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The views, opinions and positions expressed by columnists and contributors are the author’s alone. They do not inherently or expressly reflect the views, opinions and/or positions of our publication.


If you're currently focused on the pandemic and getting the economy going again, you'll be happy to know others have different priorities.  For instance the Canadian Union of Postal Employees, which wants to unionize food delivery people even if it costs them their jobs.  Is now really the time?

Actually it's not obvious that pricing someone out of the job market is ever a good idea.  Except if your cynical motive is reducing the competition faced by privileged people who already have well-paid, secure employment.  For instance postal workers.

It's also not obvious why food delivery would be the focus of the Post Office union even if we stretch a point and call those who deliver food "couriers".  Is the pizza dude a "courier"?  CUPW thinks so, capitalizes it, and wants him paid government union wages.  The revolution marches on.

Or does it?  On April 28 an angry press release from the union informed me that "CUPW and the Foodsters are shocked to hear about Foodora's decision to leave the Canadian market.  The two-weeks' notice that has been provided is grossly unfair and unreasonable.  We call on Foodora and the Federal Government to ensure that workers and food couriers be protected."

I can see how we might protect them from CUPW driving their employers right out of the country.  But how can we protect them from the consequences of letting it do so?

If this one had been bicycling under your radar, I'm with you.  I'm still not sure who "the Foodsters" even are.  A subsequent press release suggested that, without the capital letter, it's a slang term the delivery persons and their former contractor/employer used for all the former.  But with the capital F I rather suspect it's a union front group not a grassroots movement.

Either way, here's the deal.  In late February, the Ontario Labour Relations Board "delivered a landmark decision siding with CUPW's arguments that Foodora Couriers are dependent contractors (a classification closer to 'employee') of Foodora and not independent contractors."  Last fall Foodora's drivers and riders had voted on unionization.  But the ballots were sealed when the company challenging the whole proceeding on the grounds that the "foodsters" were independent contractors not employee-like "dependent contractors".

In February the OLRB said otherwise and everybody was happy.  Except the "employees", their "employers" and the customers as the firm shut down its Canadian operations.

OK, the union wasn't happy either.  But apart from that, win-win.

Interestingly, the CBC noted that the decision came at a time of surging demand for Foodora and other such firms due to the lockdown.  Which might also be described as a time of surging demand for workers in this industry at a time of mass unemployment.  As the CBC observed, "it's not just food, either — the company recently started offering deliveries of products as diverse as flowers, pet food, alcohol and coffee on its service."

Well, not any more.  CUPW put a stop to all that nonsense.  Everybody lost their job.  Hooray.

The tone of the April 28 press release is especially striking.  It amounts to picketing outside a closed factory demanding… what?  And from whom?  CUPW National President (how many Presidents have they got?) Jan Simpson snarled "Foodora and Delivery Hero must be held accountable to the workers couriers have made millions for this company and deserve to be treated with dignity and fairness."  But what can this rant even mean?

Is the idea that they will be legally forced to resume operations under conditions they cannot control?  If so who will dictate who they hire and at what rate?  Who will set their prices?  And who will cover their losses?

Foodora and its parent firm Delivery Hero are based in that hotbed of worker exploitation called Germany.  And they claim they pulled out of Canada because they're losing money.  But CUPW wasn't having any of that bourgeois capitalist nonsense.

On April 29 it filed a fresh complaint of unfair labour practices with the OLRB.  Apparently shutting down before you lose all your money isn't allowed in what Terence Corcoran called "Unionland: Canada's scariest theme park" (or words to that effect) so long ago it's not on the Internet.

Speaking of long ago, this whole concept of public sector unions bringing the efficiency and customer service focus of government to the small business sector is surely a bit long in the tooth itself.  And not working very well; evidently almost all of CUPW's 54,000 members work for Canada Post, such a vibrant cutting-edge incarnation of the new digital economy that, as a mere consumer, you can't order stamps online and have them delivered… by Canada Post.

No really.  You can't.  Whereas Amazon will sell you almost anything from a bicycle to mustard to a plague mask so scary no one will come within six feet of you even to arrest you.  But with a handful of "cleaners, couriers, drivers, vehicle mechanics, warehouse workers, mail house workers, emergency medical dispatchers, bicycle couriers and other workers in more than 15 private sector bargaining units" CUPW dreams of bringing the entire proletariat under its wing.  It's 1938 out there, man!

