In Kamouraska, all politics is local

KAMOURASKA, QUE.—I began writing this column in July of 2017. As regular readers know, over the past four years I have been critical of people in public life. I believe I earned my cynicism: I worked as a public servant, ministerial assistant, and reporter over the past 45 years, and saw my fill of politicians. It led to me frequently cite Plato’s dictum: “The greatest penalty in not engaging in politics is to be ruled by someone inferior to yourself.” And I ran for office at the municipal, provincial, and federal levels. But I didn’t contemplate a return to the fray. When I moved to Kamouraska last year, I wondered if I could contribute locally. The council here consists of six members and a mayor, none of whom had faced an election for 12 years. As is the case in many small towns across Canada, elections are unheard of: whoever wants to be a councillor comes forward, and is acclaimed. While Kamouraska is a municipality of 600-some souls, it is also a historic village, dating back to 1674 and the “cradle” of the Lower Saint Lawrence River. It was home to the author of the original O Canada, and the father of the Quebec flag. It was the scene of an 1839 murder, which was the inspiration for the best-selling novel and film, Kamouraska. And it has recently become a sought-after vacation spot, for its sunsets, tides, islands, mountain views, architecture, restaurants, and famed bakery. Sadly, while Kamouraska was being discovered by tourists and millionaire summer residents, the village council was trodding along, incapable of managing sudden tourist growth, higher taxes, or an aging demographic, leaving its elementary school almost empty and the village a ghost town in the winter. As someone who has spent 70 summers and 20 Christmases here, Kamouraska matters to me. I would not speak French, understand the cycle of the tides, appreciate the environment, Quebec culture and politics, or rural life without having spent so much time here. And it worried me where Kamouraska was going. “All politics is local,” former American congressman “Tip” O’Neill once said, and certainly, for Kamouraska’s future, the road to change led to the council. When I started digging into its legacy, I heard gossip about all kinds of dubious activities and the control exerted by the outgoing mayor, a potato farmer. I decided to throw my hat in the ring, with a group of three other reformers (three councillors of the six had been acclaimed). I produced two French-only flyers, got the support of three past mayors, and knocked on every door in the village and back road rangéess. I talked to businesspeople who complained council had never lent a hand. I heard from people who wanted change. The campaign was an education: I put names to faces I had seen around town for years. At the door, I was asked where my accent came from. “I am an anglophone from Montreal,” I would reply, they would nod and we would keep chatting. Henry Kissinger once defined university politics in a way that easily applies to small towns, by saying the smaller the stakes, the more vicious the conflict. And certainly, the election was no cakewalk. The outgoing mayor endorsed his designated successor and the rest of the “status quo” slate. An acclaimed councillor jumped into the fray to promote my opponent and the “status quo” mayoralty candidate. In the final week, the gloves were off. They failed. Of the three council seats in play, two of us won, and our mayoralty candidate was victorious, our first woman mayor. My margin was the largest: 51 votes of 397 cast, an accomplishment as the first anglophone ever elected here. We face many challenges: ensuring greater transparency, encouraging young families to move here, increasing tourism in fall and winter, and protecting the delicate environment. It will mean making Kamouraska my home and dedicating myself to it. I will continue to write about politics from my perch 600 kilometres from Ottawa, but, in the spirit of Garrison Keillor’s Lake Wobegon, will provide occasional updates on the goings-on at the council. A friend suggested my win might be the beginning of “a great political career.” I assured him it was actually the end of one. Andrew Caddell is retired from Global Affairs Canada, where he was a senior policy adviser. He previously worked as an adviser to Liberal governments. He is a fellow with the Canadian Global Affairs Institute and a principal of QIT Canada. He can be reached at pipson52@hotmail.com. The Hill Times

In Kamouraska, all politics is local

Henry Kissinger once defined university politics in a way that easily applies to small towns, by saying the smaller the stakes, the more vicious the conflict. And certainly, the election was no cakewalk.

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In Kamouraska, all politics is local

Henry Kissinger once defined university politics in a way that easily applies to small towns, by saying the smaller the stakes, the more vicious the conflict. And certainly, the election was no cakewalk.

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