A Heartbreaking Week

I can't recall the last time I wrote a political entry on this blog, if ever. I'm usually fixated on music, travel, and literary matters, but the events of the last few days have hit me hard and left me struggling to make sense of what is essentially senseless. On Wednesday in Ottawa, an unarmed reservist died while protecting the Tomb of the Unknown Soldier at the Cenotaph, a post only made necessary because vandals urinated on the hallowed monument a few years back. His killer then continued his rampage through the Centre Block of Parliament Hill, thankfully gunned down before he could claim more victims. Two days before in Montreal, a 'radicalized' young man from Québec had driven into two members of the military to cause them harm; one of the pair, Warrant Officer Patrice Vincent, died from his injuries.  In the last 48 hours, the country has been united in grief at the loss of Cpl. Nathan Cirillo: photos of him and of his dogs, and news that he had a young son caused an eruption of sadness across Canada. The bullet holes embedded in the corridor walls of the Hall of Honour were shocking, and video footage of our MPs hiding in their caucus chambers with desks and chairs stacked against the doors for protection only added to our impression that this had been a brutal, horrific day.

The Hall of Honour, Centre Block, on Parliament Hill in Ottawa.

When the lockdowns had ended and the ministerial speeches had been made, the question that seemed to linger in the media was this: had Canada been irrevocably changed? No.  What happened on Wednesday was devastating, but I don't believe the essence of what it means to be Canadian has been altered.

We are a strong country, and our resolve has not weakened. Even as members of the armed forces were advised to remove their uniforms to keep themselves safe from targeted attacks, others dismissed the idea as giving in to fear and terror, and still others volunteered to don uniforms so that we could all collectively give terrorists the metaphoric middle finger. Today, in a building riddled with bullet holes and shattered glass windows, our parliamentarians returned to work and the Cenotaph was reopened to the public, many of whom came in large numbers to pay their respects to Nathan Cirillo with flowers and other tributes. This is not a country that will allow itself to be frightened into submission. Under our mild exterior, we are fiercely defiant.

Carnations for a fallen soldier.


We are a modest, almost self-effacing nation; it is not our style to be alarmist and rash, and we tend to buckle down and do what's necessary without fanfare in times of duress. All these qualities were evident not only in the televised scenes we witnessed but also by the nature of the reporting of the major media outlets. The CBC (and news anchor Peter Mansbridge in particular) refused to speculate and share information they couldn't confirm, and so were repeatedly scooped by other networks, especially those in America. It was a tweet about the calm, measured response of our national radio broadcasters that alerted me that something was happening in our capital city, and by the time the night was over, I was in awe of the restraint and professionalism shown by our CBC journalists. You can find a media comparison between US and Canadian media here.




Finally and most importantly, we are a kind and compassionate people. When tragedy strikes, we tend to unite to give each other strength. There were hugs between the leaders of our three federal political parties today as Parliament reopened, and a standing ovation that lasted more than two minutes for Kevin Vickers, the House of Commons' Sergeant-at-Arms who bravely came out of his office on Wednesday and emptied his handgun clip into the killer to end the siege. Today, when Cpl. Cirillo's casket was taken from Ottawa to his hometown of Hamilton, mourners lined the road and the stretch of the TransCanada Highway known as the Highway of Heroes in the thousands to pay their respects for his sacrifice. Barbara Winters, a lawyer who found herself at the scene of his murder, epitomizes the gentle nature of so many ordinary Canadians: as Cpl. Cirillo lay dying and the emergency workers desperately tried to save him, she held his hand and softly repeated soothing words to him, telling him how proud and loved he was by his military brethren and his family. To hear her retell her experience in a television interview tonight, crying as she recalled her final moments with the young man, I was moved by her empathy and kindness, but not surprised in the least: unable to offer medical assistance, she contributed what she could, and gave him the gift of shared humanity, making sure that he was surrounded with love and appreciation in his final moments on Earth. It is at once a beautiful and heart-wrenching story.

Paying tribute to Cpl. Nathan Cirillo on the Highway of Heroes this afternoon.


What bears remembering is that this was not Canada's first experience with homegrown terrorism. I am just old enough to remember the FLQ (Front de Libération du Québec) crisis of October 1970, when the kidnapping of a British diplomat and  the murder of a provincial minister resulted in the imposition of martial law. Our country also saw many of its citizens murdered during the deliberate bombing of Air India Flight 182 off the coast of Ireland in 1985, and those responsible were found in our own backyard then as well. In both these cases, we responded with a stubborn refusal to recoil in fear and fought back by remaining true to our values.  I firmly believe that despite our current heartbreak and shock, we will once again respond with strength and love. In a few weeks, on  Remembrance Day, we will honour those who gave the ultimate sacrifice to serve and protect our country.  I suspect that the ceremonies will have an added significance because of the events of this week, and that there will be a heartfelt outpouring of support and admiration for the members of our military from a grateful nation.