This episode underlines the perilous gap between the public and private sectors in Canada, including the unfunded gold-plated pensions on which those in the former retire early and in comfort at the expense of chumps who retire later and poorer, or never.  Hence the Feb. 27 CUPW press release gloating about the OLRB ruling was signed by their "3rd National Vice-President" working from their fancy HQ on prime downtown Ottawa real estate.  But I digress.

Or maybe not.  Because the chasm between the public sector elite and the private sector proles is widening with the pandemic quarantine.  Those bureaucrats and even most politicians making decisions that drive private firms into bankruptcy and leave their former employees scrambling to pay the rent aren't seeing any of their friends even taking a pay cut.  And it won't get easier when governments that blithely borrowed amounts they could not service try to raise taxes on closed firms.

We'd all love to have jobs like public school teachers, collecting $90,000 a year until you retire in your late fifties with a $55,000 pension for life feeling badly done to.  But we can't.  I'm not even sure teachers can going forward.  And it's going to be a lot harder if quasi-governmental bodies like the OLRB team up with public sector unions to drive private enterprise out of the country then stand slack-jawed demanding to know where the real work went.

It's not just destructive.  It's demented.

Especially now.

The views, opinions and positions expressed by columnists and contributors are the author’s alone. They do not inherently or expressly reflect the views, opinions and/or positions of our publication.


For Quebec parents, it seems a little surreal.  On April 27th, Premier François Legault announced that Quebec elementary schools and daycares would reopen on May 11th.  But not everywhere: in Montreal, they would open 8 days later, on May 19th.

Montreal, of course, is the hottest zone of the Covid-19 hot zones in Quebec and in the country.  At the time of writing this, 1,078 individuals have died of the coronavirus in the Montreal region, out of the 1,761 deaths registered by Quebec Public Health authorities.  This represents 36% of the total number of deaths in Canada.

But we've reached the peak, we are being told.  The curve has been flattened, and we are ready to reopen the schools.  Not all schools, mind you: high schools, CEGEP, colleges and universities will remain closed until the regular 2020 back to school day, around Labour Day.  In those cases, however, Quebec's Minister of Education Jean-François Roberge has been clear: "A teenager who is at home must continue their schooling, and their parents must accompany them in that."  Gone are the days when Roberge was telling students of all ages they were on Covid vacation.

Quebec Premier Legault listed off five reasons as to why it's important to reopen schools in mid-May:

First, the well-being of children.  "It's important for children, especially those with challenges, that they don't remain six months without having gone to school, he said."  The second reason: the risk for children (and people under 60) is "limited."  The third reason is the situation being under control in the hospitals.  "If there were teachers or children who become ill, we have the numbers and staff to take care of them now," Legault said.  The fourth reason: the Public Health Authority has given the move the green light.  And, finally, "life goes on," Legault said.

I could be dramatic and point out that the well-being of children starts with staying healthy; that the risk while limited is not zero; that hospitals are under control because they've off-loaded their elderly Covid-19 patients to long term care facilities which are now overwhelmed and that yes, life goes on except for those who die, of course.

Interestingly enough, none of the reasons were linked to re-opening the economy, even though it is plainly, obviously linked: Quebec announced the next day the re-opening of retail, the construction and the manufacturing industry for May 11th.  Coïncidence?  Of course not.  These parents must be freed from taking care of their kids, you see.

Another reason that was not listed was the concept of herd immunity, which Premier Legault was touting as the best way out of the current pandemic just a few days prior.  In an attempt to prepare Quebecers for the lifting of the sanitary measures, Legault was explaining that allowing larger numbers of people to get the virus was the best defence against another wave that could overwhelm the healthcare system.

"The concept of natural immunization does not mean we are going to use children as guinea pigs," Legault said on April 23rd.  To prove his point, the government has made the return to school optional.  Parents who do not feel comfortable sending their kids to a classroom don't have to.  So optional guinea pigs, then?

Funny that the herd immunity concept was no longer being used as a selling point by Legault when he announced schools were coming back perhaps because of the many reports about people testing positive a second time, after having been declared healed.  Or the lack of evidence about the concept, as warned by the World Health Organization and Dr. Theresa Tam, Canada's Chief Public Health Officer.

Nevertheless, Quebec parents are facing a dilemma.  Some may agree with Legault's five reasons.  Some may even embrace the concept of herd immunity.  Some may be done with trying to homeschool while working from home.

Shops are re-opening and you have to go back to work on location, opened schools are a must unless you qualify for Justin Trudeau's CERB and believe it would be safer to stay home anyway.  Trudeau himself wouldn't say if his kids would go back to school when their school reopens.

