Rod McQueen's Blog, page 4

The reckoning

At the beginning of the year, I made a 10-point “Fearless forecast.” Let’s see how well or otherwise I fared.
1. Justin Trudeau will remain leader of the Liberal Party. Pierre Poilievre’s 10-point lead will evaporate. No election will be caused or called.
• Two out of three right. The Poilievre lead is now 20 points.
2. A recession as defined by two quarters of slow or no growth will occur. Previously compassionate Canadians will turn mean and blame immigrants for both the housing crisis and hard times.
• A year too early on the first part. I believe a recession is still in the offing. I hesitate to say this but I probably got the second part right.
3. The S&P/TSX Composite Index will fall 18 percent.
• My worst prediction. TSE is up 22 percent.
4. Donald Trump will win the U.S. presidential election. All hell will break loose.
• Got that one right. We’ll have to wait and see about the all hell part.
5. Israel will reject international pleas for peace and continue to pursue Hamas even as the number of dead Palestinians rises to 50,000.
• Regrettably right although deaths are closer to 45,000.
6. Forest fires will repeat last summer’s sultry proliferation thereby bringing cries of outrage and threats of reprisals by the United States toward Canada.
• Correct about forest fires but wrong about reprisals. The U.S. suffered from fires too.
7. Russia will offer peace to Ukraine in return for keeping all the territory it has won. Ukraine will refuse. Fighting will carry on as the world loses interest and aid to Ukraine dries up. 
• We’re not quite there yet. May come to pass once Trump takes office.
8. Toronto and other cities will rename more streets and remove more statues in a futile attempt to forget a past that will forever haunt us.
• In June Toronto city council changed the name of Yonge-Dundas Square to Sankofa Square, a name that sounds like a brand of instant coffee. No one knows what Sankofa means.
9. We’ll wish Artificial Intelligence had never been invented.
• Turns out AI can’t even write a joke.
10. In spite of everything, may all your hopes and dreams come true.
• Let me know how I did on that one.
As for my score, I’m giving myself 70 percent right. Not bad for a guy from Guelph.

Happy and glorious

I recently went for a walk on the grounds of one of my favourite buildings, the Ontario Legislature, called the Pink Palace because of the colour of the sandstone. The architectural style, known as Richardson Romanesque, was also used in Toronto’s Old City Hall.
Suddenly, I saw a jarring sight. The statue of Queen Victoria, sitting in her usual place to the right of the main entrance, was surrounded by a square of stakes tied together with yellow tape. Were the powers-that-be thinking about dismantling and taking down Queen Victoria?
On the one hand, I understood their concern. Other statues of Queen Victoria in places as diverse as Montreal, Kitchener and Winnipeg have been toppled or defaced. Maybe they were being proactive and preserving the old girl. Yet Queen Victoria not only gave her name to the surroundings, but also served as the basis for the style of the statue of Queen Elizabeth unveiled in 2023 to the left of the front entrance.
They were supposed to be what’s known as a pendant where two things are alike. The newer Queen was carved in a similar size and height as the older. Both were seated on thrones with two steps and a plinth. That careful balance could soon be gone. Queen Victoria might have to show a stiff upper lip somewhere in storage.
If so, was this wrongheaded decision taken by the same committee that allows another statue nearby to continue standing? Known as the Northwest Rebellion Monument, it honours soldiers and volunteers sent to quell the 1885 uprising led by Métis leader Louis Riel. In recent years there has been much guilt and lamentation about how badly we treat our indigenous peoples so why does Queen’s Park still display this statue honouring the white-folks winning side?
Further, there’s the embarrassing matter of the Sir John A. Macdonald statue that’s been shuttered and hidden in a box for four years because of vandalism. I remember talking about this situation to someone who was part of an official group charged with deciding how to deal with this predicament. That was 2021.
By the time my walkabout took me back to the site of Queen Victoria, a four-man work crew was inside the yellow tape. I drew closer and shouted, “Is she coming down?” “No,” came the reply. “We’re just doing some repairs.” Then he paused and added, “The sun never sets on the British empire.”
Relieved, I bowed, and departed. My Queen still ruled.

