When I’m prescribed a new medication, one of the first things I do (besides going to the pharmacy to fill the prescription) is look on forums and websites to see potential side effects of the medication — places like the r/bipolar subreddit, patientslikeme.com, and the section of the medication’s wikipedia page dedicated to the possible side effects, how frequent they are, and their severity. The most common side effects tend to be drowsiness and weight gain, but something that is perhaps more concering than clinicized symptoms is the continuous mention, over and over again, of a stifling of creativity due to medications.

Many people worry that medications made to treat mental illness will drain their creative juices, leaving them unable to create or perform the way they once did. This is something that I have struggled with, as well. Prior to my diagnosis and the chaos that is university life, my camera was basically attached to my hand; I wrote fairly frequently; I listened to music almost non-stop. But between a lack of time and a lack of inspiration, the things that I once considered integral to who I was became little more than a passing thought on most days.

But between a lack of time and a lack of inspiration, the things that I once considered integral to who I was became little more than a passing thought on most days.

However, after finding a medication which works for me, along with a regular regimen of cognitive behavioural therapy, my love of art and creation began to come back. Without the debilitating exhaustion caused by depressive episodes and the whiplash-inducing speed with which I veer from topic to topic while hypomanic, I am able to create much more consistently. Why, then, do I occasionally wish for just a little bit of heartbreak, a little extra sadness?
There are plenty of cultural references, both modern and historical, to feed the “tortured artist” trope. Many accomplished artists led lives shrouded in sadness: Jim Morrison, Janis Joplin, Jimi Hendrix, Kurt Cobain, Amy Winehouse, and the rest of the members of the “27 club,” for example, which have been a topic of discussion since Kurt Cobain’s death in 1994. Over the past several years, the suicides of Robin Williams and Chester Bennington have caused increased discussion surrounding the treatment of mental illness.

This is not, however, a modern invention. The phrase poète maudit, meaning accursed poet and associated with writers living “outside society,” often resulting in early death, was popularized in the 1800s. Edvard Munch, who painted “The Scream” in 1893, suffered from anxiety and hallucinations. Vincent Van Gogh was known for his attempts to poison himself by eating paint and drinking turpentine. Virginia Woolf filled her overcoat pockets with stones and walked into the River Ouse. Lord Byron once said, “We of the craft are all crazy. Some are affected by gaiety, others by melancholy, but all are more or less touched.”

Popular science has elaborated on this correlation: there are countless articles, and even books, about the relationship between mental illness and creativity. A 2012 study from researchers at the Karolisnka Institutet claims that creative professionals are eight per cent more likely than the general population to be bipolar, and writers in particular are 120 per cent more likely to be bipolar. A 2015 study by researchers from a biological research company called deCODE genetics claims that “creatives” are 17 per cent more likely to carry genetic variants that increase the risk of bipolar disorder or schizophrenia than non-creative types. However, others question these claims: Scott Barry Kaufman, a psychologist at the University of Pennsylvania, says that “any particular set of genes is only going to explain a very small part of variation in any psychological trait.”

Research shows that there may also be a link between an artist’s personal life and how their art is evaluated. This has been coined the “eccentricity effect” by Wijnant A. P. Van Tilburg, a researcher at King’s College London. In a 2014 study, Tilburg et. al. found that when they created a fictional Icelandic artist named Jón Stefánsson, evaluation of Stefánsson’s art was more positive when a short introduction noted that “on the personal level, Jón Stefánsson is often described as very eccentric.” In a separate cohort of the same study, Tilburg showed photos of Jón Stefánsson — in the “low eccentricity condition,” the man is dressed ordinarily and has short hair; in the “high eccentricity condition,” the man is skinny, with half-long hair combed over one side of his head, wearing a black shirt and vest. The perceived eccentricity had a significant positive effect on the evaluation of Stefánsson’s art.