Trudeau doesn't need to make a decision now because in Ontario, schools will remain closed until at least May 31st.  Premier Doug Ford said he would not follow Quebec when it comes to reopening schools because he does not want to put children in harm's way: "We've got to protect our children at all costs and we'll make that decision by the end of the month," Ford said.

Meanwhile, there are new reports from the UK that many children are falling ill with a new and potentially fatal combination of symptoms apparently linked to Covid-19, including abdominal pain, gastrointestinal symptoms and cardiac inflammation.

There are risks.  There are always risks, with or without Covid-19.  Kids get hurt and kids sick at school all the time.  Some even die because they went to school.  The question Quebec parents have to ask themselves is: is now the time to take that risk?

On April 30th, the Quebec government extended the State of Emergency until May 6th.  Yet somehow, school's back five days later.

Photo Credit: CBC News

The views, opinions and positions expressed by columnists and contributors are the author’s alone. They do not inherently or expressly reflect the views, opinions and/or positions of our publication.


What is a reasonable cost for the summertime sizzle of that backyard burger barbecue?

Not the health or lives of workers toiling in the country's meatpacking plants.

In Alberta the Cargill plant in High River and the JBS plant in Brooks process about 70 per cent of Canada's beef, according to the cattlemen's association.  Right now Cargill is shut down and JBS is down to one shift a day because of the spread of COVID-19 in the workforce.

So far more than 700 employees at Cargill and more than 120 at JBS have tested positive for coronavirus.  Two employees have died.

The packing companies are taking a bottom line hit.  On top of that, the food supply chain backup is forcing farmers to feed cattle longer on their ranches because there's nowhere to send them.  The financial toll could be $500 million for cattle producers.  And consumers are soon likely to see increased prices and shortages.

In High River and Brooks meat packing workers, many of them foreign workers or recent immigrants, are being barred from local grocery stores for fear of contagion, according to a charitable organization called ActionDignity.

Alberta's Medical Officer of Health Deena Hinshaw is predicting the COVID case numbers related to the plants will likely grow.

Both the big meat packing plants should have gone into temporary shut down more quickly when contagion was first detected in the workforce.

A two-week pause in operations can prevent the continuing spread and mitigate more prolonged disruptions in the industry.  Deep cleaning of the plant and the development of contagion-prevention measures and workflow changes can be thought out and instituted.

Employees and unions agitated for closures long before Cargill finally shut down on April 20.  There is a petition out there now to shut down the JBS plant completely.

But companies and government were both reluctant to blow a big hole in the middle of the meat supply chain.

Thomas Hesse, president of the United Food and Commercial Workers Local 401 says the companies and the Occupational Health and Safety department failed the workers.

In fact Occupational Health and Safety did an inspection of Cargill and declared it safe for workers after an initial retooling of work practices was instituted.  The inspection was done by video, not in person, which has drawn plenty of criticism from union officials and the NDP.

Other meat plants across the country have suffered similar disruptions.  Granted they aren't as huge as Cargill but some of them closed pretty quickly.  In Quebec Olymel closed its hog plant in Yamachiche after nine employees tested positive.  Maple Leaf Foods closed its Brampton poultry plant after three people tested positive.

And there are examples of plants which haven't closed despite positive cases, settling for deep cleaning instead.

These decisions aren't easy for companies or for governments.  Preserving the food supply chain is a huge responsibility.  Assurances that grocery stores will remain stocked help calm a citizenry already at the end of its tether because of the pandemic's many uncertainties.

But the workers at these plants must never be treated as expendable.  Their health and safety in the workplace ranks equal to all other Canadian workers.

What Canada must not do is follow the example of the United States.  President Donald Trump announced this week that he is using the Defense Production Act to order meat-processing plants to continue operating.

Twenty meatpacking workers have died in the U.S. from COVID and 6,500 have the illness.

The president says he plans to protect the meatpacking companies from lawsuits over inadequate protection in the plants, but he hasn't been specific on such a measure.

Canada needs to get a handle on the meatpacking plant outbreaks quickly.  If shutdown are called for they need to proceed and one would hope they will be temporary.

In any case, the juicy burger can be shelved for this summer of COVID if that will save lives.  Veggie burgers really aren't that bad.

Photo Credit: CBC News

The views, opinions and positions expressed by columnists and contributors are the author’s alone. They do not inherently or expressly reflect the views, opinions and/or positions of our publication.


There was a great deal of excitement among MPs over Twitter on Monday as they all posted images of the trial run of the first "virtual sitting" of the House of Commons, pronouncing how very historic this all was.  The problem of course is that while there may be a certain amount of novelty to it, and while it may be historic from the sense that it may be the largest "virtual" gathering of MPs in a formal, parliamentary setting, it is not in fact a sitting of the House of Commons, and this needs to be reiterated.