 

After a fashion

While I’ve never been what you might call a fashionista, I’ve gone through a number of looks in my life. The closest I ever got to best-dressed in the Guelph neighbourhood where I grew up was when I was three. On Sundays I wore short pants, a jacket and a hat called a peanut scoop. In fact, my mother thought I looked so good she took me to a photographer. The result was a smiling face with elbows and hands artistically twisted as if I were tied up.
Clothing also brought me trouble as a lad. A bunch of us gathered at dusk one winter to throw snowballs at passing cars. When we broke a window, the driver jammed on the brakes, jumped out, and started chasing us. We scattered. I was the only one he caught because I was wearing a red coat, an easy target.
In Grade Eight, where you reigned over the rest of the school, I wore the cool guy’s uniform: unbuttoned shirt hanging out over a t-shirt and jeans with the pant bottoms turned up. Twice.
By high school I had wised up and figured I needed some guidance, so frequented Reuben’s menswear in downtown Guelph. A green corduroy jacket was the prize. Run by a father and son, the son would rent out his tuxedo. The one time I needed a tuxedo, his size was wrong for me. I ordered one from Toronto which came and was returned by bus package express.
My most favourite outfit, at least the one that brought about the best outcome, was a pair of coveralls complete with rubber boots that I wore one summer when I worked on the bottle line at the Royal Dairy. My marks in Grade 13 had not been good enough for the university I wanted to attend. As I clomped home in that attire one day, I decided I didn’t want to spend the rest of my life working in a job like that. I repeated Grade 13 and was accepted at Western on scholarship.
Despite my Scottish origin, I never wore a kilt. The closest I came to something as noticeable was in Ottawa when I worked for Robert Stanfield. I have a photo of a dozen members from Stanfield’s personal staff and party headquarters with everyone in sombre suits. I stand out in a black-and-white checked sports jacket that looks like the seat covers of a 1957 Chev.
These days my clothes are not so jarring. Wouldn’t want anyone jumping out of a car to chase after me because of what I’m wearing.

Lost souls

You can call me an old fogey or a bleeding heart, it matters not. I have two things on my frayed mind, two wrongs that must be righted. Both involve young people. The first involves something I keep hearing about: kids in school who aren’t paying attention in class. Maybe they’re fooling around with a friend or busy with that other close friend, their iPhone. Whichever it is, they’re not learning anything nor are the others sitting nearby who become distracted.
I know all about classroom disturbance first-hand because I had one teacher in high school who could not control pupils. At times, we would even go so far as to open the windows and throw things outside. Happily, in those days, the other teachers did not allow any such ongoing shenanigans. How? At the first sign of a badly behaved student at the beginning of the school year, the teacher would punish them for whatever they were doing, thereby setting an example of the interest and enthusiasm levels expected in order to permit learning.
Easy? No, but persistence will yield proper patterns. Equally tough rules could surely prevent iPhone use. A few phones confiscated with return to the owner only at the end of the day would be penalty enough to set higher non-usage standards. Otherwise, think of all the life learning lost.
The second issue that appears to be damaging young people is ads for betting that are pervasive during sports broadcasts. Scores and related game information are presented by something called “bet365” that looks to me like nothing more than a way to fritter away funds. Moreover, during most games there are live panels, often sponsored by other betting vehicles. Gambling used to be available only to the high-octane few, now everyone can sit at home while betting sites suck money from those who barely have funds enough for the needs of daily life.
According to reports presented in Parliament, 15 percent of young Canadians aged 18-35 have a gambling problem. Imagine all those wasted lives. Legislation setting national standards for online gambling websites has been awaiting approval for a while. Let’s commit to recapturing peace in the classroom and reducing seductive ads on the airwaves. Young people have enough pressures on them these days just trying to grow up and get on with life .

