Democracy — You're a Pain!
Canada accepted me when I was an older man. Because I wanted it — and because Canada allows for that.
Thank you, Canada. Happy Canada Day.
As a young Swiss fellow an impossibly long time ago, I would find one of those grey, unremarkable government envelopes in my letterbox. And I found it enormously annoying. “What do they want from me now?” A hundred times over, or so it felt. Some initiative or other. Some candidates — with and without character.
In Switzerland, the people vote on everything. On fighter jets. On cow horns. On an unconditional basic income. Four times a year, the ballot envelope flutters into the house. I groaned. I filled it out. I sent it back. What a cumbersome, slow, gloriously stubborn process! The good part? Swiss voters — including those living abroad — are asked for their opinion, meaning their vote. How thoroughly decent is that?
I regarded this process as a nuisance for decades.
Today, I look forward to that envelope every single time. Switzerland still asks me — from across the Atlantic.
Slowly and deliberately.
Build, Baby, Build
Here in my adopted home of Canada, governing under Prime Minister Mark Carney has found a new pace. Major projects — mines, ports, pipelines, nuclear facilities — are to be approved within a year from now on. One year. The proposal goes further still: Cabinet signs off first — and only afterwards is it examined whether the environment will be harmed, whether the people on the ground are in agreement. And that process runs while the excavators are already digging.
Canadians are of course invited to report their concerns and questions to the government. Fair enough, so far. But this is to happen within thirty days. In Switzerland, that is barely enough time to locate the ballot envelope.
There is a name for this breakneck method of governing. “Flooding the zone.” You don’t change the one law against which resistance might form. You change fifty at once. Half a trillion for the military here, a few amendments to labour law there, airports placed under review, the right to strike left hanging in the balance — and before citizens have formed an opinion on the first matter, three more have already passed through.
I am overwhelmed just trying to keep track of it all. Those who are drowning do not protest. Not I. Not we. You simply gasp for air.
Perhaps that is the strategy.
And before anyone lines up the usual political camps: the sweeping acceleration legislation from last summer was waved through by government and opposition together. Some wanted to build fast, others faster. When a senator moved to write explicit First Nations consent into the law, this was rejected. Across the floor, on all sides.
This is not a story of left versus right. It is a story of fast versus deliberate. And deliberate has no lobby.
I am no friend of filing cabinets. I am a friend of respected citizens in a functioning democracy.
I came to Canada at sixty because the openness of this extraordinary country, the warmth of Canadians, welcomed me — not with paperwork. But there is a difference between a process that harasses and one that allows a person to say no, calmly, in their own time.
And yes — I am proud of Team Canada. Of its steadfastness. Of the new markets and connections. Of the closeness to EU nations. Of the respect that Canada has earned in the world.
And I am deeply grateful to live as a Canadian citizen.
Perhaps I should keep my misgivings to myself. Limit myself to gratitude. — No.
Canada is the country and the people I want to live with. With whom I share a community. And in that very community, I am allowed to express my views. Just as it is guaranteed by law in a democracy. And that is a privilege worth protecting.
I understand that crises demand speed. That politicians must deliver, not merely advise. And our Prime Minister Mark Carney has shown how this works in practice. But democracy hinges on whether citizens are part of Project Canada. Whether they can have their say. Whether they are allowed to say no. Loudly. Slowly. Even when it is a nuisance.
On this glorious, hot Canada Day, this is what I wish for myself and my fellow Canadians:
May democracy always be a pain.