What wound up being agreed to by the government motion bullied through on Monday, April 20th, was for in-person sittings on Wednesdays, and "virtual" sittings on Tuesdays and Thursdays.  None of these are actually sittings, but rather special committee meetings.  As a particular fudge of parliamentary procedure, the government proposed that a Special Committee on the COVID-19 Pandemic be created, and that it would be comprised of every sitting MP and chaired by the Speaker.  More confusingly, the "virtual" sittings are special committee meetings whereby the Speaker will be in a specially outfitted committee room within the West Block that has a slight resemblance to NASA's Mission Control.  While this actually reinforces that this is not an actual sitting of the Commons, what confounds that understanding is the fact that the Wednesday in-person sittings are still actually considered meetings of this special committee, only they're being held in the Commons Chamber in a quasi-Committee of the Whole situation, which is what one would imagine that these "accountability sessions" could actually have been procedurally had they all been held in-person and not in the Commons.

But wait it gets even more convoluted, because when the in-person special committee sessions end at 2:30 PM, they have the option of then having an emergency sitting of the Commons to consider legislation that has been agreed to by the opposition parties and that's exactly what's going to happen on this Wednesday, because there will be new emergency legislation presented that revolves around the measures developed for students as part of the pandemic response plan.  Under the terms of the motion, that special emergency sitting will last for no longer than four hours for "debate" of said bill, which means it's pretty much going to be a series of canned speeches from each of the parties that if we judge by the previous emergency legislation, these speeches will have very little to do with the actual bill itself, but will be the parties giving their general and accumulated concerns and grievances about how the government has been handling the pandemic response, and how the government haven't listened or acted on the "brilliant" suggestions (read: implausible or impossible, like universal payments without a magic database or "send money now" button on the CRA's computers), or back-patting for supposedly being the first to suggest measures that were eventually adopted (like the eventual decision to close the borders).  And it will still be a bill negotiated and amended in the back rooms and then passed at all stages without a proper transparent legislative process, like they could have had if they had actually had the three skeletal sittings a week.

In other words, despite the boasts of certain MPs, there will not actually be any virtual sitting of the Commons.  These special committee sessions will allow members to question the prime minister and other ministers, but one suspects that it will happen more in a committee format, meaning seven-minute rounds, followed by five-minute rounds, and around and around we will go until the clock has expired.  (While the virtual meetings are supposed to last two hours each, as would most committees, it looks like this Tuesday it will be a four-hour meeting with no Thursday meeting this week, but two-hours each next week).  If anyone has observed Commons committees before, backbench questions will largely consist of "Tell me how great our government is doing on this file," while most opposition questions will consist of five-minute speeches followed by a rhetorical question with little time for the person being questioned to answer, or conversely an attempt to get the witness to badmouth the government.  Given that it's ministers on the proverbial hot seat, I suspect we'll get a lot of the former, sprinkled with some of Pierre Poilievre's smarmy attempt at a Matlock impression as he tries to get a witness box confession.

The other reason why the committee fudge is a workaround for the moment is because it avoids a few of the trickier aspects of parliamentary privilege, which is designed to ensure that MPs can speak unencumbered.  As of Monday's trial run, only about 250 of the 338 MPs were able to join, given technology and connectivity limitations.  Because this is a committee and not a proper sitting of the Commons, it likely heads off some of the privilege questions by those MPs who aren't able to join in, because it's not a true sitting of the Commons.

The more important aspect of the committee fudge, however, is that it is the last bulwark from creating an actual virtual sitting, which would be the death knell of our parliament.  So long as these virtual meetings are relegated to committee status and not actual Commons sittings, it makes it easier to compartmentalize them for when this pandemic is over and they can be treated as an emergency measure.  As I've stated before, the real danger here is of social contagion that MPs will demand that because they sat virtually during this crisis, that they should be able to do so on a regular basis, and because the Liberals have been pushing for this kind of thing before under the rubric of being "family friendly," (and were shot down more than once), it is all too conceivable that they will use this as an excuse to push through the back door what they weren't able to through the front.  If they do that, Parliament will very quickly depopulate as MPs prefer to stay in their ridings, and it will become a hollow shell.  Let's hope this bulwark lasts, and that these virtual meetings remain an emergency committee.

Photo Credit: Toronto Star

The views, opinions and positions expressed by columnists and contributors are the author’s alone. They do not inherently or expressly reflect the views, opinions and/or positions of our publication.