Getting Trumped

I’ve been sitting here asking myself just how the election of Donald Trump as president of the United States is good for Canada, and I’m having trouble finding a single reason. First off, Trump has promised to slap a 20 percent duty on all goods being imported into the U.S. Three-quarters of Canada’s trade is with the U.S. so that means higher prices and fewer sales of Canadian goods thereby resulting in a downturn in our economy that could lead to a recession here.
This downturn will be further amplified by a stronger U.S. dollar that will mean a weaker Canadian dollar which will cause prices in Canada to rise. As for Canadians wintering in Florida, Texas and Arizona, they probably already feel the weakness of the C$.
Another outcome that could flow from a Trump victory in the electoral college looks as if it will mean a both a Republican Senate and House of Representatives. Trump already has the Supreme Court on his side. The combination will mean he can bring in any law he wants. I somehow can’t imagine that any action he might have in mind will be a positive for Canada.
If the next Canadian election yields a Conservative government as the opinion polls currently predict, Trump will regard Pierre Poilievre as a pipsqueak whose name Trump will almost certainly mangle. Not for fun, just because he won’t care to try very hard to pronounce it right.
In fact, the election of Donald Trump, may, in the short term, be good for Prime Minister Justin Trudeau. The two leaders did work together during the first Trump administration on updating the North American Free Trade Agreement. And the Government of Canada has representation in Washington that will be able to make connections with new political staff in both the White House and Congress.
Trudeau will, at some point, be able to make an official visit and pay his respects to Trump. Such an encounter might not help much, but it won’t hurt. A trip by Trump to Ottawa is unimaginable. If he travels at all, he will want to swan around in London, Paris and Berlin.
Unlike President Ronald Reagan who famously said, “Mr. Gorbachev, tear down this wall,” Donald Trump is more likely to build a wall against Canada. Be prepared to feel cold and lonely.

Stayin’ alive

That was quite a spectacle this week when about 20 per cent of the 153-member Liberal caucus lunged at their leader and lost. Politically, Justin Trudeau, who is languishing in the national polls, had every reason to hang on. When a beleaguered Brian Mulroney stepped down in 1993, the resulting election was a debacle for his Progressive Conservative Party. Kim Campbell took over and managed to go from 154 seats to two seats in the next election.
There’s no reason to believe the Liberals would do any better in an election today. After all, Pierre Poilievre’s Conservatives are ahead in the polls by about twenty percentage points. With the NDP nowhere, and the Liberals likely to lose badly, the Conservatives could win a resounding majority with more than 200 seats.
Of course, another Prime Minister Trudeau resigned then returned to win re-election once before. That was in 1979-80 when Pierre left and then came back. Maybe Justin is looking to go one better and just stay in place.
But the scene of Justin, facing a revolt within his own party, then carrying on as prime minister brings a new level of folly to what needs to be a smooth running machine in Ottawa. And how silly is it for the government to pretend everything is normal by announcing permitted levels of immigration for the next three years just as if they expect to be in charge for that entire period?
As if there weren’t enough bodies bumping about at the top, there’s also Mark Carney, former governor of two different central banks, the recently appointed chair of an economic advisory task force for the Liberals and the author of a new book on his ideas for Canada’s future. Why isn’t Trudeau worried about him?
I believe the real reason Trudeau is hanging on as leader is because he has nowhere else to go except stay at home and take turns with his ex-wife minding the kids. After all, he hasn’t had too many job offers of late. And that’s despite all his international travel as he dreams of an appointment to a prime spot someplace like the United Nations, the Organization of American States or the World Trade Organization. Please, someone, take him off our hands. Otherwise, it’s too sad a sight to see.

