I recently visited Ottawa to give a speech to the House of Commons’ Standing Committee on Finance. I’ve visited a handful of times before, mostly for advocacy meetings on behalf of a national nonprofit organization. Ottawa has always struck me as a peculiar kind of city. The downtown core feels strangely lifeless, especially compared to a bustling city like Toronto. Government buildings dominate the landscape, and outside of business hours the streets feel eerily empty.
This time felt a bit different. Ribfest was on. There were families, tourists, music, and the city felt animated in a way that I hadn’t seen before. Still, I couldn’t shake the feeling of unease. Within a few blocks of Parliament Hill, I passed civil servants in suits, security guards and tradespeople, and people sleeping rough or asking for change. The juxtapositions were difficult to ignore. Ottawa feels like a government town organized around the state itself: those who govern, those who serve, and those who remain largely invisible to both.
The parliamentary precinct felt even more heavily guarded than I remembered. Uniformed men stood at multiple entrances and checkpoints. They were muscular and tattooed. They looked a little like they had trained in private mercenary firms. They kept asking me where I was going. Why was I there?