It is a truth universally acknowledged that being Leader of Her Majesty's Loyal Opposition is the worst job in politics.

That is doubling true in times of crisis, when a "rally around the flag" factor kicks in, somewhat inoculating the prime minister and cabinet against criticism.

So, what is an opposition leader to do during the COVID-19 pandemic?  For the most part, we've seen a combination of tempering partisan criticisms with solicitous preambles, some more ham-fisted than others.

As some examples, former NDP premier Rachel Notley in Alberta has refused to back down, fighting Jason Kenney tooth and nail on health-care funding.  The NDP's Andrea Horwath in Ontario has largely been invisible; new Liberal leader Steven Del Duca has oscillated between the occasional jab but mostly stuck to practical suggestion-making.  And Andrew Scheer has been a godawful train wreck.

What has united these differing approaches is that they all focus on the day to day, what I call the "ankle-biting" or "backseat-driving" role an Opposition plays: find the bad in whatever the government of the day just did.

However, in this time of crisis, it seems as if that role is less welcome; the public seems to accept that government will, to one extent or another, be reactive in a crisis, and the time for criticism is in the inevitable public inquiries to come.

Granted, the Opposition still has to do its daily job but it seems to me right now a far more vital role is to project an alternative vision, not simply to play armchair quarterback.

President Obama's first chief of staff and former Chicago mayor Rahm Emanuel said, (in)famously, "never let a good crisis go to waste".  Or, to paraphrase The Great One, skate to where the puck is going to be.

What are the long-term solutions to the economic downturn the pandemic will cause?

Is it to aggressively champion converting the Emergency Relief Benefit of $2000 into a basic income?  That could be done, with some 9 million Canadians receiving the benefit, not to mention those already millions of Canadians receiving a pension or child-benefit cheque.

Is it to forgive student loans?  That could work as economic juice, freeing up the purchasing power of millennials and Gen-Zs to help power the recovery.

Perhaps, for the Conservatives, the answer might be some form of targeted tax cut, to stimulate that age-old response to a crisis: "go shopping".  It seems to me a kneejerk siren song for austerity would be the worst thing the Conservatives could do, economically and politically.

Might it be to embrace the fact that our transit systems have either gone to fare-free models during the crisis voluntarily, or else have seen their fare revenue drop to near zero anyway?  Could we see a way forward where transit comes back with a fare-free model, to encourage ridership when people might want to avoid commuting on a packed subway car when the crisis first ends?

What about pay rises for personal-support workers and nurses?  Grocery store clerks and truck drivers?  What about a minimum-wage increase across the board?

What about foreign aid, and forgiving debts owed to the developing world?

There are endless possibilities for intriguing public-policy solutions to be advanced.  Indeed, the biggest economic risk still to come, if we have learnt anything from the 2008 crash, is that we cannot afford to take our foot off the gas of stimulus and supports prematurely, lest we risk a moribund recovery.  This time next year, we will need governments to continue to pull on economic levers in an unprecedented way; cutting back too early is risky for the economy, just like it is for our health in ending the lockdown too soon.

Regardless of the preferred solution, now is the time for bold leadership, for Opposition figures to propose a vision and a plan, to be maximalist to push public opinion and move governments along.  Yes, there needs to be day-to-day accountability, but much of that will be handled after the fact.  Now is the time for a smart Opposition leader to seize on "the vision thing" and get real change done.

Photo Credit: City News Toronto

The views, opinions and positions expressed by columnists and contributors are the author’s alone. They do not inherently or expressly reflect the views, opinions and/or positions of our publication.


Being in Opposition is never fun.  Being in Opposition during a pandemic is even worse.

Power and no power: in one job, you get to answer questions, and everyone listens to what you have to say.  In the other job, you only get to ask questions, and no one ever notices you.

A million years ago, when Yours Truly was Special Assistant to Jean Chretien, the Leader of Her Majesty's Official Opposition neatly summarized the distinction for me.  He was a bit grumpy, and so I asked him what was wrong.

"I like answering questions," Canada's future greatest Prime Minister said.  "I don't like asking them."

When you are an Opposition leader, Chretien later said to me, your job is to oppose.  Your job is not to give the government foot rubs and encouragement.

As a result, voters will ask you "why you're so negative all the time."  And: "Don't you have anything constructive to offer?"  The media will get in on the act, too.  But that's only because the media like to corner the market on asking lots of negative, non-constructive questions.

