Category: Chairman’s Desk

For the last number of months, I have had to rely on both a wheelchair and the assistance of others to get around.

Fortunately, for me, those days are almost behind me.

When you are ill, you spend a lot of time thinking about what you’ve lost.

I’ve lost time chasing our grandkids around, celebrating life’s little victories, working on things I care about with people I admire.

But if you work at it, there is a place you can arrive where you can focus on what you gain.

I’m there.

Today, I understand more deeply what it means to lose mobility, and the barriers faced at every turn.

This isn’t the first time I’ve experienced these obstacles. As a child, I had accessibility challenges that were fortunately fully resolved. But I will never forget the feelings of frustration, inconvenience, and helplessness. Or being called a “cripple” by other children who didn’t know about the power of their words.

So, I am here, both with humility and determination, to try and make a small difference about something I know well — the power of that language.

A few weeks ago, I asked the concierge at a venue for directions.

“Oh!” she exclaimed, “you must be looking for the handicapped entrance.”

Now, let’s get something straight: she was perfectly accommodating and helpful. And I don’t, for a second, believe she was trying to offend me. But still, the word “handicapped” stung just as “cripple” had stung 55 years ago and the pain struck me with unexpected intensity. It made me feel small. And yet, it put into perspective something I had never truly understood — until now.

My life, my line of work, is about finding the right word. The notion of the wrong word was always just something that missed the bullseye, that which was close, but not quite there. And so, I focused instead on the power of the right word delivered at the right time.

Now, I see things differently.

Now, I realize that the wrong word at the wrong time carries much more power.

From my vantage point, which was, until very recently, not from the perspective of someone who relied on a wheelchair, accessibility issues only seemed to surface in our national conversation when a major company — usually an airline — had failed a customer with accessibility needs in a catastrophic way.

The naming and shaming that follow from these unfortunate incidents is, of course, an important part of making things right. But it’s not everything. The issue is far more pervasive, and each of us has a part to play in the broader solution.

Though it doesn’t always feel like it when we’re furiously typing on social media, the reality is that words are a personal responsibility. In this context, they play a crucial role in combating ableism and ensuring that every Canadian receives the respect, dignity, and equality that is their fundamental right.

Language, of course, evolves. Something that may have been progressive or acceptable 20 years ago might now be seen as outdated or offensive. This extends to other equity-seeking groups as well. For example, members of the LGBT+ community reclaimed “queer” from a word of derision to one of pride and celebration. It’s a complicated issue, and while there’s no one-size-fits-all solution, we can and should strive to do better.

Being mindful of our own language is a significant part of the solution. Words have been used to marginalize and belittle people for generations. Even when the intention isn’t harmful, certain words can conjure painful memories or reinforce damaging stereotypes.

Though it’s just one piece of the puzzle, inclusive language matters.

Many accessibility advocates have spoken about how their wheelchairs and mobility devices aren’t tools of convenience but rather extensions of their body. That they allow them to be independent. Gain access to space. Realize their potential.

Unlike so many for whom this is a lifelong reality, my reliance on a wheelchair has been temporary. But with determined effort, I won’t forget this experience and what it taught me. That words matter. The right ones and the wrong.

It’s the power we have to speak our truth and do our part to make this world a little more inclusive.

“A tough but strong decision.”

“Put our country first.”

“His decision to withdraw from the race was in the best interest of the country.”

“A historic example of a genuine public servant.”

These are the words of a world leader, a former House Speaker, a member of the Republican party and a former president. All of them united in their praise of U.S. President Joe Biden’s decision to end his re-election bid.

They could almost convince you that Biden was supremely selfless — guided only by love of country where other politicians are driven by ego and pride.

Almost.

To the intended audience, this heap of praise was a carefully co-ordinated rollout. But for Biden, it was a parachute. A lifeline. A safe landing ground. And the fact is, even despite the overwhelming pressure, he would not have done the right thing and stepped aside were it not offered to him.

Today, there is much confusion over why Prime Minister Justin Trudeau, facing similar pressure, has yet to step down.

But the reason is dead simple: he doesn’t have a parachute.

I wrote in this space, regarding Biden’s exit, that it was the job of political advisers to speak truth to power. To strip away the illusions of a miraculous comeback. The same thinking applies in this case. But to be effective, that truth must be packaged and presented in the right way.

If members of Trudeau’s inner circle are to convince him to step down, they don’t just need to create that parachute — they need to make him trust that when he pulls the rip cord, it will actually open.

To do this, there are three key steps his advisers must follow.

First, they need to find their Nancy Pelosi.

No new disastrous byelection defeat, no sobering poll or scathing editorial will crack through Trudeau’s stubborn resolve. There is no new logic that will magically do the job. Trudeau and his enablers are past this point.

What they need is a credible messenger to deliver that logic.

By many accounts, it was the former House Speaker Nancy Pelosi, who delivered the final push for Biden to exit. Apparently, as a result, they’re no longer on speaking terms.

A bitter pill requires someone with both the authority and credibility to administer it. Trudeau’s team must search high and low for their “Canadian Nancy Pelosi,” someone who can convince him to swallow that hard truth. Maybe someone with his best interests at heart — or at least, someone whose voice carries enough weight that Trudeau will finally listen.

