Over the years, I have utilized many tropes to open my New Year’s message. It helps that Jan. 1 is my birthday, as well as a holy day in my faith - Mary, Mother of God. Those openings had merit, playing into the persona as well as readership long developed from this space. But this year, without tongue in cheek or embellishment, I have decided to address all with my assessment of where we are at, how we got here, and the way out in plain language.
It is not as if all our troubles began in 2020. But on the eve of that year, as my 30th was rung in at a restaurant downtown, no one could have guessed what was to come our way in the 36 months that have elapsed since. It is tempting to relitigate everything from COVID-19 and the 2020 U.S. election to the war in Ukraine and the Twitter files. But it is far simpler to state that as a result of all these events, our ability to trust one another or our institutions is at an all-time low.
How did we get here? In short, those charged with leading us or informing the public square failed to do so. And when it became obvious that mistakes had been made, instead of admitting fault or correcting course, our betters attempted to silence discussion and discredit dissidents by any means necessary, including violence. The Emperor’s new clothes played out repeatedly in real time, and still no one has come forth to offer a mea culpa to the common man.
Let me testify to the following: my wife and I both lost jobs for reasons now deemed void; mandates drove wedges into my extended family as well as my faith community that will never fully heal; during all this panic, my father’s still inexplicable “professional review” contributed to his stroke, and finally, management culture has grown disdainful of basic labor laws or training people properly.
That’s bad enough and I heard far worse from the truckers, nurses, teachers, operators, security guards, and tradesmen I bumped into over the last three years. But we must recall what makes any trauma infinitely worse: the inability to communicate about it, to speak openly about what happened with people we trust so we can begin to heal. Due to the ramifications of these tragedies casting shade on “official policy,” grief was required to be suffered in complete silence.
All of that pain and suffering reached a critical mass, erupting into the occupation of our nation’s capital. Ironically, the response deemed most appropriate by our leadership was more of the same - sneers and scorn so villainous as to be almost cartoonish. And those who ought to have cross-examined the narrative did nothing but justify the violence used on people who’d set up bouncy castles and rude signs. Thus, trust in who leads and informs us was irreparably lost.
Is there a way out from here? I have preached much of the same gospel over the years on this very spot and I see no reason to change the message, except to add an urgent reminder that “the hour is later than you think.” If the past 36 months were not enough to start ringing the alarm bells in your conscience, I cannot be certain of your good faith: something inexcusably bad happened to you or a person you know, and rationalizing it is not going to make things right.
The way out from here begins with one’s own mind, heart, and will, an invisible stance that manifests in the flesh with conviction. I will not comply, I will demand an explanation, if one will not be given and I am coerced, I will begin to speak as loudly as possible about what’s being done to me until others hear and can come to my aid; and if I hear them, I will come their aid. If we commit to such an order of life in work, school, leisure, and worship, we can overcome fear.
This has always been the method by which a free born people maintain liberty, both for themselves as well as their children. As always, I will end my New Year’s column in exhortation: of course there is hope, but only if we are willing to sacrifice complacency and act in solidarity.
Nathan Giede is a Prince George writer.