During the Great Pandemic, the job of an Opposition leader becomes even worse.  In Ontario, for example, Doug Ford has done so well that his fiercest critics are regularly singing his praises.  Ford has looked and sounded empathetic and informed.  He's spoken to Ontarians.  He hasn't spoken at them.

As a result, his principal opponents have simply vanished, like Jimmy Hoffa.  They're invisible.  Does anyone even remember what they look like?

Now, invisibility isn't all bad.  Take Joe Biden, for example.  The presumptive Democratic presidential candidate effectively won the primaries a few days ago, and then promptly slipped into the political shadows.

There's a reason for that, as a Democratic friend reminded me: "When your opponent is destroying himself, don't interrupt him."

And, holy Toledo, has Donald Trump been busy destroying himself, or what?  Before 2016, every American knew he was a racist and a criminal and a thug, so they knew what they were getting when they voted for him.  They'd be getting a racist and a criminal and a thug.

But ingesting disinfectants?  Beaming light into people's bodies?  At that point, on that fateful night, Donald Trump became an object of pure ridicule.  A walking joke.  And he handed his Opposition leader a ready-made campaign slogan:

"Joe Biden: he won't inject you with bleach."

Andrew Scheer, for reasons known only to himself, decided to do the reverse.  He decided to get visible during the pandemic.  Scheer hopped on a crowded Ottawa-bound government jet with his wife and his one hundred kids, and got busy.

On the day after the worst mass-murder in recent Canadian history, for instance, Scheer decided to make the scheduling of Question Period his top issue.  And, when questioned about a Conservative MP and leadership nobody who had made racist remarks about Canada's Chief Public Health Officer?  Scheer shrugged.

No biggie, to him.  He wants way more Question Periods.

Pro tip, Blandy Andy: Canadians see Question Period as what is wrong with government.  Not what is right about it.

And attacking public servants who can't defend themselves from political smear-merchants  Canadians don't see that as very fair, at all.  They don't like it.

What did Andrew Scheer get after his ill-considered decision to get super noisy and all oppositional during a pandemic?  He got members of his caucus demanding that he step down right away, that's what.  He got a poll showing Justin Trudeau's popularity has skyrocketed upwards, some twenty percentage points.

That's what he got.

Being a leader of the Opposition is no fun, true.  But being an Opposition leader during a time of actual crisis when most everyone agree that we all need to set aside petty differences, and pull together for the common good requires skill and intelligence.  Neither of which, it is now painfully evident, Andrew Scheer possesses in abundance.

If your opponent is setting himself on fire, as Bleach Boy Donald Trump is doing, don't interrupt.  But if your opponent is doing a pretty good job in a crisis as Justin Trudeau and Doug Ford are clearly doing don't interrupt that, either.

As Opposition leader during a pandemic causing death and misery everywhere, your job is not to just carry on as usual, and oppose oppose oppose.

Your job is to be quiet, and wait your turn.

Photo Credit: The Canadian Press

The views, opinions and positions expressed by columnists and contributors are the author’s alone. They do not inherently or expressly reflect the views, opinions and/or positions of our publication.


The ways in which some various Westminster parliaments have been handling the global pandemic and the emergency legislation related to it has been the subject of some emerging study as well as some fairly facile comparisons between countries.  The advent of "hybrid" sittings in Westminster itself this past week has prompted a number of online loudmouths to declare that if they can do it, so can Canada, without necessarily understanding some of the unique capacity challenges that Canada faces or even looking at the fine print of what is actually happening in Westminster and why it's not what they think it is.  If we're going to actually do some comparison, then we should also examine some of the capacity challenges that may be unique to each country's parliament.

The Samara Centre for Democracy released a new report this past week which compares the emergency responses of the four main Westminster parliaments the UK, Canada, Australia, and New Zealand, both in terms of how they enacted any pandemic-related emergency legislation, but how they have tried to ensure any kind of ongoing oversight whether in person or by some sort of "virtual" means.  Unfortunately, as is not unexpected with a Samara report, most of the findings are surface-level observations without actually looking into some of the substantive differences, or reasons in which countries may be reacting in different ways particularly when it comes to the advent of "virtual" sittings.  It's also a bit galling that they simply accept the notion of virtual sittings as "Use 2020 technology" rather than questioning any of the underlying assumptions or even desirability of them just because we can (maybe) do a thing, it doesn't mean we should do a thing.

