briefly stirring hopes of a comeback. But crucial halved matches, most notably Rahm’s clutch birdie on hole 18 to tie Scheffler on Friday and
McIlroy’s steady play in singles, ensured Europe would not relinquish its vise on the competition.
If the golf itself offered high drama, the galleries offered something darker and more sinister. Reports of abusive fan behaviour escalated throughout the weekend. Rory McIlroy, Europe’s golfing heartbeat, was taunted repeatedly and eventually snapped at spectators before a Saturday shot. Hours later, McIlroy’s wife, Erica Stoll, was struck by a drink hurled from the stands. In his post-match comments, McIlroy condemned the atmosphere as “unacceptable,” adding that “golf should be held to a higher standard than what was seen out there this week.”
These Ryder Cup incidents have reignited debates about how fans should toe the line between passion and politeness. Unlike other sports, golf traditionally cultivates an ethos of etiquette. The sport demands silence on swings, applause after shots, and pleasantries all around. The Ryder Cup, however, has long been an outlier with its corresponding orchestra of chants, jeers, and perhaps misdirected patriotism sparking the event with palpable electricity. The 1999 Ryder Cup at Brookline is infamous for the unruly American fans in attendance that day, while European venues have also faced criticism from visiting teams and their players for their disruptive crowds in past years.
What makes Bethpage’s scenes particularly concerning is their rapid escalation from threats to physical harm. While players have grown accustomed to verbal heckling, the sight of a family member being targeted is a sobering reminder of how quickly things can turn dangerous.
The evidence suggests, however, that this is not a uniquely American issue. European fans have had their own lapses, though the size and fervour of U.S. crowds, particularly in New York, reportedly magnify tensions. Ultimately, the Ryder Cup’s future rests on whether golf’s governing bodies can channel the passion brought to the Cup into pride rather than malice.
In continuing the development of golfing competitions at this scale, regulators and tournament organizers face the delicate task of preserving the Ryder Cup’s raw intensity without compromising player safety. Options range from stricter alcohol sales policies to heavier policing of crowd conduct.
For now, though, Europe basks in another triumph. They have won 11 of the last 14 Ryder Cups, reinforcing their dominance in golf’s fiercest rivalry. Yet as much as McIlroy and his teammates celebrated their win, his sharpest words about the tournament were reserved for the galleries. “Sometimes this week we didn’t see [respect],” he said. “So no, this should not be what is acceptable in the Ryder Cup.”