Editor’s Letter

Anewsroom in the aftermath of a breaking news event can look unnaturally calm: rows of desks, their occupants bent over their work, trying to make sense of what doesn’t make sense yet.

But there has been little precedent for covering something like the covid-19 pandemic, which has disrupted the very way we work. At The Walrus, dozens of impromptu conversations that typically take place among the editorial staff throughout the day have been commuted to instant messaging and structured, almost awkwardly formal, digital “check-ins.”

Trapped in our homes amid anxious pets, busy spouses, and stir-crazy kids, my colleagues and I have begun to admit to sleeplessness and an overall sense of uncertainty. Much has been made of the ways the pandemic has disrupted how we work, shop, go to school, see our families, and more — but perhaps one of the unanticipated effects we’re just starting to acknowledge is how much and how quickly society is permanently changing. As the adrenalin rush of the pandemic’s first few months begins to wear off, our resilience in dealing with new kinds of pressure is starting to wear down. But I’ve also noticed that people are confronting areas of disagreement and communicating about them in a more open and honest way than ever before.

My colleagues and I have been having lengthy discussions about racism in response to events like the killing of George Floyd, in Minnesota, and continuing conversations about anti-black and anti-indigenous violence in Canada. This has included taking a hard look at how many writers and artists of colour regularly contribute to our pages and the kinds of assignments they receive. (For instance: Does it routinely fall to journalists of colour to address only diversity issues?) We’ve also met recently with Canadian Journalists of Colour and the Canadian Association of Black Journalists to talk about how to make The Walrus a better organization.

In a world filled with bad news and late-night social media “doomscrolling,” we sought to develop this issue with a focus on helpfulness instead of hand-wringing. “Of Hope and Hobbits,” an excerpt from Thomas Homer-dixon’s new book, Commanding Hope: The Power We Have to Renew a World in Peril, discusses a relevant aspect of the timeless classic The Lord of the Rings — how the heroes draw on their diverse strengths to vanquish a common enemy. Other stories bring historical context to current conditions. Vicky Mochama’s essay, “The Giving Economy,” looks at the practice of mutual aid, a long-standing tradition in Black communities that some small businesses and individuals are now trying to implement as a step toward economic recovery. And, in “Tables Turned,” Corey Mintz examines the challenges imposed on Canada’s multibillion-dollar restaurant industry in a pandemic period, providing insights into what the future of dining out could be.

You’ll notice that this double issue is bigger than most of our print editions. As the pandemic and its various forms of lockdown continue, we have decided to publish two larger print editions instead of four monthly editions this fall. This will provide some financial relief in the form of lower postage costs — and allow us to publish almost the same amount of journalism in print.

We’re continuing to publish daily online. Over the summer, we launched Terra Cognita, a new, Indigenous-led series guest-edited by Robert Jago. His feature on Indigenous innovation in the Americas, “The Hungry People,” appears in this issue. The rest of the series can be found at thewalrus.ca/terracognita.

Just as it’s hard to know how long the changes we’re experiencing will be with us, it’s equally hard to know how the covid-19 pandemic and its myriad social and economic disruptions will be interpreted through the lens of history. If anything, the past few months have drawn attention to marginalized members of our society, such as the elderly, essential workers, and low-income families. In doing so, they’ve also drawn attention to so many things from the “before time” that didn’t work. Our hope is that, through journalism and art that document society’s current upheavals, we’ll emerge from this time into abetter world.

— Jessica Johnson

“The Hungry People,” p. 68

“My original conception for this story was a video of a dinner party with dishes made entirely from ingredients indigenous to the Americas. I thought it would be a good jumping-o point for a discussion. But, -19. My wife and I had put together a whole menu. After Aztec appetizers, we’d move on to a spaghetti arrabbiata made with corn pasta and fresh tomatoes, spiced with chilies, local herbs, and avocado oil. We’d have an India-‘indian’-inspired turkey dish. We’d nish with a strawberry-topped mousse made with avocado, cocoa, and agave syrup, which sounds weird but is rich and very sweet.”

Robert Jago is an entrepreneur, an occasional writer, and a member of the Kwantlen First Nation and Nooksack Indian Tribe. He is also the editor of Terra Cognita (thewalrus.ca/terra-cognita), a new Indigenous storytelling project.