Saturday, June 25, 2016

Shoes of Evil, the damned and the lucky ones

On June 13, 2016, under the title: “Egypt, Forty-One Months Later,” the New York Times published excerpts from a book that was written by an Egyptian woman named Yasmine El Rashidi. The title of her book is “Chronicle of a Last Summer. A Novel of Egypt”.

This being a novel, and there being no indication as to how much of what's in the excerpts is real and how much is fiction, I must reassure the readers that what follows is the truth as I recollect it almost half a century later. I am telling my story at this time because I'll never have a chance as timely as this one to illustrate so vividly the contrast that exists between two cultures – that of ruthless men and that of cowardly boys.

Here is the passage in Rashidi's account that prompted me to write my story: “A man … had walked towards them. I had noticed his shoes. They were familiar shoes. Shoes we saw a lot. Shoes of the undercover police. They were pointed, with a ledge.”

And here is my story. At some point during the mid-1960s and the end of the decade, I was taking a night course in the humanities at York University in Ontario. The professor was John Harney who was also a member of the New Democratic Party (NDP), and he happened to be running for the leadership of the party at the time. I was also working full time, and the union to which I belonged had a close relationship with the NDP. And so I managed to convince all of our delegates to vote for Harney at the convention that was held later in the year.

Perhaps, out of his sense of duty, professor Harney felt it necessary to warn the entire class that because he is a member of a party considered to be Socialist and accused of sympathizing with the old Soviet Union, we may all go under the surveillance of the Royal Canadian Mounted Police (RCMP). He didn't say electronic surveillance because he didn't know about it at the time. But he told us we'll recognize an RCMP agent by the shoes he wore. They will always be clean, he said, and they will always shine. He didn't say anything about them being pointed or having a ledge.

I did not worry about that because I was more annoyed by something else. I had received a visitor from a member of the Canadian Jewish Congress who had invited himself to my house for the purpose of warning me that I must stop writing letters to the editor … or the practice will get me into trouble. I did not stop writing but the editors stopped publishing my letters undoubtedly because he had visited them too.

What the editors did not do, however, was stop circulating my missives among themselves inside the loop – they who were the elites of the establishment. Thus, each time that I sent a piece of writing to one of them, they engaged in a “mining” orgy like a pack of starved hyenas scavenging on the carcass of a game that had succumbed to the hunting skills of a more powerful predator.

And then it happened that an editor of a major Toronto newspaper told me I was under the surveillance of the RCMP. To make certain I got the point, he told me about the furniture I had in my apartment, and the books I had on my shelves as described by those who were breaking into my apartment and taking note of everything in it. Over the years, I repeatedly complained to my Members of Parliament (MP) and asked for action to end this child-like madness. The trouble was that the MPs were themselves so terrified of the RCMP; they did not want me to call on them again. That's when it dawned on me that I was living in the most cowardly police state ever to have existed. What made matters even worse was that each time I contacted a Member of Parliament to complain, the RCMP would visit me at home or at work, or would tell me to report to a designated place, or to their headquarter. I met them – always two officers at a time – who listened to my complaint and assured me that I had nothing to worry about because I was clean like a whistle.

But why can they not end the surveillance and leave me alone? That's when they went mum. When I displayed anger at the fact that information about me was circulated among all those who wanted to hurt me and did, one of the officers would talk about people being so desperate they committed suicide. It is as if they suggested I should do the same. And there was a time when they hinted that it was the Jews who had me under surveillance. This turned out to be half the truth. In fact, I later befriended several individuals in the media and outside of it, who were in the loop, who knew some of what was going on, and were telling me.

It turned out the RCMP and the Jews were working together, harassing the Arabs – be they Christian or Muslim – to prevent them from participating in any activity that would raise their profile and give them prominence. That's because the Jews did not want competition, and the RCMP were terrified that something like this article would go out and tell the world what it's like to live in a Canadian style police state.

It was also confirmed to me that both the Jews and the RCMP wanted me to get so desperate, I would commit suicide or engage in activities so stupid, I would be arrested. The police would then use the event to justify their lifelong harassment of me, and their destruction of the life I was meant to live but never did because they blocked me everywhere I knocked at a door – be that in Canada or outside of it.

Talking to an editor I once befriended, he would console me by saying that I should consider myself lucky because in America the undercover police normally ransack the apartments they break into before leaving. I wonder what he would say to console Yasmine El Rashidi, considering that the lucky ones are those who live in Egypt, whereas the damned ones are those of us who live on this wretched continent.