OPINION: Maybe It’s Time to Stop Being Surprised

Over the last few weeks, I’ve been writing about the alarming mistreatment of municipal leaders across Canada. The stories are disheartening: one councillor felt the need to resign due to relentless personal attacks after missing events for medical reasons; another leader’s parents’ home address was publicly posted in retaliation over a local dispute. These incidents are unsettling, yet they may pale in comparison to what I recently discovered—something so disturbing it has pushed me beyond disbelief into outright outrage.

Tomorrow morning, I sit down with Reeve Amber Link of Wheatland County. During our conversation, she shared a story that I struggled to comprehend in its enormity. During her tenure, a resident seeking to confront her physically entered her home without her presence. Her child was home alone at the time. The resident, exploiting the “Find My Phone” app on the child’s device, asked for Reeve Link’s whereabouts.

This isn’t just crossing the line—it’s obliterating it. It’s a moment of reckoning that demands urgent attention. If this doesn’t spark a national conversation about the need to protect municipal leaders, I’m afraid nothing will.

What happened to Reeve Link is not only unconscionable—it’s dangerous. And if we fail to act, the consequences could mirror grim events in other parts of the world. In Austria, a mayor was killed following a dispute over hunting rights. In Ecuador, a young mayor was murdered alongside her adviser. These aren’t isolated incidents but harbingers of a global trend where the hostility toward politicians manifests in violence.

We’re not there yet in Canada, but the trajectory is troubling. What separates us from these tragedies is a thin veneer of restraint that is already starting to crack. When a resident feels emboldened to invade a politician’s home, confront their child, and weaponize technology for personal grievances, we are closer to the brink than we’d like to admit.

Let’s address the obvious: walking into someone’s home without an invitation is a crime, no matter who you are. Yet somehow, the fact that the target in this case is a politician seems to have twisted the narrative. There’s a growing and dangerous sentiment that public figures—especially at the local level—are fair game for unfiltered anger and harassment.

Imagine if the tables were turned. If someone barged into the home of that very resident, they’d call the police in an instant. The hypocrisy is staggering. This entitlement, this belief that elected officials owe us constant, unfettered access, is eroding the foundations of civil discourse.

We need to re-establish basic boundaries. Politicians are people first—parents, spouses, neighbours—who deserve the same respect and privacy as anyone else. Disagreeing with their decisions doesn’t grant you the right to violate their personal space or terrorize their families. It’s time to give our heads a collective shake and re-evaluate our moral compass.

How did we get here? Once upon a time, if you had an issue with your local councillor or mayor, you presented your case in a council chamber. It was a formal process, often requiring thoughtfulness and preparation. Today, the expectation has shifted to immediate, on-demand accountability. Social media platforms have exacerbated this issue, enabling residents to hurl insults and threats from behind the safety of a screen.

This shift from structured civic engagement to impulsive outrage has had devastating consequences. We’ve gone from demanding answers to demanding access—at all hours, in all places, and at any cost. This is not how democracy is supposed to work.

If you hate a decision your councillor made, there’s a straightforward solution: vote. Attend a public meeting. Write a letter. But the moment you take matters into your own hands—by showing up uninvited at someone’s home, posting private addresses online, or engaging in harassment—you cease to be a participant in democracy. Instead, you become a menace, dragging down the very system you claim to hold dear.

Canada prides itself on being a bastion of civility and respect. But as we approach 2025 and another round of municipal elections, I fear we’re entering uncharted territory—what I can only describe as “look-over-your-shoulder season.” This is no longer about politics as usual. It’s about survival for those courageous enough to step into leadership roles.

We need immediate, actionable change to protect municipal leaders. At the federal level, we have robust security measures in place for officials like the Prime Minister. If you showed up uninvited at 24 Sussex Drive or Stornoway, you’d be stopped long before reaching the front door. So why do we allow this behaviour toward mayors, reeves, and councillors?

Here’s the hard truth: local politicians are often the most vulnerable. They live and work in the same communities they serve, making them easy targets for those unwilling to separate personal grievances from public policy. This must change.

What can we do? First, municipalities need resources to implement safety measures. This includes better security for council chambers, guidelines for handling online threats, and protections for private residences.

Second, we need to change the narrative. Media outlets, community leaders, and everyday citizens must collectively condemn the toxic behaviours that have become normalized.

Finally, it’s time for some introspection. Are we, as a society, fostering the kind of environment where leaders feel supported and safe? Or are we feeding a culture of entitlement and hostility?

This is not just a political issue—it’s a societal one.

The next time you’re tempted to lash out at a local leader, ask yourself: is this how I would want to be treated? If the answer is no, then take a step back. Engage constructively. Show up to meetings. Cast your vote. But leave the harassment and intimidation behind.

Democracy is fragile, and it thrives on mutual respect. If we allow the mistreatment of our municipal leaders to continue unchecked, we risk losing more than just their service. We risk losing the very foundation of our civic institutions.

Let’s not wait for a tragedy to shock us into action. Let’s act now before it’s too late. Canada deserves better—and so do the people who serve it.