For example, with the UK, which has been the most robust with its emergency legislation procedures, and sitting longer than other parliaments (while making adjustments and precautions to do so as safely as possible), has some particular differences with how some of its comparators operate, in particular because it's already used to not being able to fit all 650 of its MPs in their tiny chamber at any particular time, and they have their lobby voting system rather than standing votes.  When looking at how different parliaments are adapting, this starting point is worth noting.  As well, with the "hybrid" sittings that they have begun, whereby the key government and opposition figures are in the Chamber with the Speaker and the Mace, and other MPs have dialled in by video, it's also important to remember that this has not been extended to all 650 MPs, but a mere 120.  They also have specific and different accountability measures that Canada doesn't employ, like Urgent Questions, and these virtual sittings won't be regular legislative debate or votes.

While Australia had a more robust debate that included amendments from the floor on their emergency legislation, they have suspended until August and have no ongoing scrutiny measures, in-person or virtual, planned for the duration.  Australia has vast geographic distances like Canada, but the Samara report mentions nothing about their regional considerations should they have any kind of parliamentary sittings during the interim period.

New Zealand has followed the same kind of process that Canada has with their emergency legislation where it has been negotiated and amended behind closed doors before being voted on at all stages, but they have been using committees over Zoom, including an Epidemic Response Committee led by the Leader of the Opposition.  But New Zealand, unlike Canada, has a relatively tiny unicameral parliament, and they don't appear to have simultaneous interpretation of their proceedings (it does seem that an attempt was made in 2011, but I don't see evidence that it has carried forward, though apparently one can address their Speaker in Maori).

And this brings us to Canada, where our capacity challenges are unique compared to some of the other comparators, when it comes to our geography, the need for our proceedings to carry on in two official languages with simultaneous interpretation, and the fact that if we want to hold virtual sittings (and we don't really), then we have to be cognisant of the fact that a great many parts of the country have spotty internet connections that make it difficult to do video conferencing particularly at a time when broadband connections are already being taxed by everyone being at home streaming and doing their own video conferences.  If we are so concerned that all 338 MPs be able to participate remotely which is more than the UK has been able to do with their reportedly faster and better internet connections this limitation matters.

This said, I do find the Samara fixation with the regional representation during our skeleton sittings to be frustrating, because these MPs are not debating or voting based on their regional concerns all of the negotiation for our emergency legislation was done beforehand and behind closed doors, so all MPs simply allowed the bills to sail through stages with unanimous consent.  As well, we also need to repeat what has been stated at the Procedure and House Affairs committee's hearings on "virtual" sittings this week, that the technical and staff capacity of our parliament is that they can only handle about ten virtual committee meetings per week, for both the Commons and the Senate.

This having been said, we in Canada find ourselves in a position where the government on Monday bullied through a motion in the Commons with the support of the Bloc, and the NDP, to hold once-a-week sittings on Wednesdays with the promise of "virtual" sessions on Tuesdays and Thursdays but knowing that the Clerk has stated that they won't actually be able to set these up until mid-May at the earliest.  This while the Conservatives had a perfectly reasonable proposal of thrice-weekly in-person sittings that would have allowed for these "accountability sessions" to actually carry on, and any future emergency legislation (possibly relating to the new student measures) could actually have proper legislative debate rather than the need to be passed at all stages in order to sit as briefly as possible.  Parliamentary scrutiny matters, and for the government to have evaded it based on a disingenuous premise of virtual sittings that they knew weren't going to happen, it shows that they don't quite live up to their insistence that parliament matters.

The views, opinions and positions expressed by columnists and contributors are the author’s alone. They do not inherently or expressly reflect the views, opinions and/or positions of our publication.


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The views, opinions and positions expressed by columnists and contributors are the author’s alone. They do not inherently or expressly reflect the views, opinions and/or positions of our publication.


"…[I]t is cheaper and more cost effective to provide people who experience homelessness with the housing and supports they need, rather than simply provide them with emergency supports through shelters and soup kitchens."

—Stephen Gaetz, professor at York University

When you pass a homeless person on the street, do you feel uneasy?  If so, is that discomfort with the individual person's presence, or with the notion that our wealthy society could passively allow someone to fall into destitution?  Do you consider a person living on the street to be a malefactor, or a victim?

Over the past four decades, homelessness in Canada has burgeoned and our collective response has largely been indifference.

Even the current pandemic hasn't proven incentive to adequately care for the most vulnerable.  COVID-19's spread has run veritable laps around our sluggish, apathetic response.  And while we dutifully express concern for virus outbreaks in senior care homes, so too has SARS-CoV-2 voraciously propagated through shelters and other inadequate care facilities for the homeless.  This horrific outcome was predictable, yet shockingly little effort was made in prevention.