Puzzling Pierre

Pierre Poilievre, leader of the Official Opposition, has a new TV ad campaign. At first, I didn’t recognize him, with the camera showing such a close-up of his face. His hair is usually the best guide to his identity; it looks different every time you see it. That’s because he always sleeps on it wrong and in the morning can’t remember how it goes, so he just leaves it as is. In this ad, his hair hardly shows, so tight is the camera on his face. Good editing.
And wait, is this the strident Axe the Tax, Build the Homes, Fix the Budget, Stop the Crime Guy guy? Isn’t that a child over whom he’s solemnly hovering while wearing a distracting wristwatch the size of the child’s head? Yes, it’s Cruz, Poilievre’s son, who just turned three in September. Let the little children come to me, and do not hinder them, for the Kingdom of Canada belongs to such as these. What a guy. So willing to share the limelight.
But what’s Poilievre doing? “Everything feels broken in Canada,” he says in the voiceover. He’s not just preaching the cause, he’s putting a jigsaw puzzle together right under his laddie’s nose. He’s showing Cruz where the pieces go and how to push down when you find the right spot. It’s must be hard, too, because there’s no obvious pattern to guide the way. A lot of the pieces he’s using seem to be the same light blue colour. Oh wait, now I see why he’s suddenly making such good progress. He’s working near the edge of the puzzle where each blue piece has a flat side to help with the matching. Poilievre makes it look easy because it is easy.
Pierre Poilievre’s message is that he can put a broken Canada back together again. Even someone as young as his son can understand that. No nuance here. And Poilievre is no longer shouting slogans, he’s offering solutions. The thirty-second ad concludes with the completed puzzle now appearing as a map of Canada with the slogan: “Bring it home.” That’s a great slogan except the usual first two words he uses – “Common Sense” – are missing, without which “Bring it Home” doesn’t resonate as well.
No matter. Everyone knows what happens next. All finished puzzles get displayed for a little while, then they’re dismantled and put back in the box. And everything feels broken all over again.

God and Mammon

I happened to be in Montreal on this day in 2000 when Pierre Trudeau’s funeral service was held. Notre-Dame Basilica was packed with mourners so I stood outside in Place d’Armes, one among the many hundreds listening to the service on loudspeakers and saying our sad farewells.
I was struck at the time by how the very architecture of the surroundings spoke to the always frosty relationship between the former prime minister and the business community. The soaring spires of the Basilica, erected in 1830, dominated one side of the square. On the opposite side stood the head office of Bank of Montreal, built in 1847, with its six sturdy Corinthian columns and stately dome.
For all the political success and personal charisma of Trudeau, the one connection that he never consummated was with business. He and the business community stood apart, just as did the bank and the Basilica, Mammon and God, resolute and unmoving, ever wary and watchful of each other.
Trudeau’s father had been in business but sold his company. As a result, Pierre Trudeau grew up with inherited wealth. There was little need for him to work. Instead, he travelled, taught, took on causes, and wrote. I heard many corporate executives hold his past against him, as if he could have changed his heritage even if he’d sought to, when they disparagingly said, “He never met a payroll.”
Nor did Trudeau have close friends or advisors from business. He embraced people in the arts, academia, labour, and politics but had little concern for commerce beyond what he’d learned at the London School of Economics from Harold Laski, the Marxist.
That studied indifference had serious policy implications. While there may have been no place for the state in the bedrooms of the nation, there certainly were intrusions in the boardrooms. I’m no historian, but the government of Pierre Trudeau must have been among the most interventionist in Canada’s annals.
Throughout Trudeau’s regime until he stepped down in 1984, business and Ottawa were at such loggerheads that executives would grouse and wonder what Ottawa could possibly be thinking. For their part, when business did come calling, civil servants and cabinet ministers alike would heave a sigh and say, “What do they want now?”
Some of the blame must fall on business leaders themselves because too few of them run for office. Of course, the promise of strong, solitary leadership was what drew Canadians to Pierre in the first place.
That was why in 1968 I went to see him campaigning in Toronto’s west end with my son, Mark, not yet three years old, perched on my shoulders amid the teeming outdoor crowd. Pierre’s son, Justin, is not half the man his father was, nor does he have any closer connection with business. But, love Pierre or hate him, at least we always knew where he stood when he was in our midst.