The pressure to appear interesting in order to be taken seriously as an artist, or even as a person, can be overwhelming to anyone attempting to form a sense of style — in my experience, this is compounded when trying to recover from mental illness. In my teen years, while my peers were developing a constructive sense of self, I was frankly struggling to stay alive. There is a phenomenon known as “identity moratorium,” where an adolescent in crisis is unable to make a commitment to roles or values which form an identity, and this was definitely true for me. When entering treatment, I found that so much of my sense of self was wrapped in self-destruction and mental illness that I did not know who I was or who I could become. A desire to go to art school further complicated this, as I felt that being healthy and happy would detract from the valorized “interesting” persona. This took multiple years of therapy to overcome, and is a thought that still plagues me during particularly difficult times.

In therapy, I now discuss how to do things that are both “good” and “right.” Often we do things that are good ó they make us feel better, they bring us comfort — and wrong. Things at this intersection can include anything that goes against one’s own set of morals. For me, this has included self-harm and substance abuse. Art can be good and right, or good and wrong, or even bad and wrong. Art therapy exists for a reason, and the simple act of creation can be transformative. Countless artists, myself included, take this to an unhealthy extent, torturing themselves for art, because it is said that the best art makes you feel something, and it is often easier to put pain on paper than joy. It is my contention that it is not necessary to feel this pain in order to create something meaningful, and that the world (and art) would be better off if more people believed that happy people can still make eloquent, even sad, art.

Countless artists, myself included, take this to an unhealthy extent, torturing themselves for art, because it is said that the best art makes you feel something, and it is often easier to put pain on paper than joy.

A 2009 meta-analysis by Mark Davis, a researcher at the University of North Texas, found that a “positive mood enhances creativity.” In addition, “those in the creative professions [are] no more likely to suffer from psychiatric disorders that other people.” In my experience, happiness (or even just contentedness) and creation can and do overlap. When I think of the years that I lost to mental illness, I mourn the me that could have been — a me that was more able to take and edit photographs, rather than laying in bed for days on end, a me unafraid to try new media (I’ve always wanted to try sculpting), a me with more harnessable energy, rather than energy that seems to only channel itself into destruction. In periods of stability, I am infinitely more able to create, and I wonder how my art could have grown if I had had the consistency that untreated bipolar disorder has stolen from me. If I had been more confident that recovery was the right direction for me, I could’ve avoided so much pain and suffering.

My greatest fear about this discussion is that the trope of the tortured artist leads to the creation of real tortured artists, as it has become so deeply ingrained in popular discourse that artists just aren’t happy. If they are happy, they’re not just happy, they’re eccentric; there’s no room to be both a regular, well-adjusted person and an artist. I’m not saying that artists should attempt be forced to happiness. I am saying that they should have the option to do so, and still be taken seriously as an artist.

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What is coral?

When you think of coral, you probably think of an interestingly shaped rock, right? Wrong. Coral is actually a marine animal in the phylum Cnidaria, which also includes jellyfish. Much like jellyfish, corals start their lives as minuscule organisms called polyps; as they develop, the polyps secrete calcium carbon ate, a mineral compound also composing the shells of sea snails, oysters and mussels. This mineral layer acts as a protective exoskeleton, as well as bonding the individual polyps together, ultimately forming what we know as coral. As more and more corals, often as different types, connect skeletons, they form large units that are referred to as coral reefs, the most famous of which is the Great Barrier Reef.

The Great Barrier Reef is unique both for its size and biodiversity. Larger than the size of Italy, it is composed of 2,900 individual reefs and 900 islands. Thirty species of whales, dolphins, and porpoises, over 1,500 fish species, seventeen species of sea snake, six species of sea turtles, and countless more organisms consider the Great Barrier Reef as their home – many of these species are endangered, and some are endemic to these reefs.

The reefs and climate change

When we think of climate change, we rarely think of the oceanic wildlife. We think of polar bears, the melting ice caps, and rising sea levels, but not what’s going on underneath the sea. However, there are two major outcomes of climate change that are devastating for marine life: increases in oceanic acidity, and increases in water temperature.

