Anyone who has even a passing acquaintance with me is aware that I despise mealy-mouthed liberals in general and Justin Trudeau in particular.
For nearly two decades I have regarded Trudeau, Jr. as a prime example of the kind of vapid, insufferable personality that has made a home on the centre-Left of the political spectrum. The sheer hypocrisy of these people is something to behold. They’re in favor of all the grand social causes of the day, any issue that doesn’t endanger their personal interests or cause them to lose their privileged status. They call themselves “progressives” because it makes them feel better, but their political activism comes to a screeching halt when their bank accounts and vacation homes are threatened or if their kids can no longer attend elite private schools that help prep them for life among the one-percenters.
J.T. is the embodiment of a “on one hand this, on the other hand that” breed of people that can utter contradictory positions without realizing (or caring about) the intellectual and ideological cowardice of their stance. Look at the way he championed the notion of proportional representation before the last federal election, abandoning it as soon as he had secured a comfortable majority in the House of Commons. He can bemoan the poor state of the environment, offer his support to the Kyoto Protocol and other climate accords, yet spend billions of taxpayer $$$ on new pipelines that, if Canada aggressively pursued alternative energy strategies and technologies, will be obsolete in a decade. He and his office personally intervened on behalf of SNC-Lavalin, trying to ensure that corruption-plagued company would receive special treatment from our judicial system, a lenient slap on the wrist for consorting with despicable regimes, bribing their way into the good books of the likes of Muammar Gaddafi.
Yet instead of being continually raked over the coals for these cynical ploys, today J.T. finds himself vilified for photos and video from the distant past, the politically correct posse baying for blood. Remember, apologizing and showing remorse isn’t enough for these arbiters of decency and morality, they want your existence permanently expunged from the record, the very mention of your name subject to boos and hisses from the peanut gallery.
Some of the wisest words ever uttered are: “Let those without sin be the first to cast stones”. How many of us have something to hide, some indiscretion, ill-advised joke, stupid quip we’re ashamed of? Have you never behaved badly or caused distress to someone else, deliberately or inadvertently? Well, then, you’re among a very tiny minority and good for you. And, by the way, you’re also a big, fat liar, liar, pants on fire.
Folks, the reason our politicians suck these days, why we have difficulty convincing thoughtful individuals to run for public office, is because of the ridiculous standards we impose on them, insisting that everything they’ve done in their lives either be above reproach or so well concealed they never have a chance of seeing the light of day. If you happened to fart in church back in 2003 and wish to run for mayor, town dogcatcher or, God help you, member of Parliament, well, someone is bound to bring it up and use it against you. Never mind your genuine desire to serve others—less fortunate people who have (rightfully) become disenchanted with the candidates they’ve been offered and would like to see a politician possessing new, exciting ideas and the mettle to carry them through.
How many of our best leaders and statesmen, men and women who made their mark on history, could bear the kind of scrutiny they’d be subjected to today? How many would be denied the opportunity to contribute their unique gifts and visions to the world? Mackenzie King talked to ghosts, JFK was a serial philanderer, Lincoln famously stated that if given a choice between preserving the union and outlawing slavery, he would choose the former option.
And Jesus Christ, we’re told, regularly hung around with whores and tax-collectors (shame on him!).
We get the kind of government we deserve and if the self-appointed poobahs of righteousness and virtue have their way democracy will suffer grievously…and we will continue to be represented by officials unstained by scandal, but lacking any of the passion and fire required to enact real change in our unequal, superficial, broken society.
Getting caught with your pants down is one thing—being exposed for lack of conviction, duplicity, a paucity of empathy and compassion, wanton disregard for democratic institutions and values is something quite different.
It’s perfectly okay to be a Justin Trudeau hater…just make sure you’re hating him for all the right reasons.
We lost a couple of people very near and dear to our hearts and that’s never easy.
Awhile back, I posted a poem titled “The Grief Path” that did a good job of alluding to the sense of emptiness and pure anguish one experiences with the death of a loved one. It exposes the rawest emotions, the agony reaching right down into your soul, the seat of your faith. Only the passage of time offers a slim promise of solace. There is simply nothing you can do for it except keep putting one foot ahead of the other and wandering up that long, lonely track. Keening your song of sorrow and woe.
And then just when it seemed like the atmosphere was lightening, some of the spiritual and emotional pall lifting…
…the decision in the Colten Boushie case was handed down.
I had the privilege of meeting Debbie Baptiste, Colten’s mother, last summer, within weeks of her son’s senseless death at the hands of Gerald Stanley. I was immediately impressed by her poise and dignity, despite the weight of the incredible burden that poor woman was bearing. I couldn’t help wondering how she felt when she heard that terrible verdict read, realizing that in the eyes of a court of law, a fundamental Canadian institution we have been taught to honor and respect, her boy’s life was deemed worthless.
What can we say to her?
Is it sufficient to remark that sometimes Justice really is blind…and deaf and dumb too? Somehow, I doubt that will cut it. She has been let down at every point of this ordeal and at the end of the day, whatever happens next, she won’t be getting Colten back.
She and her many supporters have every right to demand answers regarding how the RCMP handled the initial investigation and their behavior toward Debbie and her grieving family in the immediate aftermath of the shooting.
I’m pleased to hear talk of altering the rules of jury selection, but don’t foresee any speedy or significant changes to a system that has failed, disproportionately, our First Nations people since before Confederation, compounding the misery that everyday, casual racism inflicts on them, the stereotypes they must endure.
The only thing that gives me hope are the on-going efforts we’re making—through education and increasing knowledge of aboriginal history, cultural exposure—to reach out to each other, share our stories, growing together as a nation of nations. I know people intimately involved in this process, men and women who recognize the power we can tap into whenever we collaborate, combining our energy and spirit on meaningful endeavors that celebrate our diversity, the collective strength of the many.
That’s why I grieve, but I do not despair.
I know in my heart the good guys are on our side and the better angels within us will prevail.
It will take time, tremendous effort but we cannot fail, cannot allow the small-minded, the vulture-hearted, to steal the future from us and color it blood red.
We’ll do it for Colten and all the others who die without fulfilling their promise.
We’ll do it for Debbie and the mothers who weep for the children taken from them.
And we’ll do it for ourselves, to prove we are worthy of our roles as stewards of Creation and the children of a wise and loving god.