But while it's tempting to focus solely on the exacerbated needs of homeless people during this most dire of times, we shouldn't lose sight of our actions (or lack thereof) during the pre-pandemic normalcy.

How did social welfare deteriorate so badly?  And more importantly, why did we tolerate its decline?

The "post-war consensus" involved a proliferation of nurturing governments, including the creation of robust social programs.  But that era would give way to the "age of austerity" in the 1980s, in which governments disinvested from affordable housing, chipped away at the social safety net and privatized public services.  Not by coincidence, homelessness started ballooning.

Canada isn't alone in its experience; the same script has been played out across much of the Western world.  10 years ago, British councils (municipal governments) would be fined if people were found to be sleeping rough, as it was the legal responsibility of government to provide accommodation for those in need.  Today, just one short decade later, homelessness has become ubiquitous in the UK, to the point that many people scoff at the notion that government could possibly ensure everyone has a roof over their head.

The United States of America has fared even worse.  Before the current pandemic began, almost one percent of the population of Washington D.C. was homeless.  One shudders to think what the figure could swell to later this year.

People living on the street became an uncomfortable norm within our social compact, one that insidiously flourished over the past 40 years.  But why did we passively accept this undesirable outcome?

As our gross domestic product has expanded, workers' wages have barely budged in response. Inequality has worsened; wealth is ending up in fewer people's hands. But rather than expressing outrage at the rich residing in their proverbial palaces, we instead often criticize the visibly poor for ostensibly being lazy.  If I'm working incredibly devoutly as an employee, yet barely treading water, would it be fair if society gave someone else a free handout?

But brushing off the homeless as indolent would be incredibly ignorant.  The streets can be safer than an abusive home; many flee physical or sexual violence, and resort to living under bridges before even becoming an adult.  Others have untreated mental illness, something Canada's woefully incomplete social healthcare system often leaves unaddressed.  Some have lost their job and subsequently either evicted from rental housing or had their mortgaged home repossessed.  Others are in employment, including roles classified "essential" under the current pandemic, yet still cannot acquire permanent housing due to an affordability crisis politicians seem inept to rectify.

As our economy offers increasingly precarious employment, Canadians have perhaps never been at greater risk of homelessness.  And yet, rather than addressing this by strengthening our social safety net, each new government insists on plucking another thread from the welfare tapestry, unravelling it yet further.

Ultimately, this sordid reality is the responsibility of us, the voters.  We're the ones electing politicians who undermine the support system meant to keep struggling Canadians afloat.  Politicians dangle the shiny bauble of low taxes, and appease our guilt by insisting that what they're cutting is somehow "waste."  These elected charlatans may not campaign on increasing homelessness, but surely that is the expected consequence of a spend-thrift narrative that appeals to our most selfish proclivities.

Should a society with homelessness as the norm be acceptable?  Is this the society we wish to build?  Can a hypothetical utopia feature severe inequality and hefty pockets of destitution?

With the pandemic underway, many Canadian cities are improving the welfare of the homeless.  Some are merely increasing the distance between shelter cots, placed in a large room offering no privacy or safety.  Others have secured the use of hotels, allowing homeless people to adhere to physical distancing guidelines by having a suite to themselves.

But don't fool yourself: providing housing to the homeless which advocates have spent decades calling for is intended by politicians merely as a temporary measure.  As the pandemic winds down, it's likely that support for the homeless will revert back to pitiful levels experienced during the Before Days; that indifference will once again define social welfare.

Or will it?  Perhaps the social order is overdue for systemic change.  The post-war consensus lasted 35 years; the subsequent age of austerity has already spanned 40 years.  Is it working?  If not, at what point do the foundations fray enough to mandate change?

As many measures are temporarily implemented to thwart off the worst of the pandemic's fallout, will we come to see these as necessary improvements for our society that cannot be clawed back?

We know from countless studies that a "housing first" model of addressing homelessness is both more effective and far less costly than the motley combination of temporary shelters and institutional (police, ambulance, hospital, etc.) supports.  There is no evidence-based justification for neglecting the welfare of the homeless; it's a mean-spirited choice, based solely on ideological sadism.

As the pandemic wanes, we must elect politicians who will house and offer sufficient supports to society's most vulnerable.  We must ensure everyone has a roof over their heads.

Moving forward, we should regularly ponder one question: what good is material wealth in a society void of empathy, compassion and humanity?

Photo Credit: Pixabay

The views, opinions and positions expressed by columnists and contributors are the author’s alone. They do not inherently or expressly reflect the views, opinions and/or positions of our publication.