The process of ocean acidification begins with the accumulation of atmospheric carbon dioxide, which then dissolves into seawater. This leads to the formation of carbonic acid, which lowers the pH levels of the oceans, making them less hospitable for marine life. The increase of sea temperatures indirectly has a similar effect on coral through what is called ‘coral bleaching.’ Both of these outcomes are devastating for coral reefs. More acidic seawater will wear down existing corals, as well as slowing down new growth; increased temperature results in coral bleaching. The marine algae and coral have a symbiotic relationship – the coral provides the algae with a safe home, and the algae provides up to ninety per cent of the coral’s energy, which the coral then uses to grow and reproduce. When a coral is stripped of this algae, it starves and ceases to be able to grow and reproduce, further contributing to the reef’s decay.

In recent years, the health of the Great Barrier Reef has been steadily declining. Since the Industrial Revolution, ocean pH has dropped from 8.2 to 8.1 – while this might seem like a minute change over hundreds of years, the pH acidity scale is logarithmic, so this variation actually represents a thirty per cent increase in acidity. This March, Australia’s National Coral Bleaching Task force reported the most severe bleaching on record: 93 per cent of all coral reefs were affected – even the hardiest species had turned completely white. While the state of the Great Barrier Reef is disconcerting, anything but total death is reversible, and some corals are particularly resilient. If the temperatures which cause coral bleaching revert to their normal levels, algae can return to their coral homes, and corals will feed, grow, and regain their normal colour. They will experience stunted growth and increased susceptibility to disease for a time, but they will not necessarily die.

More acidic seawater will wear down existing corals, as well as slowing down new growth; increased temperature results in coral bleaching.

Ocean acidity is also not a sure mark of death. Some coral can use bicarbonate rather than carbonate ions to create their exoskeleton; as bicarbonate concentration increases as oceans acidify, this substitution can then serve as a buffer to the weakening effect of acidification on coral exoskeletons. Some coral are also adapted to a wider range of pH’s, while some can even survive without a skeleton and restore their exoskeleton once a comfortable pH is reached.

The Great Barrier Reef ’s future

Although it is not likely that the pH of the ocean will rise back to what it used to be, or that the average temperature of the Earth will decrease, if these factors are kept from worsening further as much as possible and additional stressors such as pollution and overfishing are mitigated, the Great Barrier Reef will survive. Ocean acidification can be lessened by decreasing atmospheric carbon dioxide levels, something we can all contribute to by having a smaller carbon footprint. Driving less, using a more fuel-efficient vehicle, taking the bus, biking, or walking are all great ways to do this, as are using eco-friendly fluorescent light bulbs, unplugging your devices when they’re not in use, and buying local products. While the effects of climate change are severe and often irreversible, it is important to realize that changing our habits in order to be more environmentally friendly can have an impact; it’s not too late for the Great Barrier Reef, so we shouldn’t give up quite yet.

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However, not only are maps often grossly inaccurate in terms of the relative size of different regions, but geographical boundaries are often disputed than they might seem to those who have received education in North America, a region which has not had a major change of boundaries between sovereign states since 1949 – long before most of us were born. Looking at national border changes since World War I, it is clear that this hasn’t been the worldwide norm. The changes within Europe, Africa, and Asia have not only been more numerous than those in this part of the world, but also more significant.

While those of us whose knowledge is largely based in a North American context may think of these changes (due to their presentation as historical fact, rather than an ongoing dispute) as cut-and-dried, they often aren’t: many boundaries are still being contested. The way that these boundaries are depicted, both verbally through education and the media, and visually through maps and globes, shows the relations between the countries involved in the dispute, as well as how global communities view the disputed area. One of the most visible ways this manifests is in Google Map depiction of disputed boundaries.

On Google Maps, disputed boundaries are shown by dashed lines, rather than by the solid lines which are usually used to indicate the borders between two countries. This came to mainstream attention earlier this summer, when Google was accused of deleting the label for Palestine on its Maps (Google later stated that there had never been a Palestine label, but a bug had caused the labels for the West Bank and Gaza to disappear, which was rectified later). The boundaries between the West Bank and Israel, and between Gaza and Israel, are displayed by dashed lines. These dashed lines recognize that the boundaries between these territories are not nationally or internationally agreed upon.