Second, they must convince him that stepping down can be framed as an act of selflessness.

The reason Biden needed to step down was because of Biden. His performance, his polls, his reputation — all of it.

The same is true for Trudeau.

But advisers cannot build their case solely on cold, often humiliating, facts. They must try to separate the personal narrative from the political reality. Instead, they need to offer a storyline that paints Trudeau’s exit as a necessary sacrifice for the greater good — an honourable and strategic move to secure his legacy.

Third, his advisers can underline a concept that he will surely be familiar with: generational change. Just as he inherited a Liberal party on the brink of extinction and reinvigorated it with new energy, ideas, and imagery over a decade ago, the time has once again come for new voices.

Positioning this as the torch being passed, they can make the case that Liberalism will be best carried forward by renewal. And that willingness to embrace change is ironically the only way to protect the achievements that he carries most proudly.

The fundamental point about these steps is that they don’t need to be convincing to anyone other than one man.

Trudeau must believe this is the best path forward, not only for his legacy but for his party’s survival. In the end, it’s not about public opinion or pressure — it’s about the ability for his team to craft a narrative he can live with.

And if they can build an enticing narrative and sell it to Trudeau, he will do what he needs to — leave.

Kamala Harris’s family won’t be standing beside her on the debate stage Tuesday night.

Nor will they be grilled on policy or cross-examined on their legislative record.

And yet, they are — nonetheless — very much in the spotlight, their lives open to scrutiny, dissection and debate.

For the longest time, seemingly all political families aspiring to call 1600 Pennsylvania Avenue home needed to look one way: nuclear.

Harris’s family is not. Hers is non-traditional, multiracial and complicated.

In a word, normal.

And that’s why each of them is proving to be a major asset.

It’s not that her husband, Doug Emhoff, stole the show with a note-perfect speech at the Democratic National Convention last month.

Nor is it because her stepchildren Cole and Ella are proving to be a powerful force on social media, unlocking young voters for the Harris-Walz ticket.

Rather, it’s simply the fact that they exist as a genuine, relatable family unit that has laid the perfect strategic trap.

And Republicans have walked straight into it.

The more right-wing commentators and candidates decry Harris’s mixed-race family and criticize her husband’s previous marriage while simultaneously supporting a twice-divorced man with a history of extramarital affairs, launch “weird” diatribes about “childless cat ladies,” (not to mention bullying Tim Walz’s son), serve to reveal just how out of touch the MAGA movement is with the modern American family.

But more importantly, these misguided attacks open the door for Democrats to execute two key strategies.

First, to seize upon the rhetoric of “freedom.” Traditionally the mantle of the Republican party, the Harris-Walz ticket has successfully reclaimed the concept.

In his convention speech, after sharing the story of how he and his wife turned to fertility treatments to conceive their first child, Walz declared, “I’m letting you in on how we started a family because this is a big part about what this election is about. Freedom. When Republicans use the word freedom, they mean that the government should be free to invade your doctor’s office.”

Democrats, he countered, have a better message: “Mind your own damn business.” A sentiment Harris has effectively echoed in response to personal attacks.

Second, with all its diversity and complexity, Harris’s family allows her to connect with a broader range of Americans. Voters know Trump’s story inside and out. Harris, on the other hand, is still being introduced to much of the country and her family adds depth to that introduction.

The fact is voters don’t just want politicians to represent their interests — they want them to reflect their own lives and experiences.

It has long been an article of faith that reflection needed to look like “Leave It to Beaver.”

And then everything changed. Now it looks like something quite different — more diverse, modern, and in tune with the realities of today’s families.

Drawing back to what I argued in this space about Tim Walz last month, it’s this personal connection that transforms a candidate from a distant figurehead into someone authentic — who can credibly claim to understand the values and struggles of everyday people. When a candidate says they know what it’s like to make tough family medical decisions or to navigate the complexities of being a working stepmom raising a blended family, it allows them to connect with voters on a deeper, more personal level.

Crucially, it’s from this foundation of authenticity that a candidate can more effectively address wider issues — the pinch of rising grocery bills, the weight of health-care costs, and the stress of finding affordable child care.

Once this foundation is built strong, people won’t just show up at the polls to tick your name — they’ll stay with you.

Politics may be a team sport, but it’s also a family affair.

That family can either be a powerful asset or a potential liability. Kamala Harris’s family, non-traditional as it is, has proven to be the former — a reflection of modern America that resonates beyond politics. And, as a result, come January 2025, the new first family of the United States might look more reflective of the nation’s evolving identity than ever before.

Communication is measured in impact not minutes. But your words will always miss the mark if you don’t watch the clock.

Wednesday night at the Democratic National Convention in Chicago, former president Bill Clinton spoke for 27 minutes. He was allotted 12. He rambled and roamed.

There’s a moment in every drugstore novel or Hallmark movie where one character whispers tenderly to another, “Don’t change a thing. You’re perfect just the way you are.”

I don’t exactly picture Tim Walz, Kamala Harris’s newly anointed running mate, as a protagonist in this sort of sentimental tale. He’s more likely to be the kindly local shopkeeper or father of the fretful bride: steady, supportive, compassionate.