When I moved to St. John’s I got work at a call center. Sometimes, on the other end of the line I’d hear “I’m not talking to a Newfie,” and then a dialtone.
Council is back in socially-distant session at the Bunker, and it’s as glorious as you expected.
Newfoundland & Labrador will be clawing back income support from anyone who received CERB. Advocates fear this will increase poverty and homelessness.
Up to now, an important aspect of Andrew Furey’s recent professional life has received almost no mention at all: his corporate board directorships.
Council is also moving to get space adjacent to Bannerman Park for a mobile food vendor to lease. Do you hear that, taco trucks?!
Despite the fanfare for their service, food retail employees themselves are not convinced they’re ‘recognized’ in ways that actually improve their lives.
“We just started last week. I feel like this is the beginning of something.”
Come for the updates on garage-top hotels and greenlighting deck roofs in a heritage zone. Stay for the rare photo documentation of Cllr Wally Collins.
The events triggered by Covid-19 are diagnostic of fragile social arrangements that we have lacked the ability to discuss for decades.
It’s not too late for Newfoundlanders and Labradorians to write a new, original story—our story, our future—from the ruins of the present moment.
The supply chain is not a series of equal links dependent on the ‘weakest link’ to operate. Rather, the middle is a choke point over the food supply.
It’s easy for white people to deny that racism exists in Newfoundland & Labrador. Black people in this province can’t afford to think like that.
Get your most outraged social media warrior face on: you have TWO WEEKS to ALL CAPS your way into Council inboxes to explain why you are pro or con the BYB.
The fight over the 2020 fishing season has exposed many deeply rooted problems in a crucial but troubled industry in Newfoundland and Labrador.
Far from being a “great equalizer,” Covid-19 is exposing the deeper inequities in our healthcare systems and the populations they serve.
The way digital information is mobilized during this pandemic highlights the politics of data—even if we often couldn’t see the data itself.
Labrador flags are flying at half-mast all across the Big Land to mark the passing of Jim Learning, which is only right for a man who did so much to have those flags flying high in the first place. To the people of Labrador, Jim was something like a folk hero. To the people of Newfoundland, he was an enigma, calling for the independence of a territory that few imagined could be other than an appendage of the island. To the province’s politicians, he was a subversive, a source of constant irritation, a man of the people calling out injustice with a crystal-clear voice and putting them to shame. To the province’s activists and progressives, he had a stature and “cred” that few can aspire to. It was as an activist I first knew Jim. He played no small part in activating me. In 2011 and 2012, as the Muskrat…
We can *heart* oil and gas all we want—it doesn’t *heart* us back.
This column introduces a series of commentaries that create space for positive futures by thinking against the grain of the pandemic.
While we may never have encountered a health crisis like this in our lifetimes, our ancestors did.