This is not the only way in which Google attempts to remain impartial on the issue of what it calls “sensitive borders.” When you search for a country which has had historically well-defined, undisputed borders, Google highlights the border in red, and overlays a translucent red highlight over its territory. In the summer of 2014, however, Google treated 32 countries differently: when searched, they were either simply zoomed-in on, or the red Google pin was placed somewhere within their territory. Now, eight of those countries (Albania, Georgia, Mauritania, Mauritius, Montenegro,Nauru, South Sudan, Macedonia) have their borders highlighted in red when searched, reflecting past geopolitical changes that Google has decided to formally recognize.

However, even these layers of complication are not a complete picture of Google’s attempts to avoid conflict. There are several territories which have different boundaries depending on which country code top level domain (ccTLD) – .ru, .ca, etc. – is used to access Google Maps. A 2014 hackday (a day where coders interested in forms of “hacking” get together and collaborate on projects) sponsored by the Knight Foundation, Mozilla, and the Massachusetts Institute of Technology, and dedicated to the idea of “the Open Internet,” or internet neutrality, resulted in a list of “notable examples” of disputed territories which have different appearance on Google Maps depending on the viewer’s location.

The site shows the results of searches for these disputed territories from the U.S. view, as well as the “administering” country and the “claimant” country. These territories are: Aksai Chin, Arunchal Prades, Azad Kasmir and Gilgit-Baltstan, Bhutan (Chumbi salient and northwest valleys), Crimea, Demchok, Jammu and Kashmir, Pinnacle Islands, Shaksam Valley, Siachen Glacier, Spratly Islands, and Tirpani and Bara Hotii valleys. While this is not a comprehensive list, it does offer a look at the extent to which Google must consider the ramifications of its decisions; there are many countries implicated, and millions of people implicated.

The reasons for Google’s decisions are manifold. Google must follow the laws of the countries the accessing servers reside in, and relies on this rather than the judgments of a supranational power, such as the United Nations (U.N.), due to the U.N.’s lack of topographical tools: the U.N. Regional Cartographic Conferences meet only every three years, far too infrequently to be reliable for the settlement of disputes, and their maps are often not as detailed as Google’s. Google moves quickly – in the case of Crimea, it only took two weeks after the Russian vote to annex before Google Maps was updated – but it also maintains an expectation of quality mapping. This is why, when South Sudan was added as an independent country, it took two months for the boundaries to appear on the map; the U.N. decision did not make clear delineations, and the government’s delineations were not those commonly used. In order to rectify this, Google organized a series of events in Nairobi dedicated to community mapping South Sudan. In order to maintain the standard that Google is accustomed to, while also complying to local laws, Google has had to resort to what is known as “agnostic mapping” – acknowledging that there is no one objective reality, even when it comes to global boundaries, and providing cartographic information in compliance with this principle.

Google Maps decisions aren’t arbitrary, nor are they inconsequential: in 2010, a mistake in Google Maps almost launched a war between Costa Rica and Nicaragua when Nicaraguan officials believed that Google-drawn boundaries, later shown to be a mistake, indicated a Costa Rican invasion of already contested land. More recently, India drafted a law (which was not passed into legislation) which would allow for fines levied on those who publish inaccurate cartographic information to reach up to 1 billion rupees, or about 20 million Canadian dollars. Google’s transparency in regards to disputed boundaries is admirable – most of the time, to see a different country’s view, all you need to do is to change the ccTLD.

However, the lack of a consistent approach to these boundaries, or an official, regularly updated list limits the knowledge of viewers. Whether these viewers are players in world politics with the ability to launch troops, or students who are learning about geopolitical boundaries and only have certain viewpoints readily available to them, Google Maps has a responsibility to be as transparent as possible with its location and treatment of boundaries.

