Montreal
A friend of mine is a reporter for CTV in Montreal. The pandemic has hit hard there, harder than in any other Canadian city.
I asked Dan if he would write a reflection for the Reflector website. He did.
Bless the people of Montreal. Bless the reporters heading out to follow the story. Amen - Todd
It snowed on Monday, March 23, 2020 in Montreal.
This is not strange, but it is the kind of thing that will get clicks; especially if you get into the sweet spot: 10-20 centimetres. Let it snow, and let them click.
The snow on March 23, 2020, however, it didn’t even warrant a story. No one on the web desk checked if there was even a weather warning, and no one would have read it anyway.
There was something else going on that day. There was something else going on then, and there is something else going on now.
There is, in fact, only one thing going on, and it has taken over every aspect of the news cycle.
It is the COVID-19 pandemic.
Writing for the web desk during the pandemic is a non-stop stream of content. There has never been anything like it.
I am not the veteran newsman that some are; having only been at the post on CTV News Montreal’s desk since August, and working as a journalist since 2011. I did not cover 9/11, the 2008 financial panic, the Oka Crisis, the ice storm or the War on Terror.
All of those stories were big, but I dare say the entire newsroom wasn’t dedicated to every aspect of them. I suppose going back to the Second World War would be the last time when every story centred on one thing. Locally, I would bet the 1998 ice storm took over everything, but nothing in my lifetime has had such a global focus.
“Non-coronavirus” stories these days are as rare as a February Vancouver snowstorm.
As a gauge for how things have changed, consider Friday, March 6. There was an earthquake in Montreal, a COVID-19 case confirmed, a stabbing, and a Habs legend died. RIP Henri Richard. That was a full day of big news, and one that got us all excited as we watched people engage with the news (all any journalist really wants). To be clear, Henri “The Pocket Rocket” Richard was not the person who was stabbed.
A week later, the only thing to say about Richard was that fans couldn’t go to his funeral. Two weeks later the news was nothing but coronavirus and it has stayed that way since. Stabbings, ice rain and people getting hit by buses briefly make the top 10 stories of the day, but never stay for long.
Watching the news cycle and reporting on the pandemic is fascinating and exhausting.
In the past two weeks, I’ve interviewed the guy who runs a homeless shelter, a cop, a lady who runs a convenience store and is upset she can’t buy scratch tickets at the store anymore, a comedian whose dog singing “I Will Survive” went viral, and a nine-year-old who began inserting gloves, masks and the COVID-19 virus into masterworks of art. I spoke with a mom who really wanted to know why the school board didn’t say WHO it was that was positive, and an Indigenous DJ spinning on Twitch because all of his shows were cancelled. I talked to someone annoyed that her final exams are going to be on camera, and the guy who runs the Running Room.
I’ve written about Asian racism, Jewish communities getting hit hard, a party getting broken up, public transit measures, and, of course, the all important fodder for everyone’s attention: the count. How many are infected? How many have died? How many masks do we have left?
All stories are affected by the virus. Infected.
What do I make of all this? How do I, as a journalist, reflect on this?
It’s a tough question.
There are some that are frustrated, some that are energized, some that are scared, and some that are defensive, but they all kind of see that a) we’re all in this together; b) we have to do something; c) now is not the time to be a spazz and d) we need to do a better job of washing our hands.
Some are kind, some are cautious, some are curious and some are mean. Sometimes, all of the above are stupid.
CRUELTY
Yes, there are the people panicking and, in a paradox of reason, storm to the most crowded place imaginable – a supermarket – to stockpile in case they need to isolate. I wonder how many caught the virus that scared them so much in the first place at the supermarket, and brought it home and sat upon their mountain of toilet paper and infected everyone else. How much do these people think they’re going to poop by the way?
There are, and this is no surprise, a lot of people ready to snitch. Sometimes, this is not a bad thing. If there are a group of idiots partying because they don’t think it affects them, call the cops. If there is a family in their house making some noise, just let it go.
In Montreal, the Jewish communities were hit hard, and started falling under uneven levels of scrutiny. Reading comments under stories in these times is particularly hard.
People’s racism has, predictably, shone through against Asian people and communities as well.
This is something I’ve noticed over the past decade or more and it did not come as a surprise. North Americans (elsewhere as well, but I live here) seem to have a pretty easy acceptance of racism towards Asians living on the continent. Consider Yuli Gurriel’s despicable racist taunts at Japanese pitcher Yu Darvish and the minimal punishment meted out as an example of how little people care and then amplify that to 11 when a global pandemic that originated in China is sprung.
Look south, sure, but look at your own community and how people react to an Asian person going to get a loaf of bread. Disgusting. It broke my heart listening to Korean, Chinese and others living in Montreal that wanted to tell their story about how afraid they were to go outside, but also didn’t want their names used in case some kind of retaliation happened.
The silver lining was that most commenters were as disgusted as I was when the story was posted.
JOY
There, naturally, was the shining examples of people who just want joy back.
People are putting rainbows in windows, finding ways to give tenants a break on rent, singing songs, offering to help seniors and writing hate mail to journalists. I guess some things remain the same.
The Jacques Cartier Bridge lit up with rainbow lights the other day, and cops and fire-fighters have parked outside of hospitals with their lights blazing and sirens blaring in thanks to health-care professionals.
The theme is joy. People want joy. Not nice things, but something that gives a deeper feeling.
INSECURITY
I was writing stories literally five months ago in November about the CAQ government in Quebec considering tabling a bill that would make it against the law for merchants in Montreal to say, “Bonjour – Hi” when customers entered the store. I laughed while writing it then and kind of want to barf thinking that this mattered. The Minister Responsible for the French Language Simon Jolin-Barrette wanted people to say “bonjour” only (He hasn’t been seen since the pandemic began).
The answer to why that was even a story in November is the same as to why people are so scared now: insecurity.
The questions no one can answer no matter how hard questioners scream are all the same at the core: What is it going to be like in six months? What is it going to be like in a month? What’s it going to be like next week? What’s it going to be like tomorrow?
When will I be secure again?
In Quebec, Premier Francois Legault said he will not release any scenario for when the virus will peak, when the numbers will stop going up, and when that graph will hit the sweetest of all Nirvanas: the plateau.
We don’t know, and so we wait. We sit at the mercy of that unforgiving, indifferent and coldly cruel monster: time.
IT WILL MATTER, JUST NOT NOW
There’s a neighbourhood in Montreal called the Plateau. It’s prime hipster real estate with the coolest cafes, boutiques, brew pubs and bike shops. My wife has a store there, which has been ordered closed with the rest of them. Leonard Cohen lived there. Schwartz’s Deli is there, and there’s a chess café called Pi. You can see the cross on top of Mount Royal from there.
All of this is preamble now. All of this is the before now. All of this seems like nothing now.
It seems like nothing but it is not.
All things will matter again, just not now. Weather warnings will matter, just not now. Liverpool hoisting the EPL championship will matter, just not now. Ken Bell’s education on Montreal brew pubs will matter, just not now. The Habs questionable moves and Canucks inevitable gut punch will matter, just not now. Quebec’s Bill-21 banning religious garb for public servants will matter, just not now. The cost of gas, the cruelty towards neighbours, the ignorance of science, meaning of Star Trek and the style of Tan France will matter, just not now.
This will take time, but things will matter again.