 

 

Shhh, quiet please

There are unsung heroes in our lives who are often forgotten. I just realized recently that high on such a list are librarians. Favorite teachers, friendly neighbors, family members, we honor. But librarians do not have the same prominent profile.
This revelation came to me when I recently visited the Yorkville branch of the Toronto Public Library. I had ordered a book online and a few days later received a message that it was ready for pickup. I found it myself on the reserved shelves, scanned my library card on the checkout machine, and – eureka – it was mine for three weeks. At no time did I talk to anyone.
While librarians have a reputation for being quiet in nature, surely it’s taking the trait too far for them to have no contact with their clients. Twasn’t always so. They were an integral part of my life as my father introduced me to books. At bedtime with his help I read out loud the entire series for children by Thornton W. Burgess. My father patiently helped with pronunciations and by the time I started five-year-old kindergarten I was reading at full blast, a head start on my education for which I am forever grateful.
To supply those books, I went to the library in Guelph, Ontario, one among the 2,500 libraries built by Andrew Carnegie with their commanding pillars and domes. For children there was a back-door entrance on the lower level. A trip there had two-fold pleasure. You got to make the twenty-minute walk from home without adult accompaniment and you did the return trip with as many books as you could carry.
A magic moment came when I’d read everything in the children’s library and graduated to the adult titles upstairs. The number of books was greater and the topics far more diverse. I might have been fifteen in Grade Ten when I heard about the James Gould Cozzens book By Love Possessed. When I tried to check it out, the librarian said, “I don’t think your mother would want you reading that,” and put it on the desk behind her. Contrast that with all that’s widely available today without parental knowledge, let alone consent.
While doing research in the Madison Building of the Library of Congress in 2015, there were about a dozen reference books covering my topic. It was hard to tell from the listings which would be most helpful, so a female staffer led me down to the stacks where I was able to retrieve three or four volumes for closer scrutiny. Maybe these books are online now, but reading from home won’t be nearly as much fun.
My past experience with librarians was so enjoyable, I took my own two pre-school children to the library in Ottawa every Saturday morning until they could go on their own. And, later in life, my two grandchildren in Toronto. So thank you Andrew Carnegie and all the ladies who’ve helped me over the years. And I never did read By Love Possessed.

The days of our lives

For the past couple of years, whenever I rode the subway, I always picked out the ten people sitting or standing closest to me and then counted how many of those ten were wearing masks. Nine months ago, it was six riders in masks. Three months ago it was one. Last week I was the only masked warrior. Using this methodology, Covid is over. At least in the minds of those people I was viewing at that moment in time and in that place.
Another way to measure better days have arrived showed up Monday when Amazon told its employees that they all had to come to work five days  a week. You’d think the company that sells so much online wouldn’t mind a few stay-at-homes, but apparently not. By comparison, Canada’s public service gets a break. This month Ottawa finally got around to mandating three days a week in the office, four for executives.
Canada’s largest employers have been following similar rules. At Royal Bank, which employs almost 100,000 people in Canada and the U.S., there was a lot of to-and-fro for a while. In August 2022, for example, CEO David McKay urged employees in an internal memo to “come together more often in person” but didn’t specify exactly how many days a week. A spokesperson later said McKay meant working two or three days a week by the end of September.
By March 2023, the bank said employees could still work from home one or two days. It may be just semantics, but to me that didn’t sound much different from the statement made in the previous year. These days, the bank is describing in online ads something it’s calling “hybrid work” without saying when or where a new employee will carry out that effort.
Despite all such attempts at returning positivity, there are other signs that tell us the downtown Toronto core is still a different place than in pre-Covid times. I’m underground in that part of the world about every six weeks and I can tell you by look and feel that even now there are a lot of people who are working from home. The hallways are still nowhere near as busy as before. The food court with multiple emporiums that straddles CIBC and TD banks used to be packed pre-pandemic. These days, I never have trouble finding a seat to eat my fish and chips from Buster’s Sea Cove. Whenever will we reach safe harbour?