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The panelists were former prime minister Paul Martin, Michael Loft, an academic associate at McGill and member of the Mohawk community, TRC Commissioner Marie Wilson, and Ronald Niezen, a professor of law at McGill.

Speaking to The Daily, several students remarked on the fact that there was only one Indigenous speaker on the panel. Two audience members who spoke at the panel also identified themselves as Indigenous and spoke about their experiences.

Legacy of residential schools

“Those children going into off-reserve communities, losing their ability to have their culture, losing their parents, losing their language, is probably the single greatest tragedy and the single greatest black mark that this country has faced.”

Established in 2008, the TRC aims to document conditions in the Canadian residential school system, and the experiences of the survivors, families, and communities affected. Indigenous children were forcibly removed from their families and placed into residential schools, where they experienced physical, sexual, and emotional abuse at the hands of their caretakers. The conclusion of the TRC report contains 94 recommendations to help non-Indigenous Canadians and Indigenous peoples move toward reconciliation.

Speaking to the impact of residential schools, Martin said, “Those children going into off-reserve communities, losing their ability to have their culture, losing their parents, losing their language, is probably the single greatest tragedy and the single greatest black mark that this country has faced.”

“Last I looked, there were about 1,500 institutions that were claimed unsuccessfully as Indian residential schools. The majority of these were Indian day schools.”

Wilson focused largely on the TRC’s mandate of informing Canadians about the truth behind residential schools. She noted the importance of Canadian leaders who are “well rounded in our notions of country and notions of relationship to the other and a truthful understanding of our national history.”

Niezen called for caution about what truth is discussed, and whose truth it is. According to Niezen, the TRC has an overly limited definition for residential schools. “We see this focus on federal, federally funded, federally mandated Indian residential schools in the subject matter of the TRC. Last I looked, there were about 1,500 institutions that were claimed unsuccessfully as Indian residential schools. The majority of these were Indian day schools,” Niezen said.

This limited definition, and the “incompleteness of the TRC,” Niezen explained, poses a challenge to universities hoping to implement the TRC’s calls to action, which include, for example, requiring medical and nursing students in Canada to take a course concerning Aboriginal health issues, including the history and legacy of residential schools.

Indigenous narratives on campus

According to the panelists, another challenge faced by universities stems from the lack of space given to Indigenous narratives on campuses.

“For me, it’s about what’s missing – signs that are able to connect Indigenous people to the promise of education at this institution.”

Loft conceded that there has been some progress made in Indigenous visibility at McGill, such as the creation of the First Peoples’ House and the minor in Indigenous Studies; however, he also argued that there was room for improvement.

Loft said, “For me, it’s about what’s missing – signs that are able to connect Indigenous people to the promise of education at this institution. […] For example, when walking up from Sherbrooke, we see on the right the James McGill statue. We go a little further and we see the Quebec flag and Canada flag. We see the classic Greek columns of the Arts Building, and on the top, of course, the martlet flag. That’s it.”

Loft continued, “Yes, we have the Hochelaga rock, but the problem with that is that no one knows about it. […] It’s been staring at everyone since 1925, right by Roddick Gates. It’s impossible to see.”

Jimmy Gutman, a McGill student in attendance at the panel, spoke to The Daily about the small number of Indigenous students in universities, which Gutman believes stems from Indigenous students getting less funding for primary and secondary education per student.

“Yes, we have the Hochelaga rock, but the problem with that is that no one knows about it.”

“In general, if you live in an upper middle class neighborhood, you get more than if you live in a poor neighbourhood, and you get even less if you live on a reservation. So there’s a big discrepancy in what Indigenous people have historically received,” Gutman said.

Moving forward

Audience members and panelists alike discussed the necessity of including Indigenous voices in materials taught, as well as encouraging diversity on campus.

Loft proposed “a micro-approach,” for McGill, which would consist of two steps: moving the Hochelaga Rock to a more visible space, and raising the Hiawatha Belt flag on the Arts Building on June 21, National Aboriginal Day. “It’s nice to talk about big ideas, but we’ve got to get the ball rolling,” he explained.

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