from the Canadian Journalism Foundation.
Toronto. June 13, 2023
Success is rarely accomplished without the help and guidance of others. A Lifetime Achievement
Award in particular, belongs to many others. In my case, it belongs to:
My dear departed parents in India, Hafiz Mohammed Moosa and Hafiza Amtul Baseer. They provided my siblings and myself with a gloriously happy childhood. And were indulgent of my many early failures and missteps. Failed at Pre-Engineering, failed at Pre-Med, failed at professional cricket. Meandered my way through a science degree, flirted with English literature and, finally, settled on a graduate program in journalism.
My father’s surprised response was, “Have you asked TGV?” — T.G.V. being T.G. Vaidyanathan, my English prof and dear mentor. I said, yes, and he thought I might work out as a journalist. To which Abba said, “If it’s fine by TGV, it’s fine by me.” The import of that simple sentence is this:
Parent and teacher have traditionally occupied very high places in the pantheon of the millennium-old multicultural India. Abba, an Urdu-speaking orthodox conservative Muslim from north India. TGV, a Tamil-speaking Hindu with a sacred thread across his chest, from south India. In deferring to each other, the two were more secular and liberal than many of our avowed secularists and liberals today, too many of whom too often turn out to be closet bigots, as the Indigenous peoples and other minorities no doubt can testify.
Ronald Michener, who, before being Governor-General was high commissioner to India, casually suggested to a cub reporter in Bombay (now Mumbai) that, “young men like you should go to Canada.” To which, I had responded in my youthful arrogance, “Why would anyone want to go to Canada – it’s so cold there, isn’t it?”
Clark Davey, managing editor of the Globe and Mail in Toronto, who in 1967 did not give me a job but suggested I get Canadian experience elsewhere. A good place to get it would be the Brandon Sun, and that he’d gladly phone them. My response was: “Why would anyone want to go to Manitoba – it’s even colder there than here, isn’t it?”
At the Brandon Sun, owner-publisher Lew Whitehead turned out to be gem of a man, who let me spread my wings for 10 years and turned me into a Canadian journalist.
Next, the award belongs to Ray Timson, managing editor of the mighty Toronto Star, who hired me and gave me endless opportunities. And to Beland Honderich and John Honderich, publishers both, especially John, who celebrated my mostly dissident writings and fended off my many critics.
That was a priceless gift. A writer is a nobody, really, without a big and powerful platform and institutional protection. Canada’s largest newspaper provided both. This has been a longstanding tradition at The Star, still being maintained under the new ownership of Publisher Jordan Bitove.
Such institutional protection is less and less available to journalists today, as the media face unprecedented financial pressures. This at a time when independent, fearless journalism is most urgently needed.
The Star also encouraged my efforts at injecting diversity, in content and on payroll, not only at the paper but across Canada through such industry organizations as the Canadian Daily Newspaper Association (now News Media Canada) and Canadian Advertising Foundation (now Advertising Standards Canada).
The award belongs to my wife Yasmeen, and our sons Fahad and Faisal, and their wives, Fatema and Elizabeth, each highly successful in their own right, who form a loving family that serves as an emotional and intellectual anchor.
Finally, the award belongs to Canada – our home and native and adopted land – that made my journey possible, without ever making me compromise my identity or my conscience.
This enabling multicultural milieu is what makes Canada so unique and a role model to a troubled world, where skin colour and faith have become such debilitating fault lines.
Vive le Canada.
