The summer of our disconnect

CHELSEA, QUE.—Politics in Canada almost always slows down in summer. Backyard barbecues and community festivals are still threatened by visits from glad-handing federal, municipal, or provincial politicians. Occasionally, a significant retirement (B.C. Premier John Horgan), a drunk-boating incident, or an overtly racist float in a rodeo parade—ripple the lake waters. And none of our immediate worries—these days, increasing gasoline and food prices; the ongoing deterioration in health services; heat domes, atmospheric rivers and derechos—go away in the warmer months. (Including COVID, however hard we may pretend.) But for those fortunate enough to have a job, a cottage, an RV, or high-rise balcony—even a transit ticket to get to a local beach—summer allows a period of respite, a reminder of what we love about our country and our lives. We grumble when the political wars start again in earnest at the end of August (although they never really stop on Twitter). But like kids returning to school, or workers returning to offices, we rejoin the world, political mess that it is, almost from force of habit. But this summer feels different. The international news is so dispiriting—from the gutting of abortion rights in the U.S.; to the callous and bloody war against Ukraine; to the apparently unstoppable global drift to climate catastrophe; to regular mass shootings south of the border—that unplugging entirely, and permanently, is tempting. It feels almost necessary. Listen to audio books, take up fly fishing or kite-surfing, create novelty cocktails: anything to fill the void left by political news we no longer have the heart to consume. The shadow even covers this blessed country. In recent years, many have been forced to rethink Canada Day, in light of our history of colonialism and the calculated attempt to destroy Indigenous peoples. There is still a lot to celebrate, notably the land itself that we, sometimes uncomfortably, share. But Canada Day no longer seems as simple as it once was, on either side: for the privileged, or the plundered. For many, there is still cold beer, camping, family, and fireworks. But every joy can feel muted. Even “ownership” of the Maple Leaf is in dispute this summer. Is the flag a symbol of our pride and joy at being lucky enough to be Canadian, or, is it a provocation, wielded like a weapon by those who don’t seem to like very much about the country? Not everyone is discouraged this summer, of course, and not everyone is laying down tools. The worst, in fact, are filled with passionate intensity. Conservative leadership candidate Pierre Poilievre continues to release clever, well-produced videos that shamelessly distort economic reality. The fired-up remnants of the so-called “Freedom” Convoy continue to command too much air time, as they search for new targets for their anger and hatred—including this year on July 1 on Parliament Hill. Meanwhile, in Alberta, the recently rejected Premier Jason Kenney—whose anti-Ottawa rhetoric seemed transparently tactical rather than sincere—could be replaced by the more radical voices of Danielle Smith or Brian Jean as leader of the United Conservative Party. Smith, a former broadcaster and Wild Rose star, is calling on Albertans to unilaterally refuse to follow any federal law deemed anti-Albertan. In Ontario, of course, Doug Ford was recently re-elected in a landslide, the result of two things: the lowest voter turnout in the province’s history (43 per cent) and a lacklustre performance from under-resourced, or unfocused, opposition parties. Ford’s winning message to Ontario, while skimpy on details, amounted to this: don’t worry, Uncle Doug will take care of everything. In which case, why bother to vote at all? On the other side of the ideological divide is a federal government that seems paralyzed—quick to commiserate with the fears, and anger, of Canadians, but unable to offer anything more than palliatives and commissions of inquiry. The RCMP (and the military) are apparently impervious to reform. That oil pipeline the government bought from the Texans five years ago is not going to be profitable after all, much less generate funding for green alternatives to fossil fuels. Even the passport office is unable to supply passports in a timely way. (You had one job, Passport Canada.) Many weeks into that crisis—with daily televised evidence of long lineups outside federal buildings and a barbed video from Poilievre inviting everyone to come “camping” with him in a passport lineup—the prime minister noticed, expressed sympathy and immediately appointed a cabinet committee to untangle the mess. Decisive! He did not explain why no one in the vast federal bureaucracy saw this post-pandemic crunch coming, or, if someone did, why nothing was done to prepare. Against this drumbeat of banal mistakes and mediocre management, there have been successes. Canada survived the first two years of the pandemic better than any other country, say a number of international surveys. It remains, in other soundings, one of the happiest of countries. Unemployment remains relatively low. Canada is also, despite the mystifying insistence of Poilievre’s posse, one of the most free countries on Earth. There are Pride parades in small towns that would never have hosted such an event even five years ago. Abortion is still not outlawed (although access is uneven across the country.) There are new pedestrian and cycling pathways in many cities, and national and provincial parks are over-subscribed, so large is our appetite for nature. Outdoor community festivals and concerts are back this summer, dog parks are busy, and electric cars are no longer a novelty. (While take-up has been slow, owing to cost and lack of supply, demand is growing—and no wonder. The current inflation hit on the family budget is reduced by one-third for owners of electric vehicles, according to credible calculations.) These small, almost intimate, improvements in daily life don’t compensate for shuttered emergency rooms or $2.50-per-litre gas, but they are a reminder that not everything is hopeless. And, around this time, select mainstream Canadians are awarded the Order of Canada—this year, including feminist pioneers in tennis and hockey, early Indigenous politicians, sprinter Donovan Bailey and actor Sandra Oh, among others. Outside of the Order of Canada, everyone can name an inspirational activist, thinker, advocate whose political ideas were once considered outrageous—until they become obvious: long-time environmentalists like Elizabeth May or Tzeporah Berman, pro-choice pioneer Judy Rebick, Indigenous leaders like Murray Sinclair and Cindy Blackstone, to name a few. Their accomplishments vary, but they share one thing in common: they didn’t, and don’t, give up. We shouldn’t either—not if want a country that is more fair, more productive, safe and peaceful. Perhaps this summer is an opportunity to reflect—away from the political noise—on how to rise above the rancour come September. Susan Riley is a veteran political columnist who writes regularly for The Hill Times. The Hill Times