Paul Wells and I are having a little exchange in our respective substacks (mine a minnow, his a whale) about his short book on the Freedom Convoy, “An Emergency in Ottawa.”
Paul’s piece is entitled “How to write an odd little book.” You can find it here:
My critique, or comment, on the book was posted in this substack on April 12, “An Emergency in Ottawa.”
I wanted to write about this exchange for a number of reasons, and not primarily to rehearse my original arguments. I find the exchange remarkably civil. I think it is important for Canadians to continue to think about the meaning of the Freedom Convoy for Canadian politics (Paul and I clearly agree on this but also share a sense of disappointment). The discourse on this question should not be closed by the Rouleau Commission report, or by any single account (and I am sure there are more to come). I am a big fan of Paul’s substack, which is fun to read and features an amazing range of topics. I mention fun to read because Paul wonders whether when academics use the word “fun” they have a darker critique in mind. I really don’t! But I get the idea that academics and fun don’t always travel well together.
What really prompts me to write on this exchange, at least to begin, is a bit of introspection about the art of writing book reviews. The first thing I would say is that writing a book is hard; writing a review of a book is comparatively miles easier. What is difficult about book reviewing, quite apart from the challenge of limited space, is how to be fair. By being fair, I don’t mean being even-handed, or attempting to comment on all aspects of a books contents—neither are possible. A big part of being fair is trying to ensure that you write about what the book says, not about what it doesn't say—though the latter is a temptation in my experience that can be hard to resist. I am not sure my commentary on Paul’s book really met that test. Being fair is also being open-minded about arguments that either may not have occurred to you, or that you don’t find persuasive. Every reviewer should turn over in their mind the question of being fair, even while an effort must be made to use a review as a way of saying something important (or why bother).
While I explore my own conscience on fairness, I will leave it to others to decide whether my commentary on Paul’s book was fair. I encourage people to read Paul’s book. (I have also written many reviews where I honestly suggested—don’t read this book, life is too short).
When I raised the question of wondering what Paul Wells “actually made of it all,” I meant the question seriously, not just in the context of Paul’s book but for all interested Canadians. I don’t suggest the Convoy people were terrible—though some clearly were. I was not trying to make that kind of generalization. What I wonder about is what the Freedom Convoy meant for its participants in terms of their idea of a democracy, and what Canadian felt about the Freedom Convoy’s impact on concepts of democracy. I didn’t feel particularly enlightened about this in the Rouleau Commission report and continue to look for answers. My view is that this issue was not adequately addressed by Paul and that it was central to any argument about the merits of various proposals and efforts to “negotiate” (and I use quotation marks deliberately) with disparate convoy organizers at widely dispersed points of protest across the country. I find this the most unresolved aspect of our public discussions on the events of January and February 2022.
I was actually looking forward to, anticipating, some kind of reflection by Paul on the Prime Minister’s defence of the government’s ultimate position of non-negotiation with the Ottawa protesters. It seems central to his argument, yet never landed in his short book. He now calls the Prime Minister’s testimony about the protesters to the effect that “they didn’t come to Ottawa to be heard but to be obeyed,” “bullshit on stilts.” Well, that’s funny (and I am still grappling with the visual), but he drives down a different track on policing approaches to negotiations, which involve entirely different calculations than those that have to be entertained by a head of state (surely). I still wish Paul had addressed this head on, because it would have been fun to read, and because it would have opened up a clearer sense, which I found missing, regarding what he thought the Freedom Convoy was all about.
I am actually glad that Paul didn't dive down the rabbit hole of whether the use of the Emergencies Act was legally justified. Justice Rouleau came down on one side—that it was. There will be a Federal Court adjudication of the issue to come. There will be divided views, perhaps forever. I am fine with that so long as the facts are treated appropriately.
Lastly, two things. Please read Paul’s substack and his voyage into the sausage factory about the making of his book. Second, I hope his last paragraph was not aimed at me. I have tried all my life not to be stupid (and to avoid being angry, at least outside of hockey arenas).
I acknowledge him!
I read both your and Paul’s critiques, and your response to him and was favourably impressed by all three. I come away with the feeling that the whole event was too vast and complex--and emotional-- to be contained within the pages of a report or even multiple reports. You may recall that I suggested to you the idea of an anthology containing essays from different perspectives. But culture is the way humans process and make meaning of the events in their lives. My particular niche is speculative Canadian political novels. Is anyone else out there working on a creative response--a novel, a play, a film script? Hell, even a mini-series. It cries out for cultural treatment and processing.