Mani Amar’s documentary, A Warrior’s Religion, didn’t set out to answer this question. But by addressing head-on the role of gurdwaras in the community, his film throws light on a prevailing mood in the Sikh community, and therefore the electoral result.

Amar is twenty-seven years old. I meet him in his home studio, where he cut together the movie he had more or less single-handedly written and shot over three years. He’s in T-shirt, jeans, and a frayed ball cap, looking antsy because game seven between the Detroit Red Wings and the Anaheim Ducks is due to begin in just over an hour. There’s Red Wings insignia throughout the room, nunchaku and other martial arts weapons hanging on one wall, and Ganesh and Lakshmi statuettes perched high on a wall sconce.

“My manager gave me those to help me prosper by staying out of debt,” Amar says. “I don’t care if you believe in Allah or Christ or the Dalai Lama; as long as you’re doing good in the world, I’ll see you in the end. And I don’t care if you shave your head or if you’re circumcised. I just don’t give a fuck.” Pause. Then: “Sorry for swearing. I’m a total island boy.”

Vancouver Island, that is. Amar was born and raised in Port Alberni, in the interior of the island, and moved to the Lower Mainland nine years ago. He still fondly remembers small-town life, including one of the famous bush parties he attended, although he’s never had a sip of alcohol in his life. But it’s quickly apparent Amar doesn’t pine for safe and stable patterns. He’s all about change. The phrase “making a difference” comes up a dozen times in our conversation. As in: “I was the sixth grader fighting for the recycling program at school. The kid writing articles, trying to make a difference.”

Tellingly, his film opens with a quote from the Talmud: “Whoever destroys a soul, it is considered as if he destroyed an entire world. And whoever saves a life, it is considered as if he saved an entire world.” This is a call to activism, Amar says. A call to reject consumerism’s core value “that the more you have the more you are,” which leads to young people “forgetting their God-given abilities . . . the ways in which they really could make a difference.”

Amar wanted his film to get the community talking about why well-off kids are dealing drugs and shooting each other in drive-bys. And the film has had this effect. Thousands of people have shown up for early screenings. Lots of local press. By the time I speak to him, Amar has already fielded a request to discuss gang issues with the House of Commons Standing Committee on Justice and Human Rights.

The film covers a lot of territory, in interviews with Indo-Canadians from then BC Supreme Court Justice Wally Oppal, to former chief constable Kash Heed, to grieving mothers who’ve lost kids, to gangbangers both active and retired. And while the gang issue is massive and multivariate, with each relevant factor he raises — whether lingering racism, Indo-Canadian family dynamics, or something else — Amar holds out hope that, through discussion, opportunities for positive change can be found.

There are no easy answers. Amar may criticize an Indo-Canadian tendency to minimize family problems to save face, but he’s also quick to tell me, “That whole mainstream idea about Indian parenting being old and backward is bullshit.” The underlying issue is the adaptation of a communal Indian parenting style, dependent on multiple generations, to the fast-paced, individualistic Western life. And for that adaptation to be successful, education and coaching is required, either from temples or the broader community.

On the influence of the Sikh religion, Amar navigates similarly tricky waters. Does the history of Sikh martyrdom contribute to the gangster mindset? The bad guys in the film all seem to think so, including Bal Buttar, who was himself shot and left paraplegic after arranging Bindy Johal’s death. But Amar doesn’t buy the excuse, nor do most of his interview subjects. As Kash Heed says in the film, thousands of kids learn about Sikh history every year and don’t join gangs.

Where Amar takes a harder line — and raises matters relevant to the November 2008 election — is on the role temples have played in contributing to an atmosphere in which gangs have sprung up. Specifically, he’s critical of the lack of programming, such as alcohol or domestic abuse counselling, to address problems that feed into gang violence. That lack is precisely the reason Ranj Dhaliwal decided to run for office himself.